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The Kitchen in Washington's Headquarters at 

Morristown, New Jersey. 

From a Photograph by Parker, Morristown. 

;{>*«^-*-» '- w- '^. 

Old Roads from the 
Heart of New York 

Journeys Today by 
Ways of Yesterday 

Within Thirty Miles Around the Battery 

Sarah Gomstock 

With 100 Illustrations by the Author and Others 


G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

Zbc *Rn(cftetbocfter prc06 


Copyright, 1915 



Ube Iftnfcfterbocfecr |>res0, 1ftcw Igorfe 

L. S. C. 


PICTURE a searchlight installed at the Bat- 
tery, revolving, swinging its rays forth 
from the heart of New York, and flinging them 
upon historic spots for thirty miles around. 
Like the circuit of rays from that central light, 
so ferries and roads, old and new, darted and 
still dart in all directions. 

These chapters have attempted to follow ap- 
proximately some of the most familiar of the 
old ferries and roads, although the new courses, 
for the most part, but roughly correspond to 
the ways of yesterday. Changes develop in 
the cotirse of every road. No attempt has been 
made to trace the old routes of land- and water- 
travel precisely. But we may follow their 
general direction, and arrive at the same villages 
and other historic spots at which they arrived. 

To the New York Times I am indebted for 
permission to reprint those chapters which first 
appeared in that publication, having since been 
expanded and rearranged. Chapters I, XXII, 
and XXIII have never before b en published. 

If I could name all the persons to whom I am 

vi THe SearcHli^Ht 

indebted for assistance in collecting material 
and locating landmarks, my thanks would de- 
scribe a circle of thirty miles around New 
York. Among them I wish to acknowledge 
especial indebtedness to the Rev. Andrew M. 
Sherman of Morristown; Col. J. C. L. Hamilton 
of Elmsford; Dr. Frank Bergen Kelley of the 
City History Club of New York; librarians of the 
New York City Public Library, Departments of 
Genealogy, American History, and Maps, and 
of the Jackson Square Branch; of the New York 
Society Library and the New York Historical 
Society; of the New Jersey Historical Society 
(in Newark) and of the Long Island Historical 
Society (in Brooklyn); curators of the Staten 
Island Association of Arts and Sciences; and 
librarians in the public libraries of Jamaica, 
Flushing, Elizabeth, Plainfield, Bound Brook, 
Morristown, Passaic, Paterson, Tarrytown, 
White Plains, and New Rochelle. 

The many reference works used are named in 
the Bibliography. For much of the study of 
Long Island, Thompson's history has ftirnished 
a basis, as has Clute's for that of Staten Island 
and Bolton's for that of Westchester County. 
Lossing's Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution 
has supplied countless minor details which other 
voltmies omit. The story of Andre's capture, 
traced on both sides of the Hudson River, 
follows in the main the account given by Fiske 

THe SearcKli^Kt vii 

in his American Revolution.^ Among the books 
which have been of especial assistance in detailed 
study where history is either meager or confused, 
are: The Greatest Street in the World, The Old 
Boston Post Road, and The Story of the Bronx, 
by Stephen Jenkins; Historical Guide to the 
City of New York, compiled by Frank Bergen 
Kelley; Historic Houses of New Jersey, by W. 
Jay Mills; New York: Old and New, by Rufus 
Rockwell Wilson; Half -Moon Papers, Second 
Series; Israel Putnam, by William Farrand 
Livingston; Memorial History of Staten Island, 
by Ira K. Morris; also, The Country Thirty 
Miles around the City of New York, a map by 
I. H. Eddy, 1828, in the New York City 
Public Library. 

S, C. 

New York, April, 191 5. 

'The extracts on pages 75, 76, and 245-248 are reprinted by 
permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 




I. — How THE New Yorker of Yesterday 

Set Forth on his Journey . 3 


II. — The Jamaica and Jericho Turnpike. 19 

III. — To Astoria and Flushing . . 35 

IV. — Dutch Homesteads on the Way to 

Flatlands 48 

V. — Over the Battleground of Long 
Island in the Footsteps of 
Putnam 62 


VI. — The Highlands and Sandy Hook . 79 

VII. — On Staten Island to Oude Dorp . 96 

VIII.— To Old Richmond . . . .110 

IX. — From Tottenville to Perth Amboy 124 

X Contents 



X. — Newark, a Turnpike Center . .139 

XI. — Elizabeth, and the King's Highway 155 

XII. — With the Stagecoach to Plainfield, 

AND ON TO Bound Brook . .174 

XIII. — By the Old Turnpike to Morristown 189 

XIV. — A Voyage up the Passaic . . 206 

XV. — ^Along the Palisades . . . 220 


XVI. — In Andre's Footsteps to Tappan . 237 

XVII. — Beside the Hudson to Sleepy Hollow 252 

XVIII. — The Sawmill River Road . . . 273 

XIX. — With the Post to White Plains . 290 

XX. — Along the Old Boston Post Road . 305 

XXI. — To Throg's Neck and City Island . 323 


XXII. — Old Manhattan .... 343 

XXIII. — The Great Artery — Broadway . 358 


XXIV. — Easy Routes for the Traveler of 

To-day 375 

Contents xi 



I . — To Jericho. (Jamaica, Hollis, Hempstead, 

Woodbury) 375 

2. — To Astoria and Flushing. (East River 

AND Hallett's Point) . . . 376 

3. — To Flatlands. (Through Flatbush) . 376 

4. — Over the Battleground of Long Island. 

(Brooklyn) 376 


5. — The Highlands. (Chapel Hill, Navesink, 

Water Witch) 377 


6. — To OuDE Dorp. (Quarantine, Ft. Wads- 
worth, Arrochar) .... 377 

7. — To Richmond. (Through New Dorp) . 378 

8. — Tottenville and Perth Amboy . 378 


9. — Newark 378 

10. — Elizabeth and Beyond. (Rahway, Wood- 
bridge, New Brunswick) . . . 379 

II. — Plainfield and Bound Brook . . 379 

xii Contents 


12. — To Springfield and Morristown . . 380 

13. — To Passaic and Paterson (Returning by 

Weehawken) . . . . .380 

14. — To Alpine, Fort Lee, and Hackensack. 380 

15. — Sneden's Landing and Tappan . .381 


16. — Along the Hudson to Sleepy Hollow. 
(Hastings, Dobbs Ferry, Irvington, 

AND TaRRYTOWN) . . . . 381 

17. — On the Sawmill River Road. (Yonkers, 

Ardsley, Elmsford) . . . 382 

18. — To White Plains by Way of Scarsdale. 

(TUCKAHOE, HaRTSDALE) . . . 382 

19. — The Boston Post Road. (Eastchester, 
New Rochelle, Mamaroneck, Rye, 
Greenwich, Cos Cob . . . 383 


20. — Throg*s Neck and City Island. (Also 

Hunt's Pt. and Clason Pt. . . 383 

Contents xiii 


21. — Old Manhattan 384 

22. — Broadway ...... 384 

Bibliography 385 

Index ........ 393 



The Kitchen in the Morris House, Morris- 
town, N. J. . . . . Frontispiece 

Cannon at Hollis, near the Spot where Wood- 
hull was Captured ..... 22 

A Tablet on the School Building at Hollis, 
Placed by Sons of the American Revolution 
in Honor OF WooDHULL .... 22 

King's Park, Jamaica, once the Grounds of 
RuFusKiNG 23 

St. George's Church, Hempstead, One of the 
Earliest Parishes on Long Island . . 30 

The Mansion once Belonging to Rufus King, 
Jamaica 30 

The Tavern at Hollis, in which Woodhull was 
Captured . . . . . . .31 

St. George's Church — the New Building — 
Flushing 38 

The Bowlder Marking the Spot where George 
Fox Preached 38 

A Fine Type of Well-Preserved Old Building, 
ONCE THE Flushing Institute ... 39 

xvi Ill\istrations 


The Friends' Meeting-House in Flushing, 
Erected IN 1694 ..... 42 

The Old Home of the Prince Family, Flushing, 
THE Grounds were once Included in the 
LiNN^AN Botanical Gardens, the First 
Nursery in America ..... 42 

The Great Horse-Chestnut Tree at the Head 
OF Fox Lane, beside the Bowne House, 
Flushing 43 

St. George's Church — the Old Building — 
Flushing, in which the Manuscript Sermons 
OF THE Rev. Thos. Poyer are Preserved. . 46 

A Corner of the Bowne House, Flushing . 46 

The Bergen Homestead .... 47 

The Old Lefferts Homestead in Flatbush . 47 

Church of the Early Dutch Settlers in Flat- 
bush 52 

Old Well, Philipse Manor .... 52 

Erasmus Hall High School To-day, Built 
about the Old Erasmus Hall Academy. The 
Original School Founded in 1787. . . 53 

The Old Dutch Church of Flatlands, Or- 
ganized 261 Years Ago .... 58 

The Maryland Monument on Lookout Hill, 
Marking the Site of the Battle of Long 
Island ....... 58 

Where the Prospect Park Swan Boat now 
Plies, the Din of Battle once was Heard . 59 

Ill\istrations xvii 

The Battle Pass Tablet in Prospect Park, 
Marking the Outer Line of Defense in i 776 59 

The Monument to Civil War Heroes in Green- 
wood Cemetery ...... 66 

The Civil War Soldiers* and Sailors' Arch at 
the Entrance to Prospect Park ... 66 

The View from Lookout Hill, where Mary- 
land's Four Hundred Made their Great 
Defense IN 1776 (Prospect Park) . . . 67 

Miss Matilda Hall's House, where the Se- 
cessionist Hung his Flag out until he was 
Raided, (Chapel Hill) .... 74 

Martyrs' Monument, Fort Greene Park . 75 

The Place of Worship from which Chapel 
Hill Took ITS Name 75 

Cornelius Mount's Inn, where the Duel 
Challenge was Spoken in Verse ... 84 

The Village Smithy Containing the Ancient 
Anvil, AT Chapel Hill .... 85 

The Old Leonard House at Leonardo . . 85 

Chapel Hill Lighthouse, Government Range 
Light, 224 Feet above the Sea, Commanding 
One of the most Remarkable Views of New 
York Harbor ...... 94 

From a photograph by George Wright. 

The Old Vanderbilt House, where the Commo- 
dore Spent his Boyhood .... 94 

xviii lUxxstratioxis 


The Village Blacksmith at Chapel Hill . 95 

Photograph by A. R. Coleman. 

The Public Museum of St. George, where many 
Valuable Historic Relics are Shown . . 104 

The Old Planters' Hotel, the Resort of 
Wealthy Southerners almost a Century 
Ago, ON Bay Street, Staten Island . . 104 

The Only Building Left of the Ancient 
Quarantine. Others Burned by Citizens in 
1858. Near St. George Ferry . . . 105 

The Garibaldi House, Staten Island . .105 

The Cortelyou Homestead at New Dorp . 114 

The Moravian Church at New Dorp . .114 

The Old Richmond Court-House . . .115 

The Old Perrine Homestead, Dongan Hills . 115 

St. Andrew's Church ..... 122 

Photograph by F. M. Simonson. 

Cockloft Hall of ''Salmagundi Papers'' . 122 

A Bridge in the Japanese Garden of C. T. 
Brown, Emerson Hill, Staten Island . .123 

The Old Fountain House at New Dorp, a 
Relic of the Waldensian Settlement. 
The Stone Lower Part is the Original 
Building. House Dates back to 1668 . .123 

*'The Old Stone House in Willock's Lane/* 
Used by the British during the Revolution. 
Built 1734, (Perth Amboy) . . . 130 

Illiastrations xix 


BiLLOPP House, Tottenville, Built 1668. 
Where Howe, Clinton, Cornwallis, and 
BuRGOYNE WERE Entertained . . . 130 

** Dungeon" Approach, Billopp House, Totten- 
ville. Through this Cellar Door Lies the 
Entrance to the Famous Dungeon where 
Patriots are Supposed to have been Im- 

Led TO THE River ...... 131 

The ** Parker Castle" in Perth Amboy . . 131 

The Old First Presbyterian Church in New- 
ark ........ 144 

Boxwood Hall, Elizabeth. Once the Home 
OF Elias Boudinot ..... 144 

The Schoolhouse at the Old Lyons Farms, 
where Washington Spoke to the Children . 145 

The Lyons Farmhouse, Said to be the Oldest 
House IN New Jersey . . . . .145 

The Old Fort, Elizabeth, Built in 1734 . .158 

The Old Chateau in Elizabeth, the Home of 
Cavalier JouET . . . . . .158 

The First Presbyterian Church, Elizabeth, 
Built in 1784. The Original Building was 
Burnt BY THE British ..... 159 

House in Elizabeth, where General Winfield 
Scott Lived . . . . . .159 

The Hetfield House, the Oldest House in 
Elizabeth, Built ABOUT 1682 . . .174 

XX Ill\istrations 


House at South Bound Brook, where Baron 
Steuben had Quarters and Entertained 
Washington . . . . . -174 

Mounted Cannon on Washington's Camp 
Ground ABOVE Bound Brook . . .175 

The Battle Monument at Bound Brook, on the 
Site of the Battle of i 777 . . . .175 

The Monument and Tablet on Washington's 
Rock, Plainfield 186 

Photograph by Collier. 

The Quaker Church in Plainfield, Built in 
1788 186 

The Washington Headquarters, Morristown 187 

The Wick House on the Old Jockey Hollow 
Road, Morristown 187 

By permission of Rev. Andrew M. Sherman. 

The Springfield Church, Made Famous by 
THE * ' Fighting Parson " . . . . 1 98 

The Old Arnold Tavern where ''Arnold's 
Light-Horse Troop ' ' Gathered, Morristown i 98 

The Old Dutch Church of Passaic . 199 

The Van Wagoner Homestead, Passaic . 199 

The Passaic River, near the Site of the Old 
Acquackanonck Bridge . . . .214 

The Monument to Alexander Hamilton at 
Weehawken 214 

Illustrations xxi 


The Old House at Huyler's Landing, Built 
BEFORE THE Revolution . . . .215 

The Cornwallis Headquarters at Alpine . 215 

The Monument at Fort Lee, to Soldiers of 
the Revolution ...... 228 

The *' Half-Moon'' Anchored at Historic 
''Closter Landing'* 228 

The Old Dutch Church of Hackensack, whose 
Records Date BACK TO 1686 .... 229 

Mansion House at Hackensack, where Wash- 
ington Stayed during his Retreat . . 229 

The Home of Molly Sneden, the Ferry Mis- 
tress, AT Sneden' s Landing . . . 242 

'*The Big House," at Palisades, N. Y., where 
Washington Sat at Table. The Table is 
NOW TO be Seen there 242 

The *"76 Stone House," where Andre was 
Imprisoned AT Tappan 243 

The Present Ferryboat, a Lineal Descendant 
OF Jeremiah Dobb's Dugout .... 243 

The Monument near the Livingston Mansion, 
Recording the History of the Spot . . 254 

The Door of the Old Church at Sleepy Hollow 254 

The Glen at Dobbs Ferry, where the Indians 
are Supposed TO have Camped . . . 255 

The Old Bell Tower AT Sunnyside . . . 255 

xxii Illustrations 


The Signal for the Ferryman at Dobbs Perry . 266 

The Livingston Mansion, Dobbs Ferry . . 266 

The Old Mill at Philipse Manor (now De- 
molished) ....... 267 

The Bridge at Sleepy Hollow . . . 267 

Old Headstones in Churchyard, and a Corner 
OF THE Sleepy Hollow Church . . . 278 

The Old Dutch Church, Elmsford, Sister to 
THE Sleepy Hollow Church .... 278 

The Old Door of St. John's Church, Yonkers . 279 

The Featherstone House, Elmsford, where 
Washington and Rochambeau Conferred, 


Currant Bushes ...... 279 

The Philipse Manor at Yonkers . . . 288 

Washington's Headquarters during the Battle 
OF White Plains. At North White Plains . 288 

A Mortar Used at the Battle of White Plains 289 

The Old Inn at Scarsdale, where Drovers 
Used to Stop in Revolutionary Days. This 
was also the Stopping-Place for the Old 
Mail Coach 289 

The Monument Marking the Site of the Old 


OF New York, White Plains . . . 296 

Illustrations xxiii 


Old St. Paul's Church, at Eastchester, Used 
AS A Military Hospital during the Revolu- 
tion 296 

The Disbrow Chimney at Mamaroneck, where 
Cooper's *' Spy '' is Said to have Hidden . 297 

The Monument to Early Huguenots, at their 
Landing Place, Bonnefoi Point, New Ro- 

The Municipal Building at Rye, once Havi- 
land's Tavern, on the Old Post Road . . 308 

The Fay House at Eastchester, formerly a 
Tavern, where a British Deserter was Hung 
TO A Sign-Post 308 

The Holly House, Cos Cob .... 309 

The Tom Paine Monument at New Rochelle . 320 

The Old Huguenot House at New Rochelle . 320 

The Lighthouse AT Fort Schuyler . . . 321 

The Tom Paine House, New Rochelle . . 328 

The Arch Leading through the old Fortifica- 
tions at Fort Schuyler .... 328 

The Hulk of the "Macedonia" . . . 329 

The Old Marshall Residence . . . 329 

One of the Old Guns at Fort Schuyler . . 338 

The Old Fortifications, Fort Schuyler . . 338 

xxiv Illustrations 


The Old Shot Tower, Built in 1821 to Replace 
One of Revolutionary Days . . . 339 

An Old Block House, a Relic of the War 
OF 1 8 12, IN Mornings IDE Park . . . 339 

The Jumel Mansion 348 

The Gracie Mansion, at Old Horn's Hook . 349 

Looking down the *' Hollow Way" of the 
Revolution, *' Widow Davids's Meadow'* of 
Dutch Days, now Manhattan St. , . . 349 

** Smith's Folly," Built for a Bridal Gift to 
THE Daughter of President Adams . . 360 

The Old Home of Nathaniel Prime, the Mer- 
chant Prince of Early Days . . .360 

The Van Cortlandt Mansion . . . .361 

Map . . . . . . .AT End 

Old Roads from the 
Heart of New York 




WHEN the early New Yorker, with a hogs- 
head of molasses for fellow-passenger, 
entrusted himself to the mercies of a dugout 
canoe and let the old ferryman transport him 
all the way to Flushing, he was proving a uni- 
versal law; namely, that humanity won*t stay 
at home. The dugout was both uncomfortable 
and dangerous, and the hogshead of molasses 
could hardly be called companionable; never- 
theless the Manhattanite accepted the conditions 
of travel, for travel he would 

Smug in the thought of our Twentieth Century 
tubes and ferries, otir trolleys and subways and 
express trains and automobiles, we hardly real- 
ize how much traveling he did. Manhattan 
then, as now, was the hub from which darted 
forth innimierable paths, roads, and waterways. 

The small size and unique situation of the 
island have always led to exploration beyond. 
Water on all sides — ^and just beyond the water. 

4 Introdijictory 

piqtiing the curiosity at every turn, lies enticing 
land. The first imptilse was to investigate. 

The Indian trail has been, throughout our 
country, the beginning of the road. In his turn 
the Indian often followed the trail of the beast. 
Such beginnings are indiscernible for the most 
part, in the dusk of history; but we still trace 
many an old path that once knew the tread of 
moccasined feet. 

The Indian dweller upon Manhattan Island 
set forth upon his joturney in his simple canoe, 
dug out from a tree-trunk. Arrived upon the 
farther shore, he followed a winding path through 
the wilderness. It yielded to the law of least 
resistance, and added many miles unto itself 
by its zigzag course. The white people gradu- 
ally straightened these paths, so that the present 
highways form a finished product of which the 
trail was a rough sketch. 

At first the trails around Manhattan were 
widened to little more than bridle paths, as the 
New Yorker rarely traveled except on horseback. 
As travel increased, both for pleasure and com- 
merce, the paths were widened to wagon roads. 
These, for many years, adhered to the original 
windings, and showed a submissive habit of 
turning out to permit a tree to stay where it 
wished, and of ducking here and there into a 
gully which was only occasionally filled in with 
a pile of branches upon which loose earth was 

A Ferry to BroxincKsland 5 

thrown. These conditions hardly made for com- 
fortable traveling; nevertheless the New Yorker 
traveled, even though his vehicle had to be 
pulled out as often as it became stuck in the mud. 

At last, in the early eighteen-hundreds, en- 
tered the era of the turnpike, and one such road 
followed fast upon another, until New York 
was the center of many roads, leading off from 
the ferry landings in all directions, themselves 
intersected by other roads, a mesh of highways 
all about Manhattan Island. Stages as well as 
private vehicles carried the traveler in many 
directions; bridges were built; public ferries 
grew in number and capacity; the merry 
journeying went on apace. 

Toward the north, means of exit developed 
as early as the middle of the Seventeenth Cen- 
tury. In The Story of the Bronx Stephen Jen- 
kins states that in 1658 the director-general of 
New Netherland ''authorized the maintenance 
of a ferry with a suitable scow between Harlem 
and Brouncksland. Nothing was done, how- 
ever, until 1666, when Governor NicoUs granted 
a charter to the Harlemites, in which, among 
other things, he allowed them 'a ferry to and 
from the main which may redound to their par- 
ticular benefit,' and to construct one or more 
suitable boats or scows for the transportation of 
men, horses and cattle at reasonable charges. 
In January of the following year (1667) the au- 

6 Introdvictory 

thorities of Harlem, in carrying out the provi- 
sions of the charter, determined to estabUsh a 
good ferry, and that a suitable ordinary, or 
tavern, should be built for the accommodation 
of those who used the ferry. Mayor Delaval 
promised to furnish the nails for the making of 
a scow, provided their value should be paid to 
him by the ferryman." 

And so a ferry, under the charge of Johannes 
Verveelen, was established. Previous to this 
the communication had been by means of canoes 
and dugouts. The new ferry was a little west 
of First Avenue as we know it, at East 123d 
Street. Here Verveelen entered into competi- 
tion with Nature, who had already made what 
was called the *' wading place'* — a natural ford 
through Spuyten Duyvil Creek. Those of an 
economical turn of mind still preferred the free 
ford, and Verveelen was much annoyed at the 
loss of their fees. 

The earliest ferries in the vicinity of New 
York were maintained in a large dugout called 
a periauger. These plied the Hudson River as 
well as the waters toward the northeast. Next 
came the large scow, that established at the 
Harlem ferry being an example, capable of 
transporting wagons and animals. 

As travel increased, it was deemed expedient 
to build a bridge to assist communication with 
the mainland toward the north. In January, 

A. Bridge at BroadiTirax 7 

1693, Frederick Philipse offered to build one at 
his own expense, since the city authorities had 
been deterred by the cost. It was built the 
same year, about where the Broadway bridge of 
to-day crosses, and was constructed with a draw 
that boats might pass. Other bridges followed 
as the years advanced, one at last replacing the 
old ferry at the eastern end of the river. Roads 
grew, leading from these bridges into Westches- 
ter County, from the Albany Post Road along 
the Hudson, to the Boston Post Road near the 
Sound. Indian trails were broadened and new 
ways were laid out. The Westchester Path was 
famous among them. 

In the other directions the history of exit from 
Manhattan is much the same story. First the 
dugout or canoe, followed by a larger ferryboat; 
at its landing, the trail, developing into the road. 
Across the East and North rivers, the ferry- 
boat still plies in paths not far from the original. 
The first public ferry to Long Island, established 
about the middle of the Seventeenth Century, 
was a fiatboat simimoned by the blowing of a 
horn. The crossing of the rivers was diffi- 
cult, even dangerous, before the day of the 
large ferryboat. In his History of New York 
City William M. Stone quotes a letter from 
Isaac Rushmore of Long Island, an early-day 

''When a boy of fifteen I first visited New 

8 Introductory 

York City, in 1801. Then we crossed from 
Brooklyn in small sail-boats — ^two cents ferriage. 
With ice in the river, it was sometimes extremely 
perilous. To get a gig across, of course, the 
wheels must be taken off, and the horse jimiped/' 

The "horse-boats" were an innovation and 
solved many problems of crossing the East and 
North rivers, cltmisy as they appear to us to- 
day. The paddle-wheels which propelled them 
were turned by fotu* horses, which walked around 
a shaft on board the boat. The fare charged 
was fotir cents. Up to 181 2, when Fulton 
revolutionized the water travel, these were 
"modern" ferryboats. It was in this year that 
Fulton bridged the North River with his twin 
steamboats, and soon after the East River was 
crossed in the same manner. These first boats 
are described by Cadwallader D. Colden as 
being two complete hulls united by a deck or 
bridge, sharp at both ends and so moving either 
backward or forward with equal ease, and able 
to retrace their course without turning. The 
floating or movable dock was instituted, and the 
method by which boats were brought to them 
without shock. As James Grant Wilson com- 
ments, except in the increased power of its engine 
the modern ferryboat shows little improvement. 

Early in the Eighteenth Century developed the 
system of "working the roads." According to 
Jenkins, "The Act of October 30, 1708, estab- 

THe TvirnpiKe Era 9 

lishes not more than six days' work on the roads 
by the inhabitants each year, or a payment of 
three shillings for each day neglected." The 
Provincial Assembly of New York was endeavor- 
ing to bind the parts of the Province together 
and, in turn, bind it close to the other colonies. 

But still the roads remained difficult, and it 
is no wonder that the turnpike era caused a new 
impetus such as travel had never known here- 
abouts, trhe first turnpike road in the United 
States was laid out in Virginia in 1785. The 
Lancaster Turnpike followed, and by the early 
years of the Nineteenth Century, these toll-gate 
roads were appearing eYevywhere) Previously, 
the New Yorker had much preferred travel by 
water, but now the roads offered comfort for both 
man and beast. It was to the interest of the 
private companies who collected the toll to keep 
them in good condition; no longer did the wagon 
wait, stuck in a mud-hole, until the mud should 
dry up and free it. 

Everywhere this road system at first met with 
opposition. Americans claimed that the toll 
system was un-American. Farmers protested 
against paying for what had been free to them. 
Congressman Beeson is said to have made a 
speech in which he defended the National Pike, 
ordered laid out in 1806 by Congress, saying 
that the smithies of the country would ring 
with the horseshoes it would wear out, and no 

10 Introdvictory 

man need be out of employment, by virtue of 
the increased demand for horseshoe nails. It 
did not take the citizens of New York and the 
surrounding country long to discover that the 
well-kept road with its toll was economy in 
the end. 

As has been stated, the first road-travel which 
was not afoot was ahorseback. A pack slung 
upon his shoulder carried the first pedestrian's 
merchandise or luggage; the pack-horse soon 
entered, followed by the cart for heavy freight. 
The Indian trail broadened to make room for 
its Itimbering and clumsy figure. Post-riders 
carried the mails. They served as guide to 
other travelers, who followed them on horseback 
through devious ways. The famous journal 
of Madame Sarah Knight describes a trip of this 
sort, between Boston and New York. She says: 

"About four in the morning we set out . . . 
with a french Doctor in our company. Hee and 
y® Post put on very furiously, so that I could 
not keep up with them, only as now and then 
they'd stop till they see mee." 

Madame Knight's trip indicated great "ad- 
vancement" on her part. Travelers of the 
gentler sex usually rode seated on a cushion be- 
hind the gentleman. Chairs, gigs, and chaises, 
light vehicles of two wheels, were used on the 
crude roads in colonial days. 

In the Eighteenth Century the stagecoach 

Early Type of Sta^e Wa^on ii 

developed, and it niled travel at a later period. 
In The Old Boston Post Road, Jenkins thus 
describes the early type: 

''The stage wagons were boxes mounted on 
springs, usually containing four seats, which 
accommodated eleven passengers and the driver. 
Protection from the weather was furnished by 
a canvas or leather-covered top with side cur- 
tains which were let down in inclement and cold 
weather. There were no backs to the seats, 
and the rear seat of all was the one usually pre- 
ferred on account of the passengers being able 
to lean against the back of the wagon. If there 
were women passengers, they were usually al- 
lowed to occupy this seat. There were no side 
entrances to the vehicle, so that any one getting 
in late had to climb over the passengers who had 
pre-empted the front seats. Fourteen pounds 
of baggage were all that were allowed to the 
passenger to be carried free; all over that had to 
pay the same price per mile as a traveller. The 
baggage was placed under the seats, and was 
generally left unguarded when the stage stopped 
at taverns for meals or for change of horses. 
(The roads were poor, the stage uncomfortable, 
and the whole journey was tiring and distressing; 
but we must remember that the people of those 
days were accustomed to inconveniences that 
we would not submit to now, though we have 
our own troubles in the way of strap-hanging 

12 Introductory 

in street cars and crowded conditions in subway 
and elevated trains^?' 

Private vehicles of many new types appeared 
upon the better roads of the early Nineteenth 
Century, in the years of happy reaction after 
the close of the Revolution. And so, with the 
great improvement in ferries and other boats, in 
roads and in vehicles; with the rapid growth and 
firm prosperity of New York; travel developed, 
far beyond the bounds of mere necessity, and 
became a common form of pleasure. To be 
stire, jaunts that are a mere half -hour's run by 
train in our day were trips to be planned for 
then, and to go thirty miles was to make a 
journey. Nevertheless the New Yorker trav- 
eled, and the visitor to New York was a sight- 
seer then as now, not only within the island but 
over the surrounding country. In The Picture 
of New- York; or the Traveller's Guide through the 
Commercial Metropolis of the United States, by 
a Gentleman Residing in this City, a complete 
guide-book issued in 1807, we find not only 
directions for tours all over the city itself, but 
an appendix devoted to ** Tours in the Neighbor- 
hood of New- York." These are six in number, 
and extracts from the descriptions are as follows: 

*' I. To New Utrecht. This is the nearest 
place for sea-bathing and air. The best road to 
it is from the village of Brooklyn, through Flat- 
bush. On the road thither, the traveller may 

Tours a Century A^o 13 

note several things connected with the Revolu- 
tion. [Here the guide describes many relics 
of Putnam's defense of Brooklyn Heights, most 
of which have since disappeared.] 

''2. Tour to Rockaway. The route is 
from Brooklyn through Jamaica. You may 
travel thither along the old road, through Bed- 
ford, and by the half-way house. But a more 
agreeable and instructive route is by the new 
road, over the Wallabogt bridge, through Bush- 
wick and Newtown to Jamaica. The mill- 
pond over which this bridge passes, belongs to 
the national navy-yard. The road from New- 
town and Flushing is shortened 2 or 2}4, miles 
by it. . . . Newtown is famous for its pippins. 
. . . Hempstead-plain is a noted resort of plover, 
and great numbers of these savoury birds are 
shot every year. 

''3. Tour to Islip. Instead of visiting 
Rockaway, you may travel strait onward to 
Hempstead village . . . and eastward ... to 

'*4. Tour to Passaick Palls. You are to 
cross the Hudson from Coiutlandt street ferry, 
and pass over to Powles-hook. You may carry 
horses and carriages over with you, or you may 
take seats in one of the ordinary lines of stages 
as far as Newark. Then you may make such 
further arrangement as you please, in a village 
where there is no difficulty in procuring the 

14 Introd\jctory 

means of conveyance. But a better method 
than either, if several are going together, is, to 
make an agreement with one of the stage-offices 
in New- York, a day or two before-hand, for a 
carriage to meet you from Newark, with a single 
or double team as you may wish it, and to be on 
the ground at Powles-hook, at the precise day 
and hotir you may name; and for the stipulated 
price you may agree upon. . . . Some persons 
who are fond of active exercise, go to Newark 
on foot, a distance of only eight miles. . . . 
Formerly the passage from Powles-hook to 
Bergen was through a slough; but it is now a 
fine smooth Road. The rivers Hackinsack and 
Passaick were, until about fifteen years ago, 
passed in flats at ferries; but since that time, 
travellers cross them on bridges, for the payment 
of a toll prescribed by law. . . . Not far above 
the village [Paterson] is the highly picturesque 
cataract which the Passaick forms in descending 
from the top to the bottom of the precipice 
formed by a chasm between the rocks. There 
is a great deal of rare and sublime scenery here- 
about. On an albtrai at the inn you may write 
your name and your reflections. 

''5. To King's Bridge. This may be per- 
formed by proceeding from one of the livery 
stables or genteel boarding houses in the lower 
parts of the city. 

"6. Trip to Sandy-Hook and the Sea-Bass 

Old-Time Excursion to Sandx HooR 15 

Banks. There are several modes of being con- 
veyed thither. One is, to engage a passage on 
board the public revenue cutter. Another is, 
to procure accommodation in one of the pilot 
boats. But a third, and more easy course is, 
for a convenient number of gentlemen to charter 
a suitable coasting vessel or packet, to carry 
them a short trip to sea, and bring them back 

It is apparent from this that feminism in 1807 
had not advanced to a point which included 
ladies in pleasure excursions to the ''Sea-Bass 

A similar voltime, published in 1828 and en- 
titled The Picture of New-York and Stranger's 
Guide to the Commercial Metropolis of the United 
States f adds to the above tours similar jaunts 
to Long Branch and Staten Island. It also 
gives directions for the ''Tour around Manhat- 
tan Island," by boat, which "may be conveni- 
ently made in a few hours," and calls attention 
to the many reminders of Revolutionary his- 
tory to be seen on the trip — Fort Washington, 
Harlem Heights, and so on. 

So, as did the traveler of a century ago, let 
us set out to-day from the heart of New York 
and read the history written all around us. We 
shall follow, one by one, those ferries and roads 
which most nearly correspond to the ferries and 
roads of other days. Starting toward the east, 

l6 Introductory 

we can trace the old ways to and upon Long 
Island; south toward the Highlands, over Staten 
Island, into New Jersey — ^moving northward 
until the Palisades are reached, and Rockland 
County in New York State — crossing the Hud- 
son, we enter Westchester County, move across 
it to the shore of the Sound and East River, and 
find ourselves back on Long Island once more. 
Thus the circle is complete. 





TURNING toward the east, the early New 
Yorker began his jaunt by means of a 
ferry to Brooklyn, or Breuckland — broken land^ 
When John Areson was the lessee, the charge of 
ferriage for a single person was eight stivers in 
wampiim, or a silver two-pence; for each person 
in company, half that amount; after sunset, 
double the price; and for each horse or beast, 
one shilling if alone, and nine pence in com- 

Rip Van Dam took a lease of the ferry in 
1698, for a period of seven years, to pay 165 
pounds a year. During the period of the Revo- 
lution, the old ferry was run by Van Winkle 
and Bukett, who charged for ferriage six pence. 

At present let us pass through Brooklyn, for 
the greatest event in her history calls for a chap- 
ter alone — ^the Battle of Long Island. We will 
follow the great artery which led directly east 
into the island. 


CO Easti^ard 

One hundred and twenty-nine years ago it 
was declared in a town meeting of Jamaica that 
''no hogs shall be permitted to roam about the 
streets/' By this act the people of that Long 
Island village were declaring themselves for 
civic improvement quite as forcibly as any pre- 
sent-day municipality when it demands improved 
traffic control and underground trolley wires. 
Cllie restraint of willful hogs was an advanced 
thought in that dayj 

Jamaica was progressive. Along with Brook- 
lyn, it had deplored the conditions of travel on 
the island, and when, in the early eighteen-hun- 
dreds, the turnpike became popular in the United 
States, the Brooklyn and Jamaica Turnpike 
Company was formed, and it was only a short 
time before these toll-gate roads were running 
out from Jamaica like fingers from a hand. 
Most famous of all was the Jamaica and Jericho 
Turnpike, which still leads to the old Quaker 

(Jamaica is a town of much historic interest. 
Its most distinguished building is the former 
home of Rufus King, or King's Mansion) It 
faces the highway. Its large grounds are now city 
property and form a fine shaded park open to 
the public. Far back from the street the house 
stands, carefully preserved, and treasuring with- 
in its walls many relics — carved furniture of an- 
cient pattern, a quaint marriage chest, and so 

Kin^ in tKe Senate 21 

on. (Qn Mondays between ten and four o'clock 
this museum is opeii) 

This dignified building was erected in 1750, 
although it was not until 1805 that it won the 
distinction of being King's country seat. It 
was then that he had finished his arduous duties 
as (Minister to the Court of St. James, the ap- 
pointment made by Washington and endorsed 
by Adams and Jeffersorjj As Harvard student, 
as lawyer, as aide-de-camp to Glover in the 
Revolution, as delegate to the Continental 
Congress, and as Minister to England, he had 
won a series of distinctions, and whoever visits 
this peaceful home in Jamaica can realize what 
a rest it must have meant to settle down here 
after the strenuous career which he had fol- 

Thompson says of him: ''Mr. King's manner 
in the Senate was highly dignified, and in private 
life, that of a polished gentleman. His speeches, 
in manner and weight, gave him an exalted 
rank. Among his superior advantages, was an 
acciH-ate knowledge of dates and facts, of most 
essential service in the Senate. His two finest 
speeches are said to have been, on the burning 
of Washington by the British, and on the exclu- 
sion of Mr. Gallatin from the Senate, for the 
reason that he had not been a citizen of the 
United States long enough to entitle him to a 
seat there." 

22 East'W'ard 

Continuing along Ftilton Street, the intro- 
duction to the old turnpike, you come to several 
interesting buildings reminiscent of early-day 
Long Island. Grace Episcopal Church, east of 
Church Street, is the descendant of the early 
Episcopal Church which the English settlers 
established, and it still possesses the communion 
service sent from England in 1702 by the Society 
for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign 

On Fulton Street, too, is the Presbyterian 
Church, standing close to the original site. As 
that happened to be exactly in the middle of 
the street, it was found convenient to set the 
later building a trifle farther back. A small 
warfare took place here in the early Eighteenth 
Century : the Episcopal rector, Mr. Bartow, under 
the endorsement of Lord Cornbury, seized the 
Presbyterians' building and held services there, 
claiming the right of the Church of England. 
It was many years before a happy settlement 
of the difficulty was made. Even the old Bury- 
ing Ground, over in the South Quarter of the 
town, was drawn into the unfortunate wrangle. 

On the west side of Union Hall Street is the 
old Union Hall Academy, whose charter was 
signed in 1792 by Governor Clinton at the re- 
quest of fifty individuals, including Eliphalet 
Wickes. It was the third academic building on 
Long Island, or rather, the original was, for the 


non at IloIIis, near the Spot where Woodhull ivas Captured. 

A Tablet on the School Building at Hollis, Placed by Sons of the American 
Revolution in Honor of Woodhull. 

Be^ixinixi^s of Jamaica 23 

building standing now was erected in 1820, to 
give scope for the growth of the school. The 
schools which preceded it were those of East 
Hampton and Flatbush. 

The Jameco Indians, a group living near the 
site of the town, gave rise to the name which was 
finally adopted as permanent — or so it is sup- 
posed, although the origin of the word has been 
questioned. The Dutch settlers had previously 
called the place ''Rusdorp.*' A clause in the 
confirmatory deed, which was afterwards ob- 
tained from the Rockaway tribe of Indians, read : 

''One thing to be remembered, that noe person 
is to cut downe any tall trees wherein Eagles 
doe build theire nestsj'' 

Jamaica came to be the seat of justice for the 
north riding of Yorkshire, at its organization 
in 1665. This headquarters was not changed 
until 1788, when the courthouse was erected 
on Hempstead Plains. 

Interesting town records, dating back almost 
to the middle of the Seventeenth Century, are 
preserved in Jamaica. Thompson gives an 
account of the arrangement made at a town 
meeting in the summer of 1660, that the in- 
habitants should mow the common meadows 
by squadrons, an agreement being made that 
lots be cast for the south meadows, ''for which 
purpose the meadows were divided into four 
parts, the inhabitants into four squadrons/' 

24 East-ward 

Items which he quotes from other records 
are as follows: 

April 30, 1 66 1. ''Voted to hire a person to 
keep the towne's cowes and calves for the year, 
and also to pay Mr. Coe £11.175. in good pass- 
able wamptim out of money lent to the towne 
by Nicholas Tanner." 

May 12, 1661. ''Whereas the towne are in- 
formed off one y* milkt other ff olke cowes, being 
catcht by some off the town, they have chosen 
William ffoster to prosecute y® cause to y* ut- 
termost, either here or at the Manhattans, and 
the towne will satisfie him ff or what charge he 
shall be at about y® business." 

January 30, 1662. "The town doe promis 
to give Abraham Smith 30 s. ffor beating y* 
drum a year." 

(HpUis is about a mile east of Jamaica. Here 
the Woodhull tradition centers. You will find, 
still standing, the tavern erected in 1710 and 
practically unchanged to-day, where General 
Nathaniel Woodhull was captured by the British) 
"Goetz's" is the name by which you may know 
it; Increase Carpenter owned it during the 

In August, 1776, Woodhull,. having sent his 
men on to a point four miles east of Jamaica, 
set out to follow them. A storm overtook him; 
he sought refuge in this inn, and here the 
enemy surprised him and his capture ensued. 

Capture of WoodhuU 25 

A detachment of the 17th Regiment of Brit- 
ish dragoons and the 71st Regiment of infantry 
composed the party, under the guidance 
of certain inhabitants who had become dis- 

Woodhtill, reaHzing that he was discovered, 
immediately gave up his sword in token of sur- 
render, but this was not enough to satisfy the 
officer who approached him. This is said to 
have been Major Baird, of the 7Jst Regiment. 
'*Say, *God save the King!' '' he commanded. 
*' God save us all," replied the American general. 
The British officer, enraged, fell upon Woodhull 
with his broadsword, and nothing saved his life 
at the time but the charitable interference of 
another officer, said to have been Major De 
Lancey. As it was, Woodhull sustained severe 
wounds in the head, and the mangling of one 
arm caused, finally, his death. 

The British, resigning the purpose of compel- 
ling him to say "God save the King!", now car- 
ried him to Jamaica where they had his wounds 
dressed. The next day he was taken, along 
with some eighty other prisoners, to Gravesend, 
where he was confined on board a vessel. This 
vessel was not adapted for passengers; it had 
been used merely for the purpose of transporting 
live stock for the army, and the unsanitary 
conditions aboard it were of the worst. The 
suffering of the wounded general grew so serious 

26 East-ward 

that an officer, observing his condition, remon- 
strated with those in charge of the affair, and the 
upshot was that Woodhtill was released, taken 
to a house in New Utrecht, and there attended 
by a physician. 

But the case had advanced too far, and it was 
found necessary to amputate the injured arm* 
The General sent for his wife and requested that 
she bring with her all the money in her possession. 
When she arrived with it, he ordered that it 
be distributed among the American prisoners. 
The operation was then performed, but death 
followed, on the twentieth of September. His 
wife took the body seventy miles, to the 
Long Island farm which had been the family 

Thompson quotes a remarkable ballad on 
this theme, for a copy of which he acknowledges 
indebtedness to Philip J. Forbes of the New 
York City Library. Some of its score or more 
of stanzas run in this wise: 

Stay! Traveller, stay! And hear me tell 

A gallant soldier's fate! 
Twas on this spot brave WoodhuU fell! 

Sad story to relate! 

Full twenty foes about his head 

Their glittering sabres flung, 
And down, on his uplifted blade, 

Swift blows descending rung! 

"Tvill Twenty roes" 27 

"Who will not say 'God save the King/ 

No mercy here shall find; 
These are the terms from George we bring; 

Art thou to these inclined?" 

"I freely say *God save us all/ 

Those words include your King; 
If more ye ask, then must I fall, 

Naught else from me ye*ll wring." 

Yet still he held his trusty sword 

Upraised above his head. 
And feebly strove his life to guard 

While he profusely bled! 

A more heroic, gallant end. 

No age nor clime can boast; 
Yet history ne'er the tale hath penn'd, 

And but for me 'twere lost! 

It is not probable that "full twenty foes" 
did thus fall upon the General, but his "heroic, 
gallant end" is to be remembered. It is com- 
memorated on the grounds of a public school 
near the tavern, where stands a cannon, a monu- 
ment to WoodhuU. On the school building is 
a tablet "in memory of General Nathaniel 
Woodhull, President of the Provincial Congress 
of New York in 1775 . . . citizen, soldier, 
patriot of the Revolution." 

Before setting out on the long road to Jericho, 
a side-trip, leading into the old Hempstead 

28 Eastward 

Turnpike, carries you past highly developed 
land, spacious country residences, and hosts 
of modern bungalows — ^through a region where 
the real-estate agent thrives like a green bay 
tree and the hum of the automobile is abroad 
in the land — ^straight to a peaceful old building 
untouched by modernness. It is St. George's 
Church, that historic Hempstead house of 
worship whose communion service was presented 
by Queen Anne two centuries ago. 

The building first erected here was demolished, 
but the site is the same. The gravestones in 
the green churchyard are, many of them, as 
quaint as those found in the Sleepy Hollow 
Cemetery and others of that period. Queer 
little distorted angels hover at their tops, and 
the long ''s" is in evidence. Many distin- 
guished names are to be found here, among 
them several of the Seaburys, the Reverend 
Samuel, for one, long rector of this parish. The 
inscription reads, ''Here lieth Interred The Body 
of the Rev*? Samuel Seabury, A.M., Rector of 
the Parish of Hempstead, who with the greatest 
Diligence and most indefatigable Labor for 13 
years at New London and 21 years in this Parish, 
Having Discharged every Duty of his Sacred 
Function Died the 15th of June An. Dom. 1764.'* 

A near-by stone bears the name of Captain 
David Seabury, and the date 1750. 

The town of Hempstead was settled by a group 

•*TKe Sinn of Dr\:inKennesse** 29 

of English from Wethersfield and Stamford, 
some of whom are supposed to have been natives 
of Hemel Hempstead, near London. It is not 
known why they chose to leave New England 
and emigrate to Long Island soil; but in 1643 
they sent a committee to blaze a trail for the 
little colony, and purchase land from the In- 
dians. The group followed the next spring, 
crossing the Sound and landing at Hempstead 
Harbor. They immediately began their set- 
tlement, where the town arose later, and ob- 
tained their patent or ground-brief from 

These Puritans, religious and sober-minded 
though they were, nevertheless permitted the 
sale of intoxicating liquors within their boun- 
daries. They issued licenses for the same, or- 
daining that one-half of the money received 
from the unlicensed sale of beer, wine, or strong 
liquors, should be used to pay the public expenses, 
and the other half devoted to the education of 
poor children. An item in the town records of 
1659 indicates, however, that trouble ensued: 

''Whereas there hath formerly an ordre been 
made ag^* the Sinn of drunkennesse, and that 
wee finde by daylie Experience, that itt is prac- 
tised in this place to y^ dishonnor of God, and 
therefor wee doe Againe reniue y® same, and 
doe ordre that Any that have formerly or shall 
hereafter transgress shall pay for y® first fault 

30 East-ward 

lo guilders, for the second 20 guilders and for 
the third to stand to the determinacion of y* 
court according to y® first ordre." 

To reach the Jericho Turnpike again, you 
may go by way of Mineola. From this town 
the distance is a matter of some half-dozen 
miles to the old terminus of the road. The 
trolley line deviates a trifle from this route, 
going as far as Hicksville. 

As you push on, you are in the midst of old 
Quaker associations. The land on which Jericho 
stands was a part of the purchase made by Robert 
Williams in 1650, and settled not long after by 
a colony of Quaker families. They built their 
little meeting-house in 1689, and in it the great 
leader, Elias Hicks, officiated from time to 

On the trolley route between Mineola and 
Hicksville, the traveler passes the town of West- 
bury. North of this lies old Westbury, the 
village which was built by farming Friends. It 
is a short detour- from the tiurnpike. 

'' Wallage'' was the Indian name for this spot, 
and it was a center for many a thrifty family 
who found the soil of Long Island to their liking. 
The Friends established two meeting-houses 
here, and the old cemetery with its half -forgotten 
graves is to be seen in the midst of this green 
sweep of fine land. 

In Jericho did Elias Hicks find the Quaker 

St. George's Church, Hempstead, One of the Earliest 
Parishes on Long Islaiid. 

The Mansion once Belonging to Rujiis King, Jamaica, 




Elias HicKs 31 

maiden who became his wife. Although he was 
born in Hempstead, it is Jericho which is most 
strongly associated with his remarkable life, 
for here he made his home for all the years 
after his marriage in 177 1. It was the head- 
quarters from which he started on his preach- 
ing tours, covering more than ten thousand 
miles on foot during the years when he traveled 
through the United States from Maine to Ohio, 
and through much of Canada, teaching the 

One thousand times Hicks spoke in public, 
never accepting a cent for his labors in the ser- 
vice of God, and subsisting by the products of 
his little Long Island farm. He was one of the 
most forceful, and one of the earliest, Aboli- 
tionists, and he waged war in his sermons against 
negro slavery, being the power behind the Act 
of 1827, which freed all the slaves in New York 
State, For him Hicksville was named, and 
from his teaching sprang the Hicksites, now 
one of the two great divisions of the Friends' 

So popular did the Jericho Ttirnpike become 
that it was not long before an extension was 
built to Smithtown. Until the turnpike era, 
Long Island had been backward in road develop- 
ment. This was partly the result of mail con- 
ditions. When the mail-carrier service had been 
first introduced, there was a generally awakened 

32 Easti^irarcl 

interest in the improvement of public roads; 
Franklin, as Postmaster-General, had estab- 
lished the service. But the Long Islanders 
apparently were not letter-writers, the mail 
deliveries were a week, or even a fortnight 
apart, and before the Revolution the service was 
withdrawn. Once more the ''better roads'' en- 
thusiasm wslumbered. Furman speaks of ''a re- 
spectable old Scotchman named Dunbar'' who 
''was in the habit of riding a voluntary post 
between the city of New York and Babylon, 
thence east, and to Brookhaven." But until 
almost the Nineteenth Century Long Island had 
not a single post office. 

Furman describes an early-day stage trip 
from Brooklyn to Hempstead and Babylon. 
It was customary, he says, for the regular mail 
stage to leave the former town once a week, at 
about nine o'clock on Thtirsday morning — ''they 
were not, however, particular as to a half- 
hour/' This stage was at one time the only 
conveyance travelers could have through the 
Island, unless they took a private carriage. At 
Hempstead they dined; at Babylon they supped, 
and put up for the night. "No one was in 
haste to get to his journey's end, and if he was, 
and intended going the whole route, he soon 
became effectually cured of it." 

At times the traveler would descend from the 
vehicle to observe the bright waters or the fine 

Rural Letter Boxes 33 

vegetation. ''After walking for some two or 
three miles upon the green sward at the edge of 
the road, gathering and eating the berries as 
you strolled along, until you were tired, you 
wovild find the stage a short distance behind you, 
the driver very complaisant, for you have much 
eased his horses in their journey thro' the heavy 

The second night of the journey was spent 
*'at a place called Quagg, or Quogue/' Next 
morning breakfast was had at Southampton, 
later on the ''Shinecoc*' Hills were passed, Sag 
Harbor offered dinner, and Saturday evening 
found the weary traveler at Easthampton. 

The mail was delivered on this journey some- 
what as the rural carriers of to-day deliver it. 
If a town did not lie on the post route (sometimes 
one was as much as a mile away), the carrier 
would leave letters in a box fastened to a tree, 
or on a rock specified for the purpose. 

For the traveler who attempted to make his 
way into the island without depending on the 
stage driver's knowledge, dire results were liable 
to ensue, as Prime sets forth in his account of 
the difficulties of Long Island roads. The three 
principal roads, distinguished as the North, 
Middle, and South, were intersected by many 
little roads and wood-paths which confused the 
stranger hopelessly. They were so worn by 
constant carting that they ''not unfrequently 

34 East'ward 

appear the most direct and most used, . . . the 
stranger is constantly liable to go astray; and 
that too, where he might remain a whole day, 
without meeting a person to set him right/' 



A NOTHER early road from Jamaica led to 
-^ Flushing, that stronghold of the Quakers. 
In fact, for many years after the establishment 
of the latter town, there was no way to reach 
it from New York except by way of Brooklyn 
and Jamaica. Forests, brooks, and swamps cut 
off the approach from other directions. Thomp- 
son relates the story of a man who lived near 
the head of the bay, where he kept a country 
store, and, desirous of increasing his income, 
added three or four passengers to the hogshead 
of molasses which he was in the habit of carry- 
ing across in his Indian canoe. This, however, 
could hardly be called systematic transporta- 
tion, as both molasses and passengers cotild 
make their trip only in fair weather. 

The Flushing Bridge and Road Company, 
incorporated in 1802, improved the road from 
Brooklyn, shortening it by about four miles. 

As ferries and roads developed, there came to 
be another way of reaching Flushing from New 


36 East^ward 

York. This was by a more northern course. 
It cannot be exactly followed to-day, owing to 
the shif tings of land and watercourses; but it 
is approximated by starting from the foot of 
East Ninety-second Street, where the present 
Astoria ferry plies. The New Yorker of yester- 
day betook himself to the foot of East Eighty- 
sixth Street, where the East River Park was 
laid out later, including the point known as 
Harris Hook. There the ferryboat awaited 

Even in the Twentieth Century there is a spirit 
of quaintness about this uptown ferrj^ so much 
used, and yet so unknown to many residents of 
Manhattan. A venerable ticket-seller counts 
your pennies while his great gray cat checks 
them off with shrewd and unwinking golden 
eyes. Such a ticket-seller, such a cat, seem to 
belong to a generation that is past. 

On a map now more than half a century old 
one may see, jutting out from the east shore of 
the East River, that same squarish bump of land 
which is known to-day as Astoria — a promon- 
tory which seems a cltmisy excrescence on a 
smooth shore. One may read ''Hell Gate*' in 
the water beside it; to the south is BlackwelFs 
Island, just as now, but to the north, that great 
block of land on which the walls of the Inebriate 
Asylum and the Emigrant Hospital rise, is 
found marked as "Great Barn Island.'' 

A Pioneer of A.storia 37 

About the period of the map which I have in 
mind, the Ravenswood region which lay near 
Astoria and toward Hunter's Point was con- 
nected with New York City by a system of 
stages. They ran by way of Astoria and the 
ferry at Eighty-sixth Street, to the end of the 
Bowery far below. This route is fairly covered 
by a modern boat and an electric elevated rail- 
way to-day; yesterday, by a boat of ancient 
pattern and a stage drawn by horses. 

As you make the crossing now, you pass from 
the crowded shore of Manhattan to what ap- 
pears an equally crowded shore on the other side. 
The vivid green of the park, and of the islands 
to your north and your south, makes bright 
blotches of color in the midst of drab masses 
of manufacturing. A brief voyage, and you 
arrive at Astoria: a part of greater New York, 
a large, busy, crowded town, and yet a place 
never seen by many Manhattanites. 

The northern corner of this promontory is 
called Hallett's Point, which name, along with 
that of Hallett's Cove, came from William Hal- 
lett, who emigrated to this place from Dorset- 
shire as early as 1652. A grant from Stuyvesant 
and a purchase from the Indians gave him all 
the land which is now covered by Astoria, and 
he may justly be regarded as the pioneer of this 

It was in 1839 that the region of Hallett's 

38 East^ward 

Cove was made an incorporated village, and 
something like a boom occurred. A female 
seminary was started, and John Jacob Astor, 
being interested in the place, promised to 
contribute largely to its support. The name 
''Astoria'' was given to the new village, the 
ferry to Eighty-sixth Street was established, 
and the growth was rapid. 

As you glance along the picturesque shore of 
this irregular portion of the East River, you 
can readily realize why it was a fashionable 
suburban district three-quarters of a century 
ago. The broken lines of water and land, the 
green islands, the heights, were quite sufficient 
to lure the builder of a countryseat. General 
Ebenezer Stevens built himself a summer home 
facing the bay opposite the upper end of Black- 
weirs Island, and there commanded a fine 
view of land and water from his height. Other 
wealthy men followed his example, and the 
locality soon came to be reckoned ''elegant." 

On the same old map one can trace a fine line 
leading from the shore of the Astoria promon- 
tory, running back into Long Island, moving 
almost due east, and bearing the mark "Toll 
Gate.'' Here ran one of the old roads which 
found its way eventually to Flushing. Beyond 
Flushing it was extended, continued eastward 
until it brought up at last in one of the north 
shore's numerous bays. 

St. George* s Church — the New Building — Flushing. 

The Bowlder Marking the Spot where George Fox Preached. 




St. George's, FlusKing 39 

A trolley running from the Astoria ferry fol- 
lows a similar direction. It passes through the 
town of Astoria, on to Woodside, thence straight 
into the center of Flushing, after skirting Flush- 
ing Bay with its merry showing of stmimer vaca- 
tion boats. This town was one of the earliest 
settlements on Long Island. 

St. George's Church stands on Main Street. 
The building which rises before you, large and 
prosperous, is the modern house of worship 
erected by the old parish; but back of it, just 
beyond the group of old gravestones, stands the 
original church, gray and weather-beaten, clad 
in its stout shingles of early date. This build- 
ing is careftilly preserved at the rear of the 
church property, and is used as a Sunday-school 

The first establishment of the Church of 
England in this vicinity placed the triplet towns. 
Flushing, Newtown, and Jamaica, under one 
clergyman's care. One of the early preachers, 
who held services once a month in the Flushing 
Guard House, wrote of the town that ''most of 
the inhabitants thereof are Quakers, who rove 
through the country from one village to 
another, talk blasphemy, corrupt the youth, 
and do much mischief.'' Others, however, 
were of another mind as regards these thrifty 

St. George's parish still preserves two manu- 

40 EastiTvard 

script sermons of the Reverend Thomas Poyer, 
that brave clergyman who lived through such 
grievous struggles with the Nonconformists. 
He had a tragic experience of American life. 
It was in December, 1710, that he came from 
Wales; he traveled for three months, crossing 
the Atlantic, and when he reached the coast of 
Long Island, only a hundred miles from his 
destination he was shipwrecked. 

The poor man was rescued only to plunge into 
more trouble. He entered upon his work, and 
soon found himself the object of the villagers* 
persecutions. The shopkeepers would not sell 
him provisions, and he feared starvation; the 
miller would not grind his corn, and advised 
him to eat it whole, ''as do the hogs." For 
more than twenty years he fought his battle, 
at last asking to be relieved of the labor; but 
the same year he was stricken with smallpox, 
and died. 

The charter of this famous old church was 
dated June 17, 1761, which was the first year 
of the reign of George the Third. But a few 
blocks away, beyond the park, near where the 
public playground has been laid out, is another 
famous old church. This is the meeting-house 
of the Religious Society of Friends erected in 
1694, You read, ''Meetings for Worship First 
Days at 11 a.m. All welcome. First Day 
School at 10 A.M." 

Xhe BoiTirzie Hoiise 41 

This is the house of worship erected by some 
of the earliest and most courageous settlers of 
the Island, and we have but to look at its stiirdy 
old walls to conjure up a picture of the Friends 
of long ago wending their way along green lanes 
and across footpaths through the fields, all 
gathering here for worship. 

Some of the first Quakers in Flushing came 
from Gravesend, where they had settled, but, 
persecuted by Governor Stuyvesant, they moved 
to a point where they thought they could have 
more freedom. A familiar name among the 
worshipers in this church was that of John 

It is in the Bowne house that you will find 
the most remarkable glimpses of long ago still 
cherished in this vicinity. But a short distance 
back from the meeting-house, on Bowne Avenue, 
it stands, surrounded by a large yard, and fairly 
smothered by trees and vines. It looks as 
homelike a spot to-day as it must have looked 
in struggling early days to George Fox, when 
he sought rest within its walls. 

It was in 1672 that this preacher came to 
Flushing from Oyster Bay, a journey which he 
bravely faced in spite of the difficulties of travel. 
Neither miles nor hardships nor persecution 
daunted the valiant Fox. 

John Bowne offered his house as headquarters, 
and the Friends assembled from far and near 

42 Easti^ard 

to hear the great speaker. ''We had a very- 
large meeting/' he wrote with pardonable satis- 
faction, **many hundreds of people being there, 
some coming thirty miles. A glorious and 
heavenly meeting it was (praised be the Lord 
God!), and the people were much satisfied.'* 

Step across the street for a moment and see 
the spot where he stood to address this ''glorious 
and heavenly meeting. ' ' A large bowlder marks 
it now; formerly the visitor could see the oaks 
themseWes, long known as the "Fox Oaks,'' 
under which he stood. Gabriel Ftirman visited 
the spot in 1825 and measured the trees, finding 
one of the splendid trunks to be thirteen feet 
in circumference, the other twelve feet four 
inches. They have long since fallen, one in 
1841, the other in 1863, having lived, it is 
supposed, to be as much as four hundred years 

Back in the Bowne house, you will be shown 
the couch on which Fox reposed when he had fin- 
ished his labor. It is only one of many hoarded 
relics. The rooms are filled with old pieces of 
furniture, samplers, pictures, countless other re- 
minders of past Quaker days. The building is 
kept open for the benefit of the public. 

In the library you may see the secret spot 
where the family silver was hidden during the 
war. Toy cribs, a good type of spinning wheel, 
and a bookcase constructed in the house, are 

The Friends' Meeting-Hotise in Flushing, Erected in 1694. 

The Old Home of the Prince Family, Flushing. The Grounds were once Included 
in the Linncean Botanical Gardens, the First Nursery in America. 




Elia^abetH Fry's Jest 43 

on display here. The samplers are of interest. 
One is signed ''Eliza Bowne, Nine Partners 
Boarding School, 1800, Aged 12 years/' and 

Blest solitude, how sweet thy peaceful scenes! 

Where contemplation's votaries love to stray; 
Where In her sapient dress religion reigns, 

And shines more splendid than the noontide ray. 

And farther on, in one of the bedrooms, to 
offset the solemnity of this sampler, one may 

(Sir R. Peel) — ''I am afraid, Mrs. Fry, there 
is too much Sugar in the Brandy." 

(Elizabeth Fry) — ''Thou must take it in the 
spirit in which it is given.'' 

With "in the spirit'' carefully italicized, lest 
the sober Quaker mind miss the point of Eliza- 
beth Fry's demure jest. 

There are, among the treasures, a rope bed, a 
Grannie Grace chair, a portrait of Fox, and an 
oak table put together with wooden pins — the 
last-named as old as the house itself, and formerly 
used at the yearly meetings held there. For a 
long time this was the chief meeting place of 
many Friends, and the old oven used to open 
like a giant mouth to receive the hordes of loaves 
which were fed into it for these conferences. 
Logs dragged by chains were brought in to 

44 Easti^ard 

keep up the roaring fire. Thirty or forty- 
loaves were a mere bagatelle for the Bowne 
kitchen to produce. Under the stairs the 
logs were stored, ready for the strenuous 
baking days. 

Preserved in one of the rooms is the gallant 
staff of Thomas Bowne, emigre 1649, with which 
he is said to have killed a bear. 

Close to the house, at the head of Fox Lane, 
stands a handsome old horse-chestnut tree, 
characteristic of Flushing. The town is famous 
for its very large, very well-preserved, and very 
varied trees, and thereby hangs a tale. In 1732 
William Prince established the Linnaean Botanic 
Garden, the first "modern'' nursery of America, 
making himself thus the pioneer nturseryman 
of his country. 

Not only did his own work, carried on under 
the Linnaean system, thrive marvelously, but 
others took it up, making Flushing the most 
famous town in America for the raising of trees, 
shrubs, and flowers. At the time of the Revolu- 
tion the Prince garden was so wonderful that 
General Howe was moved to place a guard at 
either end when the British troops entered the 
town, that no depredations might be committed. 
During the war three thousand cherry trees were 
cut down for hoop poles because they could not 
be sold; this gives some idea of the extent of 
the nurseries. William IV. of England, then 

THe Linnaean Garden 45 

Prince William, visited the town to see the 
Linnaean Garden in 1782. 

William Prince has long since gone, but the 
old Prince home is to be seen now at No. 20 
Broadway, and in the yard is still standing one 
of the cedars of Lebanon, several of which in 
old days graced the lawn. 

On Main Street, not far from the railroad 
station, stands a large colonial btdlding with a 
broad lawn before it. This was once the Flush- 
ing Institute, established in 1827, and directed 
by the Reverend Dr. William Augustus 

The ''Hotine House,'' as it is familiarly 
known, at 189 Broadway, is a representative 
of early days, dating back before the Revolu- 
tion, although much altered in outward appear- 
ance. Although local tradition has occasionally 
labeled it ''Washington's Headquarters" and 
''Howe's Headquarters," it is doubtftil whether 
any Revolutionary history of importance at- 
taches to it — although the secret closet hidden 
within its walls is mysterious enough to lend 
credence to many tales. The house was erected 
sometime before the Revolution by Mr. Aspin- 
wall, has passed through several hands, and is 
now owned by Dr. Bloodgood. 

The history of the town of Flushing is difficult 
to trace in many details, because of the lament- 
able fact that its records, long ago kept in the 

46 East-ward 

house of John Vanderbilt, the town clerk, were 
burnt along with the house at the end of the 
Eighteenth Century by two slaves, Sarah and 
Nelly. The culprits were hanged in 1790, 
Aaron Burr being the prosecuting attorney, but 
this satisfaction of a primitive public vengeance 
did not restore the missing links of history. 

The names of the town's pioneers are there- 
fore buried forever. But it is known that a 
group of English, who had lived for a time in 
Holland, were probably the first settlers here. 
It is supposed that they were induced to emi- 
grate to this region by agents of the province 
of New Netherlands. The civil and religious 
privileges of a new country were the chief 
inducement held out to them. 

These planters had been kindly treated by 
a Holland community, and in gratitude for 
this recollection they gave their new town that 
other town's name — ^Vlishing, or Vlissengen. 
It was in the spring of 1645 that they arrived 
here; they obtained a patent or ground-brief 
from Kieft, and the place grew rapidly. The 
soil was phenomenally good, which accounts for 
the later development of the nurseries, although, 
as Thompson comments, it leaves us at a loss to 
know why the Dutch had not already seized 
upon so fertile a spot. 

In very early days the public business of the 
town was mostly transacted in a building called 

St. George's Church — the Old Building — Flushing, in which the 
Manuscript Sermons of the Rev. Thos. Poyer are Preserved. 

A Corner of the Bowne House ^ Flushing. 

The Bergen Homestead. 

The Old Lefferts Homestead in Flatbush. 

-A SKeriflTs Difficulties 47 

the Block House, which stood near the site of 
the town pond. Pond and Block House have 
both vanished. Here were kept the town re- 
cords, where arms and ammunition were stored. 

The illiberal methods of the powers that were, 
aroused much hard feeling among the settlers, 
and a state of friction arose, sometimes culmi- 
nating in overt insubordination. A glimpse of 
this spirit is caught in a public record of 1648 : 

*' Thomas Hall, an inhabitant of fflishingen, 
in New Netherlands, being accused that he 
prevented the sheriff of fflishengen to doe his 
duty, and execute his office, in apprehending 
Thomas Heyes, which Thomas Hall confesseth, 
that he kept the door shut, so that noe one might 
assist the sheriff, demands mercy, and promises 
he will do it never again, and regrets very much 
that he did so. The director and council doing 
justice condemn the said Thomas in a fine of 
25 guilders, to be applied at the discretion of the 



T^AP at an ancient Dutch door with its brass 
-■' knocker, and the upper half will open 
cautiously until you, as a stranger, are appraised. 
If you are favored, the lower half will open and 
let you in. 

And this depends upon your own powers of 
imagination. If you see before you merely 
a dilapidated building, then you may as well 
take your leave at once. But if the very rat- 
tat of the old knocker conjures up before you a 
buxom, brass-polishing Dutch matron; if the 
sight of twenty small panes in a window suggests 
to you a rosy, cap-framed Dutch face peeping 
forth; if you see at once a picture of sand-strewn 
floors and shining pewter and corded bedsteads 
and hairy trunks and hand-spun linen and knit 
worsted stockings and Bibles dangling at round 
belts — ^then the door of the past swings wide to 
you, and you are admitted to the Dutch days on 

old Long Island. 


Earlx DutcH Farms 49 

Over the yellowed surface of an old map one 
may trace a road which led from Brooklyn 
somewhat east of south, toward the beach. It 
passed through Flatbush and Flatlands; just 
below the latter it forked, and several tines of 
the fork all pointed toward Jamaica Bay. Along 
this road the old map indicates homesteads; 
the names ''J. Lefferts,'' ''J. Cortelyou,'' '^G. 
Vandeveers," and ''J. Johnson,'' are among the 
sturdy list. 

In this direction the early Holland residents 
took up land and built themselves farmhouses. 
Here they planted, cultivated, prospered. They 
built substantially, according to the custom of 
their time, and many of their houses stand to- 
day almost as they were in days before the Revo- 
lution shook our country. Their chtirches, too, 
are standing; and in their quiet yards many of 
these old settlers lie sleeping. 

To-day a trolley line carries the traveler along 
a road which, in the main, follows the direction 
of that of the yellowed map. Back in the Seven- 
teenth Century, the roads on Long Island were 
little more than bridle paths, and the ladies 
who traveled over them usually rode horseback. 
A cushion was placed behind the saddle of the 
gentleman, and thereon the lady was mounted 
for her ride. 

The lumber wagon and the sleigh, which ran 
upon split saplings, were the earliest vehicles 

50~ Eastward 

used by the Dutch on Long Island. Previous 
to the Revolution, the one-horse chaise, mounted 
upon its two wheels, came into fashion, and in 
this the prosperous Long Islander made his 

The Dutch homes hereabouts were mostly- 
built of wood. Now and then a dwelling of 
brick or stone arose. The houses were con- 
structed with an overshot roof which formed a 
piazza by its projection from the front of the 
house; occasionally the roof was overshot at 
both front and rear. The houses had one low 
story, above which heavy oak beams formed a 
basis for the attic floor. These beams above 
the unceiled rooms are still to be seen in the 
best preserved dwellings. 

The familiar pair of chimneys, one at each 
end of the house, rose from a pair of huge fire- 
places. They were made so wide that the entire 
family — by no means small in ntmiber — could 
gather about the fire. Some of the fireplaces, 
in the better houses, were adorned with Dutch 
scriptural tiles of Delft blue and white. In the 
great chimneys, meat was hung to be roasted or 

The main room of the house, the '*best 
room," was used as a dining-room on great 
occasions, although the enormous bedstead 
was the principal piece of furniture there 
displayed. The two feather-beds, one to rest 

THe Lefferts Homestead 51 

under, one over the victim, were always in 

Flatbush Avenue carries you along the path 
of this early Dutch life. As you pass beyond the 
closely-built business district of Brooklyn you 
will catch glimpses here and there of early types 
of houses, more or less altered. At last, on the 
left, you come upon a fine old specimen — ^gray, 
well-ordered, shaded by large trees, and sur- 
rounded by a broad lawn. Its roof has a 
curving sweep; at each end rises a chimney, 
and the low porch extends under the old over- 
shot roof. 

This, No. 563 Flatbush Avenue, is the 
Lefferts homestead of pre-Revolutionary period 
— or rather, the original house was built before 
the war, burned during its storm and stress, and 
rebuilt, on the same spot, of the same model, soon 
afterwards. Pieter Lefferts, that esteemed set- 
tler, was the inhabitant then, and the house has 
remained in the family ever since. 

There is a tradition to the effect that the 
large barn standing behind the dwelling used 
to harbor slaves in slavery days. 

The small eagle now to be seen above the 
front door is a treastired heirloom. The broad 
hall and spindle balusters are unchanged. A 
story pertaining to the modern history of the 
house is that a moving-picture company, aware 
of the building's perfection of type, decided to 

52 East-ward 

make a bold dash and invade it in the owner's 
absence. A young woman was alone there, a 
caretaker; when the company arrived, hoop 
skirts, soldierly uniforms and all, prepared to 
seize upon the great hall and staircase for the 
delightful background which they afforded, the 
young woman stood her ground as if she were 
resisting a British invasion — ^ghosts of the Re- 
volution returned to invade the old residence — 
and the ''movey'' heroes and heroines retired 
in confusion, routed. 

A short walk along the avenue from this spot 
brings you to that church which is the lineal 
descendant of the one built by the first Dutch 
settlers of Flatbush. The first was erected 
upon this site by order of Governor Peter 
Stuyvesant in 1654, ^^^ three churches have 
occupied the ground. The second was built 
in 1698 and the present in 1796. Its tablet 
states that '* the emblem of the Reformed 
Dutch Church of America consists of the 
Coat of Arms of William of Orange combined 
with the ecclesiastical symbols, the pillars and 

It is recorded in early annals that the minister 
became inattentive to his calling, and complaint 
was made by the people. He was holding 
services but once in a fortnight, they claimed, 
and even then for only fifteen minutes, merely 
reading a prayer instead of a sermon. Great 

Church of the Early Dutch Settlers in Flatbiish. 

Old Well, Philipse Manor. 

Erasmus Hall High School To-day, Built about the Old Erasmus Hall 
Academy. The Original School Founded in lySy. 

The FlatbusK CH\xrcKyard 53 

was the offense felt by these pious settlers. The 
Governor listened to the complaint and issued 
orders to the minister that he ''shotild attend 
more diligently to his work.' 

Behind the building, which replaces the an- 
cient wooden one, you will find many crumbling 
old red stones of that period, half -hidden among 
the more pretentious gray and white monuments 
of recent years. The names are spelled in old 
lettering, and the inscriptions are in the language 
of the settlers. Partly obliterated, such words 
as *'Vrou", and "Hier licht begraven," catch 
the eye. Several members of the Lefferts 
family are buried here; ''Sarah Van Der Bilt,'' 
''Rem Vanderbelt," are found. One stone is 
"in memory of Phebe Voorhees, the affectionate 
wife of Peter I. Cortelyou," and her epitaph can 
be traced: 

Here lies a friend bereaved of life, 
A pious mother, a loving wife. 

Across the street from this church, Erasmus 
Hall High School proudly rises, not in the least 
suggesting the modest Erasmus Hall Academy 
which was its forebear. A part of its walls is of 
the old building, but that is hidden in the new. 
This was one of those early educational institu- 
tions which distinguished Long Island. It was 
established in 1787, and one of its earliest 

54 East-ward 

principals was John Henry Livingston, the first 
theological professor whom the Dutch Reformed 
Church had in our country. 

Continuing along Flatbush Avenue, you will 
come upon several more old homes, still in 
fair or even excellent preservation. For one, 
there is the house at the corner of Avenue J. 
It stands a bit back from the street, and 
the country around it is sufficiently open to 
give a suggestion of the days when this, like 
the other homesteads, was an isolated farm- 
house, surrounded by fertile acres which Dutch 
diligence tilled. 

Other homes of this period were: the 
Henry S. Ditmas house at the corner of 
Ditmas and Flatbush avenues, known for its 
fine example of an old Dutch door; the Lott 
house (there were several Lotts) at 1084 Flat- 
bush Avenue; and the Vanderbilt home at 
610, with its Dutch oven in the cellar, now 

Flatbush of now was Midwout, or Middle 
Woods, in ancient days. The settlement was be- 
gun about the middle of the Seventeenth Cen- 
tury, probably in 1 65 1 . Even earlier than this, in 
1636, was that neighboring settlement started, 
called by the Dutch New Amersfort, now known 
as Flatlands. At the time of the latter settle- 
ment, there was a tobacco plantation in the 
town^ owned by ex-Governor Van Twiller, 

THe Flatlaxids CHvircH 55 

which was commonly called Van Twiller's 
Bowery and was well known long after the 
hamlet was established. 

The boundary lines of these towns are un- 
noticeable in the merging of modern btiilding, 
and the road runs imperceptibly from Flatbush 
on into Flatlands. On your left you will spy 
a shining white tower, rising as peaked, and as 
cleanly snowy, as the toy chtirch steeples of 
your childhood's play. Around it the little 
pointed lawn is so green, all the paint is 
so gleaming, that the whole effect suggests some- 
thing rather unreal, like an imaginary Spotless 
Town holding aloof from this grimy, dusty, 
smoky world. 

This is the old Reformed Dutch Church of 
Flatlands, a most picturesque link in this chain 
of Long Island tradition. It is trim and prim 
as one of New England's dapper meeting- 
houses, and the inscriptions on the churchyard 
stones are delightfully quaint. The church 
stands on the King's Highway — a road with a 
history of its own — at the intersection of East 
Fortieth Street 

Here, as in the Flatbush churchyard, the 
oldest inscriptions are largely in the Dutch 
language. Some in English, however, appeal 
to the English-speaking observer. 

*' Sarah Spong, d. 1830, Aged 81," appears on 
a stone above the lines: 

56 East-ward 

How lov'd how valu'd once avails the not 
To whom related or by whom begot. 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee 
'Tis all thou art and all the proud shall be. 

A gentler reflection on death is embodied in 
the epitaph of '' Wilhelmina, daughter of Nicho- 
las and Alette Schenck, 1816, 21 years/* 

Here Wilhelmina's ashes lay 
The grave receives her precious clay 
But angels waft her soul on high 
All hail her Savior in the sky. 

This church was organized on February 9, 
1654, and was a gathering place for Dutch 
farmers for many miles around. 

Near Bergen Beach beyond, where the merry- 
go-round and the ice-cream-cone vender now 
flourish, the trail of history is still to be traced. 
The ancient Schenck house standing near the 
beach is one of the oldest to be found anywhere 
about. Several houses of old Dutch architecture 
stiU stand. One of them, hardly changed in outer 
appearance, distinctly of the period of Holland 
settlers, with sloping low roof, is now equipped 
with hot and cold running water and all modern 
improvements which tend to make country life 
comfortable; thus are the past and present 
happily wedded! 

Most famous of all these old homes is the 

A Hunter's Cabin 57 

Bergen homestead on East Seventy-second 
Street. The charm of its detached situation, its 
old trees and gray shingled walls, draws many a 
visitor. We found the present resident sitting 
on its broad lawn under the shade of one of its 

"What do you know about the place?'* we 
asked him, wondering if traditions hitherto 
unpublished were stored in his mind. 

''That I can't drive a nail nur a screw into 
these old hand-made shingles,'' he responded. 
''I've tried it an' tried it, an' they're hard as 
bricks. They don't make shingles o' that kind 
o' wood nowadays ! Nur build that way nowa- 
days! That house was built to last, I know 
that much about it." 

He settled down comfortably for a chat. 
"There isn't much telling just when the begin- 
ning of this house was," he went on. "They 
say that end of it — " pointing to the western 
portion of the building — "was a kind o' cabin 
belonging to a hunter in early days — ^some fellow 
that hunted and trapped hereabouts, selling 
skins and making his living that way. That 
was before farming came to be the business o' 
this community. Then Bergen came along, 
they say, and liked the situation, and he bought 
the land — all this land — " with a vast sweep of 
the hand, "cabin and all, and since it was a solid 
enough kind o' building, though small, he built 

S8 Eastward 

on till there was a good-sized house. It belonged 
in the Bergen family till maybe twenty years 

The accepted date of the homestead is 1655 or 
1656, and it is said that in 1791 John Bergen 
came into possession of this beach, and enlarged 
the house to meet his growing demands. Some 
of its treasures, such as the old Dutch knocker, 
have melted away, but the tiny-paned windows 
remain, a flawless relic of the old days. 

Within sight of this place, only a few minutes' 
walk beyond, is the noisy whirl of fortune-tellers 
and peanut venders and wheels that carry 
shrieking pleasure-seekers into the air. It is a 
world far removed from the sober round of farm 
and household toil which the settlers of these 
parts followed, day in and day out, through 
their diligent lives. It takes a very austere 
form of sobriety to settle a raw country. The 
American of to-day has leisure and nickels for 
peanuts and pleasure-wheels because the settlers 
of this period allowed themselves no leisure 
whatever. But there is something which strikes 
one as a trifle impertinent on the part of a bump- 
tious young pleastire-spot like Bergen Beach 
thus thrusting itself under the very nose of 
ancient sobriety. 

That bold, brave, stubborn old dictator, Peter 
Stuyvesant, permitted no church except the 
Dutch Reformed tobe established in his territory. 


•3^ a 

^ pq 



t^ r:^ 

Where the Prospect Park Swan Boat ?tow Plies, the Din of Battle ojice was Heard. 

The Battle Pass Tablet in Prospect Park, Marking the Outer Line of Defense 

in 1776. 

j\ Grim Government 59 

Robert Hodgson, a Quaker refugee, was brought 
before Stuyvesant and his council, was not per- 
mitted to utter a word of defense, and was 
sentenced to hard labor at the wheelbarrow for 
two years. He was chained to the wheelbarrow 
and ordered to go to work, loading and wheeling 
it, on a hot midsummer day; when he refused to 
accept this punishment for no crime save that 
of preaching his religion, he was beaten, starved, 
and tortured. Not till public sympathy stirred 
in his behalf was he released. 

This was the grim conception of government 
under which life moved. It created in the people 
a spirit of stern industry, at once forceful and 
narrow. Stuyvesant 's employers in Holland 
rebuked him for over-zeal, and a gentler sway 

The first houses built on the Island were 
protected against marauding Indians by strong 
palisades. These girt the houses about, and 
disappeared as the need for them disappeared. 

East of Coney Island lies another island which 
belonged to the town of Flatlands. In early 
years it was much larger than it is now, and was 
covered with red cedar and other trees, not in 
the least suggesting its later name of Barren 
Island. This spot of land is said to have been 
one of the headquarters of a band of early-day 
pirates — ^the band ruled by the famous Gibbv?. 
Here they hid away much of their booty, which 

6o Eaat'ward 

was chiefly in the form of Mexican dollars, as 
they had suffered the misfortune of losing the 
rest of it when their boat upset in their attempts 
to land. These men were later on convicted 
of piracy and murder, being turned over to the 
law by one of their own number, and all but 
the tale-teller paid the penalty by being executed 
together on Gibbet Island in New York Harbor 
in the year 1831. 

When the early Holland emigrants arrived 
at New Amersfort, they found an Indian trail 
leading from Jamaica Bay to East River. This 
the farmers, ''boers'' as they were then called, 
traced, and found that it led to Midwout. For 
protection, they planted their homesteads fairly 
near together along this path, and thus began 
the first road between the towns. 

Ross states that not until 1704 was a real 
effort made to improve the roads through- 
out the State. The Legislature passed a law 
by which three commissioners were appointed 
in each of the counties in Long Island, to lay 
out a highway from Brooklyn ferry to East- 
hampton. The Kings County Commissioners 
set promptly about their task, and they laid out 
the road which is now a part of Ftilton Street, 
beginning at ''low water marke at the ferry." 
They followed the old path, and so on to New 
Lots. When this road was completed it con- 
stituted the King's Highway, which was the first 

•*To Be Forever" 6l 

of the famous highways of Long Island. A 
portion of it still retains the old name — ^we have 
come across it at the Flatlands church to-day. 
As the order then went forth, it was to be laid 
out with a uniform width of four rods, and was 
''to be and continue forever.*' 



DETURNING from the roads which lead us 
* ^ out into Long Island, we are once more 
within the city of Brooklyn. Dutch and Quaker 
days and ways have been recalled; Brooklyn, 
with its most vivid bit of history, brings us into 
the period of the Revolution. There is little left 
to-day to mark the old sites made famous dur- 
ing Putnam's defense of Brooklyn Heights; we 
can, however, retrace the footsteps of the 
Americans in a general direction if not exactly. 
Some of the modern streets coincide with the 
old ones; and at least the battlegrounds are 
to be seen, even though the relics of the 
encounters have vanished forever. 

In the heart of Brooklyn's busiest district, 
hundreds and hundreds of people come and go 
and pass every day in the year, and never notice 
a simple bronze tablet which clamps the corner 
of a square-shouldered business btdlding at 
the intersection of Fulton Street and Flatbush 

Avenue. The tablet is small and unobtrusive, 


'Wallabovjit to Go"wan\xs 63 

and people who pass are thinking about a real- 
estate deal, or an exploded tire, or the new 
styles in millinery. It bears a brief inscription — 
merely four names, set down for what they are 
worth, without comment: 

' ' Washington. Putnam. Sullivan. Stirling. ' ' 

And beneath these, a small relief of a battle 
scene, and the words: ''Line of Defense. Battle 
of Long Island. August 27 ^ 1776. From the 
Wallabout to the Gowanus. '' 

It is telegraphic in its brevity, contrasted with 
the elaborate eulogies of the usual battle monu- 
ment or tablet. But ' ' from the Wallabout to the 
Gowanus*' tells Brooklyn's greatest story. To- 
day the Wallabout is merely that bay at the 
crook of the East River, where the Navy Yard 
fronts the water; and the Gowanus, that inden- 
tation in our Upper Bay overlooked by Green- 
wood Cemetery and the busy blocks which lie 
just below its heights. If you will look on the 
map, you will see that an incurving line drawn 
between these will take in the heights of Fort 
Greene Park, Prospect Park, and the Cemetery; 
here, then, you have a sketchy map of the great 
battle which was the first avowed battle fought 
in our nation's war for independence. 

In an afternoon's stroll over these vicinities 
you can to-day re-fight that battle in your mem- 
ory. You will, at times, follow old roads, walk 
in old footsteps, overlook old prospects. On a 

64 East-ward 

slope which invites loafing, which tempts babies 
to roll, you may hear the clank of military metal. 
On the heights associated with the contest, one is 
reminded of the remark of a certain real-estate 
dealer — that ''armies always did have a leaning 
toward fine building sites.'' 

Fort Greene Park, the height which the city 
long ago took over to be a green spot and pleas- 
ure ground for the people, lies between Myrtle 
and De Kalb avenues, and offers a refreshing 
glimpse of grass and trees in down-town Brook- 
lyn. Call to mind the position of the American 
and British forces 139 years ago. 

Washington had driven the British from 
Boston and had brought his army down to New 
York in the spring of that year — 1776. Perhaps 
the American forces had not had as much to do 
with the British evacuation, however, as had 
strategic motives on the enemy's part. The 
British intended to make New York the center 
of their operations; they had regarded the cam- 
paign around Boston as a preliminary, and the 
real opening of the war was to take place around 
New York. In June of 1776 the signs of British 
occupation were shown. 

General Howe proceeded to set forth his array 
in New York Harbor. Seven weeks after the 
beginning of this move he had more than four 
hundred vessels and thirty thousand troops 
there, the troops being encamped on Staten 

ScytHe and Pole 65 

Island. To meet this array, Washington cotdd 
not call together twenty thousand eflfective men. 
Some of these, opposing all the completeness 
of British training and equipment, marched as 
they would walk behind the plow, and wielded, 
by way of weapon, a straightened scythe fastened 
to a pole. 

Howe, having studied the situation and forti- 
fications of the Americans, decided that his best 
move would be not to attack the center and 
right of the Americans, which included Gover- 
nor's Island, the Battery, and the Hudson 
River defenses; although he believed his troops 
capable of making this attack victoriously, it 
offered the Americans too good an opportunity 
to retreat farther north along the island of 
Manhattan, and escape by way of Ejfngsbridge. 
The results would be better if he could outflank 
our army. The American left wing was stationed 
on Long Island, and Howe saw his opportunity 
to overcome the defenses on Brooklyn Heights 
and along the shore, to proceed up the East 
River, and to cut off the chance of retreat to the 

When Washington had come to New York 
from Boston, he had spent the ensuing months 
in preparing for this British attack. Several 
points were strongly fortified, among them 
Brooklyn Heights. It offered a most favorable 
position, overlooking the entrance to the city of 

66 East-ward 

New York, and there Washington had defenses 
built, there he placed General Greene with a 
large body of troops. But much sickness pre- 
vailed that summer, and in the middle of August 
Greene succumbed to an attack of bilious f ever^ 
and Sullivan was put in his place. Meanwhile 
General Putnam was arranging, by chevaux-de- 
frise, to stop the British vessels which might 
aim to enter and pass up the East River. 

The design of the British was clearly worked 
out. It was on the twenty-second of August 
that definite activities began, when Howe landed 
twenty thousand men at Gravesend Bay, and 
from this spot set out to reach Brooklyn Heights. 
Four roads led thither: on the left, the Gowanus 
road which skirted the shore; on the right, the 
Jamaica road, curving inland; between these, 
two roads which crossed the wooded hills 
intervening and passed through the villages of 
Bedford and Flatbush. 

Fort Greene Park, as it is known to-day, was a 
most vital point in the American defense. It 
was exposed to the enemy, and at the same 
time it gave the Americans their hold upon 
New York. It meant to New York what Bunker 
Hill and Dorchester Heights meant to Boston — 
namely, the command of the situation. About 
half the American army was therefore concen- 
trated there — ^some nine thousand men. Because 
of the tremendous responsibility of the position, 







^ !?J 




Fort Pxitnam 67 

Putnam was placed in supreme command, 
Sullivan still remaining. 

The place, known as Fort Putnam before it was 
Fort Greene Park, is described by Lossing as a 
wooded hill near the Wallabout; a redoubt 
with five guns ; when the trees were felled it com- 
manded the East River as well as the roads 
approaching Brooklyn from the interior. Stand- 
ing on its highest point to-day you can realize 
its value for a fortification. 

The entrenchments which ran from Fort 
Putnam are difficult to trace in this century, 
owing to the over-riding growth of the city which 
has sprung up about them. It is known that 
one ran in a northwesterly direction down 
the hill toward a spring on the verge of the 
Wallabout. Another ran toward Freek's mill- 
pond, at the head of Gowanus Creek. There 
were various redoubts here and there; at the 
corner of Clinton and Atlantic streets, the site 
of the Athenaeum of a later day, stood ''Cobble 
Hill, '' an old fort. Three cannon were here; as 
the entrenchment made a spiral from top to 
bottom of the hill, it was called ''Corkscrew 
Fort/' The finding of arrowheads and buttons 
marked "42" (belonging to the 42d High- 
landers), some half -century ago, recalled the 
position of Box Fort, near the termination 
of Hoyt Street at Carroll. Thus a fair sketch 
of the American position has been worked 

68 East-ward 

out; but many links in the chain have been 

For fotir days of that eventful August, Howe 
reconnoitered. The upshot was that he deter- 
mined to approach Brooklyn Heights by all of 
the four roads, he himself choosing to take the 
Jamaica road which offered a roundabout eastern 
approach. On this journey he made his quarters 
in a building then known as Howard's Half -Way 
House, an old inn on the Jamaica road. 

Washington's hour for swift and drastic 
measures had come. Having first sent rein- 
forcements to Sullivan at Brooklyn, he had 
followed up this act by sending General Putnam 
to take charge of the entire affair. Putnam was 
a veteran at the time; he was in his fifty-ninth 
year and was mature in both life and war, 
equipped for the most important position which 
the situation of the Americans offered. 

On the morning of August 24th, immediately 
upon receiving his appointment, Putnam cros- 
sed to Brooklyn. He had heard the sounds 
of the first skirmishing on Long Island, and he 
was chafing to be in the thick of it all. Although 
nearly sixty, his eagerness for action was as 
keen as that of a boy. His own enthusiasm 
had always fired the men under him, from the 
days of his Indian fighting; and now, as he 
arrived at Brooklyn Heights, loud and long 
cheering greeted the appearance of ''Old Put." 

Putnam's Inspection 69 

Immediately a sense of confidence spread 
throughout the American forces and their 

Putnam, with Burr, his aide-de-camp, set out 
at once to inspect the chain of defenses which had 
been put up during the summer. He had the 
situation clearly in mind now, and he was 
impatient for the battle to begin. Washington 
sent more troops across on the night of the 26th; 
those behind the Brooklyn works were under 
Putnam's personal command. 

Howe now advanced, while Putnam pre- 
pared to meet the attack. By way of Bedford 
and Flatbush, through dense woods. General 
von Heister led the Hessians; these roads were 
defended by Sullivan. The Highland Regiments 
under General Grant followed the road along 
the shore; Stirling was ready for them. Howe 
himself, in his night march by way of the 
Jamaica road, was accompanied by Cornwallis, 
Clinton, and Percy, and aided by many British 
sympathizers along the route. 

It was impossible to send enough men to meet 
Howe; so great was the British majority, that 
any force which the Americans might have sent 
wovild have been powerless. A patrol watched 
the Jamaica road, but it was captured at day- 
break, and Bedford was gained by the British. 

Sullivan was now bravely fighting against the 
advance of von Heister and his Hessians. But 

70 Easti^ard 

Stillivan's position was between two fires. In 
spite of his efforts, Cornwallis found opportunity 
to attack him in the rear. The Americans were 
taken prisoners or driven to flee. 

Stirling was being confronted by Grant with 
his five thousand men, three thousand more than 
Stirlinghad ; nevertheless the brave American gen- 
eral formed a battle line all the way from Gowanus 
Bay over Battle Hill in Greenwood Cemetery. 

Before going on to the other scenes of the 
conflict, you can take a look aside at the shaft 
rising before you, on the summit of Fort Greene 
Hill. It is the prison soldiers' monument, or 
Martyrs' Tomb, relating the last and saddest 
chapter of this battle story. Here were brought 
the bodies of those victims of the prison ship 
Jersey, who suffered such tortures after their 
capture by the British. The monument is 
flanked by cannon, and its height of 125 feet is 
stirmotmted by a bronze turn twenty feet high. 
The contributions which erected it came from 
city, state, United States Government, and the 
Prison Ship Martyrs' Association. 

Your next step in tracing the battle story lies 
toward Prospect Park. You enter under the 
Soldiers' and Sailors' arch — ^a memorial dedicated 
to the defenders of our Union who fought from 
1861 to 1865, and standing only a short distance 
from the spot where our soldiers of almost a 
century earlier defended our nation. 

Maryland's Fovir Hundred 71 

If you will ttirnjnto the Eastern Drive after 
entering the Park, follow it past the children's 
playground, and look sharply to your left after 
passing the playground, you will suddenly dis- 
cover a gray bowlder retired among the trees near 
the Drive. Its tablet bears this inscription: 

''Line of Defense. August 2"], 1776. Battle 
of Long Island. 175 feet south. Site of Valley 
Grove House, 150 feet north.'' 

This tells its own story. You are approach- 
ing the thick of the fray. 

Now follow on along the Eastern Drive until 
it bends into the Central Drive, pass the lake, 
and find your way to Lookout Hill. This land 
which is now one of the finest parks in the 
United States, a triumph of landscape garden- 
ing, and thronged with merry-making crowds, 
was once trampled by throngs of soldiers, 
drenched with blood, and given over to the 
horrors of battle. 

Climb the slope of Lookout Hill and picture 
the prospect as it was on that August day when 
the gallant Marylanders fought here. A simple 
shaft rises, in their memory; on the one side you 
may read: '*In honor of Maryland's Four 
Hundred, who on this Battle Field, August 27, 
1776, saved the American army." And on the 
other side, George Washington's words quoted: 
''Good God! What brave feUows I must this 
day lose!" 

72 East^ward 

Von Heister with his Hessians had overcome 
Sullivan in short order, with the assistance of the 
forces which had closed in from behind. Stirling 
and Grant, meeting on the shore road, had 
fought the first fight in which Americans had 
ever met British troops in the open field and in 
regtilar line of battle. Stirling had fought magni- 
ficently but he too was assaulted in the rear; his 
one effort now was to save his command from 

With the remnant of the Maryland men he 
formed a line and made one of the most terrific 
fights in the annals of the Revolution, '"he 
Maryland men were famous throughout the war 
for their personal gallantry, the battle at Eutaw 
Springs being one of their great feats, in which 
they drove Britain's finest infantry at the point 
of the bayonet. In this Long Island battle 
Stirling himself was captured, but to the Mary- 
land regiment was due the fact that the retreat 
of hundreds of Americans was made possible. 
It was a frightful retreat — a mere fleeing mob, 
officers mingled with privates, no formation 
left, but still the vestige of an American division 
to be received at Putnam's headquarters on the 

Going on to Greenwood Cemetery, you come 
to another historic spot. Entering at the gate 
where the cemetery offices stand, passing these 
buildings and following the path's curve to the 

" Dont Fire, Boys " 73 

right, you come into. sight of the bay. Turn with 
the gravel road; pass the Civil War monument 
which was dedicated by the city of New York to 
the 148,000 soldiers enlisted by this city for that 
war; just beyond it you come to Fern Avenue, 
and at the intersection of this path with Green- 
bank Path lies Battle Hill. Near this did 
Stirling take his position. 

During the time that the fierce fighting was 
going on, Putnam and his men were watching 
some of it from the Brooklyn works. They 
could see the Americans approaching the works, 
driven by the British, who, it appeared, were 
undertaking to make an assault upon the forti- 
fications. Putnam was ready for this event. 
He passed to and fro among the men who waited 
behind the defenses, issuing quick orders, draw- 
ing their resistance taut along with his own. A 
story has been told of him at this time, reported 
to one Carson Brevoort by a man named Remsen 
who was present at the defenses. It is recorded 
in the Memoirs of the Long Island Historical 

"A few paces in the rear of the firing parties 
General Putnam was constantly stalking back 
and forth, at every return enforcing anew his 
favorite command, which Bunker Hill had made 
so famous: 'Don't fire, boys, until you can see 
the whites of their eyes.' The eminent success 
of this injunction in that battle had given it 

74 Easti^ard 

an importance in the mind of the old In- 
dian fighter which qiiite justified its frequent 
repetition. . . • 

''A soldier of one of the Connecticut regiments 
was crouching behind the breastwork and was 
busily employed in loading his own and his com- 
rade's gun, which were fired, however, only by the 
latter, a Maryland soldier, who was kneeling to 
rest his piece upon the parapet and with deliber- 
ate aim picking off the enemy's troops. This 
partnership of courage and poltroonery ... at 
length arrested the attention of the promenad- 
ing General. The angry blood, which fired so 
readily at the call of his hot temper, flamed in an 
instant on his countenance, and with a few quick 
strides he reached the side of the couchant hero 
who remained unconscious of the proximity of 
his angry General. The flat side of his sword 
fell with stinging force on the back of the culprit 
as he exclaimed, 'Get up, you damned coward, 
and fire your own gun. ' '' 

In spite of Putnam's indomitable spirit in the 
face of overwhelming odds, the American forces 
were powerless against an enemy so great in 
ntmibers, so complete in training and equipment. 
As many historians have commented, the wonder 
is, not that the Americans were forced to give 
up, but that they gave Howe a whole day of the 
hardest fighting, and caused him heavy losses, 
in defeating them. Moreover, the delay gave 







Martyrs^ Monument, Fort Greene Park, 

"^w-'V *"'»♦ 


The Place of Worship from which Chapel Hill Took its Name, 

Americans Secretly Cross River 75 

Washington time to plan his remarkable 

Howe did not undertake to carry the Brooklyn 
works by storm. But, having driven the 
Americans back to where Putnam gallantly held 
his shattered forces together, he watched. 
Apparently no move lay open to the Americans. 
But Washington, hastening across the river 
from Manhattan, assembled at the Brooklyn 
ferry all the boats obtainable, and, under cover 
of the foggy night, removed his vanquished 
army to the other side of the river, while the 
British, officers and men, slept undisturbed. 

How the thing was accomplished without 
rousing the victors has always remained inexpli- 
cable. Washington himself superintended the 
embarkation; Fiske says, he *' collected every 
sloop, yacht, fishing-smack, yawl, scow, or row- 
boat that could be found in either water from 
the Battery to Kingsbridge or Hell Gate; and 
after nightfall of the 29th, these craft were all 
assembled at the Brooklyn ferry, and wisely 
manned by the fishermen of Marblehead and 
Gloucester from Glover's Essex Regiment, ex- 
perts, every one of them, whether at oar or 

Washington did not leave the ground until 
every one of his men was off. Seven in the 
morning saw not only every American landed 
on the New York side, but cannon and small 

76 Easti^ard 

arms as well, tools, horses, ammunition, and 
larder. Fiske concludes, ''When the bewildered 
British climbed into the empty works they did 
not find so much as a biscuit or a glass of rtim 
wherewith to console themselves. " 

If you will cross Brooklyn to the Navy Yard, 
you can follow in imagination the sorry fate of 
our men confined in British prison ships. Here, 
looking out over Wallabout Bay, you recall the 
horrors of the old hulks which the British moored 
here, and kept as floating prisons, the Jersey 
being the most famous of these. She was called 
by her prisoners ''the hell afloat." This vessel 
served as prison ship till the end of the war; it was 
a hotbed of filth and disease, men were left in 
rags, crowded beyond all conception of crowding, 
poisoned by spoiled food, and tortured with 
countless cruelties. 

Until the year 1873 the bones of these 
martyred prisoners lay in a vault just outside 
the Navy Yard. Then they were removed to 
Fort Greene Park. The Martyrs' Tomb in that 
park contains the remains of eleven thousand 
American heroes. 

t^ntil the end of the Revolution, Brooklyn 
remained in the hands of the Britisji) Washing- 
ton, having removed his army to New York, now 
stationed the most of it along the Harlem River, 
Putnam being placed in command of a strong 
detachment in the city. 





T ONG before stimmer-resorters disported 
^ themselves in parti-colored bathing suits, 
before processions of gay parasols paraded along 
board-walks, before husbands pined in Man- 
hattan's August solitude, the same stately 
highlands rose above the gleaming sand of the 
New Jersey shore. The same lean peninsula 
of Sandy Hook crooked its finger out into the 
same Atlantic Ocean, and the Navesink River 
opened its wide mouth as now, near the Horse- 
shoe of Sandy Hook Bay. Although we of to- 
day associate this country with the bathing 
suits and the parasols of lively beaches, its 
earlier chapters are a different sort of tale. 
Here lay country that Washington knew well, 
and Clinton too — country that figured in the 
stirring tales of the Revolution. And here the 
Pine Robbers, the terror of Monmouth County, 
burrowed their caves in the sand-hills. 

You will recall the suggestions quoted in 
Chapter I from a guide-book of more than a 


8o SouitH-ward 

centiiry ago — ^for a ''convenient number" of 
gentlemen to charter a boat of their own to visit 
''Sandy Hook and the Sea-Bass Banks.'' To- 
day it is not necessary to charter a boat, nor to 
leave the ladies behind on account of hardships. 
The regular line of steamboats sailing from Man- 
hattan to the Atlantic Highlands will carry all 
travelers, and afford them a sketchy view of the 
Upper Bay, the Narrows, the Lower Bay, and 
finally Sandy Hook Bay. 

Setting sail from North River you pass out 
into New York Bay, with its three historic 
islands in sight: Ellis, Governor's, and Bedloe's. 

The first of these was the Gibbet Island, on 
which, we have already heard, the pirate Gibbs 
was hung.^ It took its name from that distin- 
guished person, and for a long time was known 
thus. Previous to this it had been called Oyster 
Island, by the Dutch who enjoyed feasts of the 
bivalve on its shores. In 1808 the National 
Government bought it from the State, placed a 
magazine there, and in 1891 turned it into an 
immigrant station. It is now used for this pur- 
pose, and can be visited by any one who obtains 
a pass from the Commissioner of Immigration. 

Governor's Island is one of our most interest- 
ing national defenses. The Indians used to call 
this spot of land "Pagganck, " and the Dutch 
who followed them named it Nut Island. Wouter 

» Chapter IV. 

Two •* Oyster Islands*' 8i 

Van Twiller bought it from the Indians in 1637 
and made himself a home thereon, establishing a 
saw-mill. About the end of the same century, 
the Assembly set it aside for the benefit of the 
royal governors, and its present name was given 
the island. 

There were fortifications there in the time of 
the Revolution, held by the Americans until 
their defeat on Long Island, after which the 
British took Governor's Island. The old well 
belonging to the early works is still to be seen on 
the east side, but other relics have disappeared. 
In 1794 the beginning of the present works was 
made. Military prisoners were confined here 
during the Civil War. 

Bedloe's Island, like Ellis, also bore the name 
of Oyster Island in early days. Isaac Bedloe 
obtained this land by patent from Governor 
NicoU, and held it until his death, when it 
passed into the hands of Captain Kennedy. It 
came into the possession of the United States 
Government at the beginning of the last century. 
Fort Wood was built upon it, and in 1883 the 
Statue of Liberty was erected. France presen- 
ted the giant bronze, Bartholdi being chosen as 

Through the Narrows you pass out between 
Forts Hamilton and Wadsworth into the Lower 
Bay. Together they frown formidably upon 
any unwelcome entrance to our harbor. Fort 

82 SoxitK-ward 

Hamilton was named for Colonel Archibald 
Hamilton who was a well-known commander of 
British forces. At this point Stonewall Jackson 
and General Robert E. Lee were stationed 
before the Civil War drew them into active ser- 
vice. The site of the old Simon Cortelyou house 
is within the limits of the fort, a building which 
once served as Howe's headquarters. 

Cortelyou was disliked by Americans, being 
a hot Tory, and a most cruel one in his treatment 
of American prisoners. 

Beyond, on the left, lies Gravesend Bay, that 
curve of water which Coney Island forms with 
the line of the mainland of Long Island. Here 
you catch glimmers of Revolutionary history; it 
was on this shore that Howe landed his troops, 
to lead them to the Battle of Long Island. 
In this bay were kept the British prison ships, 
cattle transports used for the confinement of 
prisoners taken in battle, and many Americans 
were carried to them after the Brooklyn defeat. 
Later, when the British took possession of New 
York, they were removed to various prisons in 
the city. 

Coney Island gets its present name from the 
Dutch, Conynge Hook. Guyspert Op Dyck 
obtained this curiously shaped strip of land by 
grant from Governor Kieft. In later years it 
was divided into lots; Thomas Stilwell bought 
the entire strip in 1734. Almost a century later 

Old Road from Middletown 83 

the first hotel was btdlt there,, showing that its 
value as a resort had been discovered; by the 
middle of the Nineteenth Century it had entered 
upon its famous career as an amusement center. 

Entering Sandy Hook Bay, you pass the long 
Hook itself, with its famous lighthouse near the 

And now your journey bears toward the land 
— ^into New Jersey. You are to find an old 
road, clearly defined on maps a century old, 
rimning from the Navesink Highlands back 

One such map shows the road running in a 
westerly direction toward Middletown and 
dotted by a few farms, marked ''S. Taylor," **E. 
Taylor,'' and ''D. Conover.*' These names, 
and some of the homes of that period, are to be 
found to-day along the old road. In fact, there 
lies on this highway a hamlet of thirteen houses 
which is almost intact, the whole hamlet practi- 
cally as it was in Revolutionary days. Such 
a discovery is rare in our hurrying America. 
Two or three of the dwellings are called by the 
townspeople "new''; we were told modestly by 
one resident that her home ''wasn't old at all. 
Why, it was only built for grandmother to 
come to when she was a bride," the young 
matron said deprecatingly, her own offspring 
playing in the yard while she discussed the 
matter. But for a house which has known 

84 SoutH-ward 

four generations to be counted "new" in any 
commtinity of the United States speaks well 
for that community's love of tradition. 

This part of New Jersey throbbed in Revolu- 
tionary days; not many miles away was fought 
the Battle of Monmouth, and hereabouts soldiers 
marched and tarried. The journeyer of to-day 
who seeks the old road must allow a long day for 
the water-and-land trip, and avail himself of a 
lunch wherever it offers, for old Cornelius 
Mount's inn has passed into a memory these 
many years, and no longer are his genial smile 
and his brimming mug awaiting the wayfarer. 

From the boat-landing at Atlantic Highlands, 
the next step in the jaunt is to Leonardo. 
Where the trolley line is intersected by the 
road to Chapel Hill stands a fine old white house 
of colonial period surrounded by broad grounds. 
This house has been in the Leonard family 
for many generations. James and Henry were 
the pioneers of the family in this region, coming 
from Massachusetts where they had settled in 
1642. They had built ironworks in New Eng- 
land, and they came to Monmouth County 
in New Jersey to build ironworks for James 
Grover. Evidently they were a progressive 
family, for we hear of '*Ye Leonard's Mill in 
Middletown, '' being a successf til saw-mill there. 
So prominent did they become that the town 
Leonardo was named for them. The house, 



The Village Smithy Containing the Ancient Anvil, at Chapel Hill. 

The Old Leonard House at Leonardo. 

A Quaint Hamlet 85 

nucleus of all the village around, .is preserved 
almost in its original form, and the fine old raft- 
ers and fireplaces are to be seen to-day by the 
visitor who enters the colonial doorway. 

The Chapel Hill road" which runs from this 
house back to the old road, leading for perhaps 
a mile up the hill, is a most picturesque way for 
the pedestrian. For a stretch it passes through 
unbroken woodland, again fertile farms spread 
beyond it; here, in a wild blackberry patch, 
a group of freckled, pigtailed little girls are 
staining fingers and lips. Birds chant a chorus, 
and the gorgeous butterfly-weed blazes among 
many equally lovely wild flowers. 

Climbing steadily through all this varied mid- 
summer beauty, you see no goal beyond the 
road's windings. You are beginning to draw the 
conclusion that Chapel Hill, the hamlet which 
you were told would mark the old Middletown 
road, is a myth. Just ahead you see a low gray 
roof, but it apparently is merely another isolated 
farmhouse along the winding road — which 
winds once again; suddenly the roof is sur- 
rounded by others, and you find yourself con- 
fronted by a hamlet on this lonely height — ^the 
vision of it is as sudden, as unexpected as if it 
had been waved into being by a wand. Here, 
between the little white houses which face each 
other in gossipy intimacy, runs the ancient road 
you are seeking. 

86 SovitH'ward 

Chapel Hill, although it played no leadixig r61e 
in otir nation's history, is perhaps the quaintest 
spot within thirty miles of New York. ''From 
Bill's to Hosford's" it extends, this curious, 
changeless village of thirteen houses. Around it 
lie towns of far greater importance both in the 
present and past: Keyport, Port Monmouth, 
Middletown, Red Bank, Shrewsbury; but the 
visitor to Chapel Hill will call the trip worth 
while as presenting a picture remarkably unique; 
calling up not historic events, but historic times. 
It is as if one came suddenly upon a typical 
American village of Revolutionary times which 
had been in some magic way embalmed, pre- 
served with all its remoteness and withdrawal 
from the progressing world. The inn, the ' ' store ' ' 
the village blacksmith shop, still gather with the 
villagers' homes along the street. Nobody ever 
goes to it (the motorist speeds by, but doesn't 
know its name), it is on hardly any map, it draws 
itself within itself here on the Jersey heights. 
The houses are associated with such names as 
Mount, Conover, Taylor, Hopping, and others, 
all familiar in the Revolutionary period of 
Monmouth County. 

Cornelius Mount's inn stands to-day used as 
the home of one of his lineal descendants, Mrs. 
Patterson. The old fireplace around which the 
genial Mount's patrons once gathered is in the 
living-room, and a portrait of the well-known 

A Dixel Challenge 87 

Hopping, another member of the iamily, hangs 
opposite. This was the only public inn of all 
the region except at Middletown, and great was 
the gayety it witnessed. Edwin Salter, in his 
History of Monmouth and Ocean Counties, gives 
a characteristic entry from an inn book of that 
period in New Jersey, and Mr. Mount's entries 
were doubtless very similar. 

1 767. DOLLE Y HaGEMAN. Dy. 

Jan. 2. To I mug of Cider & yi Dram 6 

To I mug of Beer . 6 

To }i Dram 2 

To 2 Mugs of Beer i 

Apr. 8. To I Dram 4 

To yi Dram 2 


Thus did the frequenters of all such inns 
regale themselves in those days. But not even 
in those days could every inn boast a duel 
challenge — and such a challenge! It stands to- 
day in the annals of the old Mount house that 
one temperamental gentleman, probably some- 
what the worse and the wittier for his drams, 
thus declared himself to his adversary: 

I will meet you at Chapel Hill, 
At Sam Cooper's Still, 
Or Loofburrow's Mill, 
In case you will. 

John Loofburrow had a mill on Maclise Creek 

88 SoxitH-ward 

in 1684, and for many years this creek was 
navigable for sloops and schooners within a 
half-mile of it. 

Three of the Taylors lived near by and were 
famous Tories. One of the largest houses in 
Chapel Hill belongs to the family. 

Near the western end of the village street the 
village smithy stands. The smith is not exactly 
a mighty man in appearance, but he is a very 
quaint figure, white-haired, lean, and alert. For 
thirty-eight years D. H. Irwin has toiled at that 
old forge in the little shop which was old when 
he fell heir to it. The anvil used by one of the 
original Mounts is standing beside the one in 
present use, and dates so far back that ''the Mr. 
Mount who lately died at more than threescore- 
and-ten told me that it was old when he was a 
boy and his father was using it!'' Miss Matilda 
Hall informed us. 

Miss Hall will lead you down the street into 
her own house, and down cellar to a mysterious 
corner where lurk tomato pickles and spiced 
currants and all the delightful things that people 
don't put up nowadays; and there she will point 
out the deep fireplace with its old Holland bricks, 
brought over when there were no other bricks 
convenient to Monmouth County; and will tell 
you that in this warm corner the original dwellers 
in the house hid from Indian assaults, shooting 
up through the cellar window. 

The Old CKapel 89 

Still another tradition clings to this house. It 
is said that here, during the Civil War, dwelt one 
Glentworth, a stout Secessionist who used to 
buy up ammunition for Jeff Davis. In the 
midst of the loyal Unionists who filled this region, 
he hung out his Southern flag, much to the 
indignation of all who saw it. Soon there came 
news of a raid plotted at Navesink — a mob to 
come up the old road and make short work of 
dealing with the Secessionist. Their plans were 
carefully laid, and the raiders set out for Chapel 
Hill, their appetite lusty for the encounter. But 
upon arriving at the summit, all they saw was an 
innocent Union flag peacefully fluttering from 
the window. Mr. Glentworth had been ap- 
prised of the mob's intentions, and his loyalty 
appeared less valuable to him than his neck. 

The chapel from which this village acquired 
its name shows the only sign of modern changes 
in the group of buildings. It has been turned 
into a stable and garage, which event marks the 
final chapter of the little church's history. For 
many years the place had been known as ''High 
Point,'* until about 1800, when this Baptist 
meeting-house was erected, and the name 
"Chapel Hill" was given. The church was 
organized as the ''Independent Baptist Society 
and Congregation at High Point, Middletown. " 
In 1829 a Methodist society bought it, later it 
was sold to Deacon Andrew Brown of Middle- 

go So\jtKi?vard 

town, and, as the flicker of life gradually faded 
from the little village on the hill, it resigned 
itself to the past. 

From Middletown to Water Witch the old 
road stretches, a motor road of much poptilarity 
to-day. Starting along it in the direction of 
the coast, you can visit, by means of a short 
detour, the Chapel Hill Lighthouse, one of the 
range lights established by an Act of Congress 
in 1852. It is 224 feet above the sea and has 
a second order lens. This light and Conover 
Beacon on the beach below are the range lights 
for the old ship channel, for outward-bound 
vessels. The two are almost two miles apart. 
The view from the tower of this light commands 
the long strip of Sandy Hook, the bay, the ocean 
beyond, even Manhattan and Brooklyn, as well 
as miles of the New Jersey shore. 

The present keeper, Mr. Wright, sets the light 
shining forth every evening; as it falls, its first 
ray strikes a certain grave in the old cemetery 
below. This is the grave of Captain George 
Porter, former keeper of the light, who for years 
tended it in the same tower. Porter had been in 
the Battle of Mobile Bay under Farragut, and 
was the only signal boy in the Navy. 

As you return and follow the road which leads 
toward the Navesink Highlands, you find the 
stories of the Battle of Monmouth recurring 
to your mind. From some of the Chapel Hill 

TKe Pine Robbers 91 

houses, so runs the tradition, mugs of ale and 
bread and meat were passed out to the red- 
coats by the Tories who dwelt in this village 
side by side with Whigs, when marches led the 
soldiers to this road. When the battle was over, 
Sir Henry Clinton, after remaining a few days 
on the high grounds of Middletown, led his army 
in this direction and passed them over from 
Sandy Hook to New York. 

In his official dispatch to Lord Germain he 
wrote: ''Having reposed the troops until ten at 
night to avoid the excessive heat of the day, 
I took advantage of the moonlight to rejoin 
General Knyphausen"; which report caused 
much unholy glee among patriots, as the moon 
was new at the time. 

It is said that Monmouth suffered more 
than any other Jersey county during the Revolu- 
tion, not only from outrages committed by the 
British army, but from the depredations of the 
organized outcasts known as Pine Robbers. 
They pretended to be Tories, but they robbed 
Tories and Whigs with equal facility. Their^ 
btirrowed caves in the sand hereabouts con- 
cealed them, also the pine woods, and thence 
they sallied forth to plunder and murder. 

One Fenton was the arch-fiend among them — 
a former blacksmith of Freehold. When the 
vigilance committee warned him that, if he did 
not return his plunder, he would be shot, he sent 

92 SovitHijvarcl 

back the clothing he had taken from a tailor's 
shop, but added in a note, '* I have rettirned your 
damned rags. In a short time I am coming to 
burn your barns and houses, and roast you all 
like a pack of kittens!" At the head of a gang 
he attempted to do this, but was shot by a 

The Refugees had a strongly fortified settle- 
ment at Sandy Hook known as ''Refugees' 
Town." British war vessels were always in 
the vicinity, cannon defended its lighthouse, and 
raids were made. Captain Joseph Covenhoven 
was one of their prisoners. 

It was near the Highlands that Captain 
Joshua Huddy was cruelly hung in 1782. ''The 
Hero of Tom's River, " of the artillery regiment, 
was taken while commanding a blockhouse 
situated near the bridge at the village of Tom's 
River. Lossing gives the following account of 
the ardent Whig's tragedy: 

"It [the blockhouse] was attacked by some 
refugees from New York, and his ammunition 
giving out, Huddy was obUged to surrender. 
Himself and companions were taken to New 
York, and afterward back to Sandy Hook 
and placed, heavily ironed, on board a guard- 
ship. On the 1 2th of April, sixteen refugees, 
under Captain Lippincott, took Huddy to 
Gravelly Point, on the shore at the foot of the 
Navesink Hills, near the lighthouses, and hung 

DeatK of Captain Huddx 93 

him upon a gallows made of three rails. He 
met his fate with compostire. Upon the barrel 
on which he stood for execution, he wrote his 
will with an unfaltering hand. His murderers 
falsely charged him with being concerned in the 
death of a desperate Tory, named Philip White, 
which occurred while Huddy was a prisoner in 
New York. To the breast of Huddy, the in- 
famous Lippincott affixed the following label: 
'We, the refugees, having long with grief beheld 
the cruel murders of our brethren, and finding 
nothing but such measures daily carrying into 
execution; we therefore determine not to stiff er, 
without taking vengeance for the numerous 
cruelties; and thus begin, having made use of 
Captain Huddy as the first object to present to 
yotir view; and further determine to hang man 
for man, while there is a refugee existing. 

'up goes huddy for PHILIP WHITE ! ' 

*' Huddy 's body was carried to Freehold, and 
buLfied with the honors of war." 

The country was aroused with indignation 
over this murder, as it was declared to be. 
Washington wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, stating 
that the murderers of Huddy must be given up, 
or he should take retaliation measures. Upon 
Clinton's refusal to comply, it was determined, 
by lot, that young Captain Asgill, a British 
officer, shotild be executed. But the color of 

94 SoxitHivard 

affairs changed; it was found, in a court-martial 
of Lippincott, that he had received from the 
president of the Board of Associated Loyalists, 
orders to hang Huddy and he was acquitted. 
Sir Guy Carleton, having succeeded Clinton, 
wrote to Washington reprobating the death of 
Huddy and stating that he had brought this 
Board to an end. Young Asgill's mother, and 
the French minister, had meantime written to 
Washington interceding for the young officer, 
and he was finally set free. Lossing adds, ''In 
a humorous poem, entitled Rivington's ReflectionSy 
Philip Preneau thus alludes to the case of Asgill. 
He makes Rivington (the Tory printer in New 
York) say, 

* I'll petition the rebels (if York is forsaken) 
For a place in their Zion which ne'er shall be shaken. 
I am sure they'll be clever; it seems their whole study ; 
They hung not young Asgill for old Captain Huddy ; 
And it must be a truth that admits no denying — 
If they spare us for murder, they'll spare us for lying.' " 

The point known as Water Witch was named 
from Cooper's novel, traditions of which fill this 
locality. It is said that he lived in a cottage here 
while writing the book. 

A tradition of Atlantic Highlands is connected 
with a spring, from which it is supposed that 
Hendrick Hudson supplied the Half-Moon 
with fresh water before she entered the Hudson 
River in 1609. 

Chapel Hill Lighthouse^ Government Range Light, 224 Feet above the Sea, Commanding 

One of the most Remarkable Views of New York Harbor. 

From a photograph by George Wright. 

The Old Vanderbilt House, where the Commodore Spent his Boyhood. 

The Village Blacksmith at Chapel Hill 

Photograph by A. R. Coleman. 

Birds and Plants 95 

The nature-lover will find much of interest in 
the vicinity of the Highlands. Both plant- and 
bird-life are here to be studied in great variety. 
Many fish-hawks' nests are built in the dead 
tree-tops a little way back from the shore, and 
we surprised one pair with the camera; the 
mother bird's head being thrust up from the 
nest toward her arrogant mate, perched above. 



CTAATEN EYLAND, as Hendrick Hudson 
^ named it, had early communication with- 
Manhattan Island, as well as with New Jersey. 
Ferries developed at many points, and, as time 
went on, roads led from their landings back into 
Staten Island, thus affording many opportunities 
to the journeyer from old New York. 

The large island was called by the Indians 
''High Sandy Banks'' and ''The Place of Bad 
Woods,'' among many names. The Walloons 
had first settled in 1624; there had followed 
many hardships and difficulties, the Indians 
causing much trouble; the Walloons had removed 
to Long Island, and after this the dwelling houses 
which new settlers erected were near the Nar- 
rows, from this vicinity back to Old Town. In 
1 66 1 the Waldenses came to the island, later 
the Huguenots, and the settlements of Old Town 
and Fresh EdUs grew. Before they arrived, the 
only roads were narrow paths leading through 

the forest, between these two places; as the 


Staten Island Settlers 97 

people had intercourse with no one but the 
inhabitants of New Amsterdam, there was no 
demand for island roads. But now, with new 
settlers arriving, there came to be intercourse 
on the island itself, and roads developed. Is- 
landers made ways to reach the two churches, 
that of the Waldenses at Stony Brook, and that 
of the Huguenots at Fresh Kills. 

As more and more settlers arrived, locating for 
the most part along the shores, roads followed 
their courses of commimication. These outlined 
the shores, then others intersected them, leading 
back into the island. As long ago as when 
Clute wrote his history, he stated that ''the 
Clove Road is the only original one now left.'* 

Staten Island began to be interesting histori- 
cally as far back as the Seventeenth Century. 
When there were two hundred white families 
living within its limits, there were two thousand 
Indians. Difficulties naturally arose, and from 
that time on the island was the stage of many 
dramatic events. British and American con- 
flicts took place on its soil, Indian raids, settle- 
ments from various lands with their attendant 
dramas; in fact, at no period in early America 
was the story of the island colorless. 

Within a few miles stretching across the north- 
east corner of the borough of Richmond one may 
find enough reminders of colonial life, of Dutch 
settlements, of Revolutionary events to last 

98 SoxxtK-ward 

for hotirs of prowling. In the early part of 
the Nineteenth Century a ''common road" ran 
from what is now St. George around toward the 
southeast, keeping close to the shore, and leading 
on to the vicinity of Arrochar. In following 
Bay Street of to-day you are approximating 
this road. 

In crossing from the Battery to St. George, 
review the story of New York's early quaran- 
tines as you pass their locations. Out to the 
right where the Statue of Liberty rises, on Bed- 
loe's Island, was placed the first important 
quarantine station. There it was established 
in 1758, long before the Revolution, when our 
rapidly increasing commerce and the incoming 
of more and more vessels were bringing us 
many infectious diseases. The Government 
recognized the need of quarantine measures, and 
Bedloe's Island was chosen, and used for this 
purpose for thirty-eight years. 

The station was then moved to Governor's 
Island, which lies at your left. So, until 1799, 
matters ran smoothly, when the yellow fever 
was suddenly imported to New York, and the 
cry of alarm arose. Governor's Island being 
thought too near the city. Commissioners were 
appointed, and they settled upon a parcel of 
land, thirty acres on the Staten Island shore, the 
property of St. Andrew's Church. Much dis- 
turbance was caused by this measure; the church 

Quarantine Excitement 99 

objected, the islanders objected, but ''the right 
of eminent domain" carried the day. 

Therefore the quarantine was established. 
After you leave the ferry station uX St. George 
you will cross a short bridge over railroad tracks 
and a short distance beyond, at the left, stands 
the Lighthouse Reservation; this enclosure is a 
part of the old quarantine. Good buildings 
were erected and the work of equipping them 
for wards went on, under protest from the first. 
During the first year there were twenty-five cases 
of imported disease on the island, outside the 
boundaries of the station, and twenty-four of 
the twenty-five were fatal. The indignation of the 
citizens waxed. The years that followed spread 
other diseases. Petitions brought promises but 
no fulfillment; it was said that the station was 
to be removed to Sandy Hook, but this was as 
far as the matter went. Finally the Board of 
Health of Castleton called upon the citizens, 
gathered them in a body, and the result was 
sensational and drastic action. 

Fully prepared, absolutely cool in method, a 
body of citizens entered the quarantine, removed 
every patient with the utmost care (not one 
was in the least injured), then calmly set 
about burning down the buildings. Only one 
building survived. That one you can see 
to-day, a storage house now for the lighthouse 

ido SoutH^ward 

This reservation is full of interest for its 
present as well as for its past. It is head- 
quarters for United States lighthouse supplies 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific; thence are 
sent forth lights, lenses, clocks, all the apparatus 
which keeps the lights shining from Casco Bay 
to the Golden Gate. Government buoys, too, 
are shipped from this point. 

Near here, at 154 Stuyvesant Place, is a large, 
old-fashioned house marked '* Public Museum.'' 
The collection includes many old documents, 
books, relics, coins, and so on relating to the 
colonial period on the island, and one of the 
treasures displayed is the original bell of 
the ancient Richmond courthouse. A complete 
model of the historic Billopp house is of parti- 
cular interest to those who have not the courage 
to take the rather trying walk to ferret out 
this old residence in Tottenville. 

The museum is under the auspices of the 
Staten Island Association of Arts and Sciences, 
and occupies two floors of the building. It is 
maintained by an annual budget appropriation 
from the city of New York. It possesses one of 
the most complete collections in existence of 
Staten Island Indian relics, claiming, under the 
head of archaeology, about fifteen thousand 
native specimens. 

Returning to the shore, and following along 
Bay Street, you will come to a dilapidated 

Old Planters* Hotel lOl 

building standing at the corner of Grant Street, 
a sign of ''Furnished Rooms" hanging before its 
door. Behind its decay, the building reveals 
a suggestion of ancient prosperity. It is well 
built of brick, with an old veranda running 
across the front and low windows above opening 
upon this; it has an old Dutch slant to its roof, 
with a chimney at each end; and the numerous 
windows which indicate a hostelry. This dingy, 
mournful, down-at-heel edifice was the famous 
old Planters' Hotel, where wealthy and aristo- 
cratic Southerners used to assemble and exchange 
genial southern stories in the early eighteen- 
hundreds. Here in Tompkins ville the building 
was erected by a Southerner in 1820 and con- 
ducted especially for southern visitors in New 
York, the early planters. In later years, when 
its clientage had melted away, it became a boys' 
academy, and since that period it has gradually 
degenerated. But its importance is indicated 
by the fact that upon Eddy's map of 1828 it is 
marked ''Planters' Hotel" as if it represented a 
large local center. 

Just to the south of it was the old Van Duzer's 
Ferry — ^this name of Dutch days being still 
perpetuated on the island. Vanderbilt's Peri- 
auger Ferry, from Stapleton, ran in opposition 
to it about 1800-17. 

Continuing on Bay Street, you will come to 
the intersection of Clinton. By making a short 

I02 So-utH^ward 

detour here, ttirning up Clinton Street to the 
right, you will reach old Pavilion Hill, or Mt. 
Tompkins, or Mt. Pavilion, or Cow Hill, as 
the height has been disrespectfully called. All 
names have been applied to the one elevation 
which offers a stiff climb and a fine water view 
at the. top. Not so very long ago there were 
still to be seen traces of the old fortifications; 
no sign remains now except a sort of excavation 
where some of the stonework stood. The 
view of shore and bay is one of the finest which 
Staten Island presents. 

In 1776 Sir William Howe and his brother 
Lord Howe had arrived on the island. Half of 
their men were encamped there and they them- 
selves were entertained at the Rose and Crown, 
a famous inn. The British now set about throw- 
ing up breastworks here and there near the shore, 
and two forts were built on Pavilion Hill, as it 
offered a most tempting position. During the 
stressful times of 18 12 the Americans rebuilt 
these fortifications, and so for many years the 
hill was strongly fortified. 

Long after it ceased to be used as a point of 
defense it became a popular Sunday resort and 
was known as Mt. Pavilion. 

Returning to Bay Street and following it to the 
corner of Congress, you will find one of the 
Vanderbilt houses at the right. This one is 
huge and imposing, with massive colonial pillars 

Vanderbilt's Boyhood 103 

framing its doorway. Although its- yard is 
unkempt, and the encroachment of business has 
robbed it of its beauty, its magnificence is still 
sufficient to give it dramatic contrast with the 
other home of the same Cornelius Vanderbilt, 
only a few doors further on. The earlier home 
stands at the corner of Union Street; it is a 
htunble little old white farmhouse, built by his 
mother, Mrs. Phoebe Vanderbilt; it was his 
boyhood's home before he erected his own 
mansion near by. 

Morris tells an entertaining and illumining 
story of young Vanderbilt when fifteen years old. 
It seems that he had entertained fantastic and 
boyish visions of going to sea and adventuring; 
to make these dreams practical, his mother 
offered him a reward of one hundred dollars with 
which he might buy a boat, provided he accom- 
plished an almost impossible farm task. Young 
Cornelius immediately laid the project before 
some of his boy friends, promised them sails in 
the boat if they would help him win it, and the 
task was forthwith accomplished. Instead of 
seeking treasure islands or playing hookey to loaf 
in his boat, he conceived the idea of ferrying 
passengers back and forth to the island, which 
he did for eighteen cents a trip. By the end of 
the first year he not only paid his mother for the 
boat, but had cleared one thousand dollars. 
By the end of the next year he had cleared 

I04 So\itH-ward 

another thousand and had secured a fractional 
interest in sorae more boats. He often went 
without his meals to carry excursion parties 
across. During the War of 1812 his business 
became tremendous. And so begins a story of 

The small farmhouse is much dilapidated, but 
its outline is preserved, and it forms a good 
example of the old Dutch type of building. 
Here the Commodore's wife died. 

Still further along on Bay Street you come to 
the Marine Hospital on high ground at your 
right, overlooking the bay. Just behind the 
modern building the old Seaman's Retreat was 
built more than a century ago; this was the 
original hospital building of the Marine Society 
of New York. Later the property was taken 
by the United States, and it was made over 
into a government hospital with fine modern 
equipment, accommodating many patients. At 
the western end of the land the Retreat laid 
out its cemetery; Clute says, **Here poor Jack 
finds a quiet resting place by the side of his 
comrades when his life of hardship, privations 
and peril is ended. " 

St. George, Tompkinsville, Stapleton, Clifton, 
and Rosebank are the villages passed along this 
northeastern shore. Rosebank offers a worth- 
while detour, to the house once occupied by 
Giuseppe Garibaldi. It is reached by turning 

The Public Museum of St. George, where many Valuable Historic Relics are Shown. 

The Old Planters^ Hotel, the Resort of Wealthy Southerners almost a Century Ago, 
on Bay Street, Staten Island. 

The Only Building Left of the Ancient Quarantine, Others 
Burned by Citizens in 1858. Near St. George Ferry. 

The Garibaldi House, Staten Island. 

Garibaldi in America 105 

into Chestnut Avenue, and is found on. a knoll 
at the corner of Tompkins Avenue. 

The memorial is curious in conception. So 
dilapidated was the house when public senti- 
ment awakened to the thought of preserving it, 
that it was obvious it could not stand many 
years of weather-beating; therefore a sub- 
stantial cement structure was built to enclose 
the old wooden building, leaving the latter open 
to the view of the public, although sheltered. 
A bronze bust of the Italian stands at the 
entrance, and a tablet. 

During the years which Garibaldi spent in 
this country, he became a most poptdar citizen 
of Staten Island. He entered into business 
enterprises as if he were one of us ; he made 
warm friends of his neighbors; he took the first 
three degrees in Freemasonry in Tompkins 
Lodge, No. 401, then at Tompkinsville. 

It is natural that the ardent and democratic 
spirit of the Italian patriot should have appealed 
to the sympathies of Americans, and that these 
warm friendships should have arisen. His love 
of adventure, his roving life and shifting fortunes 
— ^he had been drover, shipbroker, and teacher 
of mathematics in South America, in addition to 
his better known lines of endeavor in Europe — 
were full of charm to a country still in the mak- 
ing, whose people had faced adventure and met 
shifting fortunes themselves. It has been said 

io6 ScutK-ward 

of him, "He will always remain the central figure 
in the story of Italian independence. " 

While in Staten Island he worked as a candle- 
maker for eighteen months, after which he 
became captain of various merchantmen. He 
returned to Italy in 1854. 

Let us return to the shore. At the narrow 
point where the division between Upper and 
Lower New York Bay is formed by the close 
proximity of Staten and Long Islands, Fort 
Wadsworth stands. Opposite, on the Long 
Island shore, stands Fort Hamilton; together 
they command this entrance to our harbor. 
This situation was one of the points chosen by- 
Sir William Howe in 1776, at the same time 
that he chose Pavilion Hill, for British forti- 

He caused an especially strong defense to be 
erected here, and when it was abandoned at the 
end of the Revolution it remained as it was until 
the trouble of 1812 prompted the strengthening 
of its position. During that war time. Governor 
Daniel D. Tompkins of New York State had 
two stone forts, called Tompkins and Richmond, 
erected on these heights above the Narrows. 
Still another renaissance took place after this war 
was over, when, in 1847, the reservation was 
bought by the United States Government. 
The old forts were demolished and new works 
built, and the present Fort Wadsworth encloses 

Last SHot of tHe Revol\ition IC7 

the old Fort Tompkins and is kept up to date in 
its improvements. 

The last shot of the Revolution was fired at 
this fort by a British gunboat on Evacuation 
Day in 1783, because the Staten Island onlookers 
were so openly derisive. This parting shot was 
apparently a sort of final expression of opinion — 
and the war was over. 

A short walk along the line of the trolley brings 
you to the district known as Arrochar Park — 
''right where them two saloons stand on the top 
o' the hill," according to a local direction. 
Although nothing of particular interest catches 
the eye to-day, this part is of great historical 
importance, for it is the site of Oude Dorp, or 
Old Town, the first settlement by Europeans on 
Staten Island. Authorities have debated over 
the exact location of this ancient settlement, but 
it seems generally accepted that it lay to the west 
of Port Wadsworth, near the blockhouse which 
was built on the heights, and that the present 
Arrochar practically corresponds with its location. 

Here, in 1641, the little hamlet was com- 
menced. Seven Dutch cottages were erected 
by diligent settlers. The building was with 
stones fotmd on the shore, with lumber hewn 
from the virgin forest, with shells picked up on 
the shore and ground for mortar. The settlers 
engaged in fur trading and farming, and entered 
upon a peaceful, busy life. 

lo8 SoiitKivarcl 

It was not long, however, before trouble with 
the Indians began. Governor Kieft had a 
distillery which may have stood at Oude Dorp, at 
any rate on the island, and from it the Indians 
obtained rum which made them exceedingly 
intoxicated. Excited by drink, imposed upon 
by certain white persons, they took to disturbing 
the innocent settlers of Oude Dorp, and before 
the year was out five tribes had banded to- 
gether, had descended upon the struggling little 
town, and burned it, slaying almost all the in- 
habitants. Those who escaped joined the sol- 
diers at the blockhouse and made off across the 

A second time the town was built, and now 
eleven tribes banded together and repeated their 
destruction. Finally de Vries, the patroon 
of Staten Island, succeeded in making peace 
with the tribes and still again the farmhouses 
were built, in 1644. Such persistence and forti- 
tude were characteristic of the Hollanders. 
But the following year trouble arose again. A 
squaw was seen by Hendrick Van Dyck, stealing 
peaches in his garden; he shot in sudden anger 
and killed the woman, and the famous '* Peach 
War '' opened. To avenge the squaw's death the 
tribes descended, sixty-four canoes arriving and 
nineteen hundred savage fighters, and in a short 
time Oude Dorp met its end. This was its end 
indeed; the Old Town never had the courage to 

THe Old Vreeland Homestead 109 

rebmld, and the settlement vanished, into a 

A little further on is South Beach, a people's 
playground, where peanut, ice-cream and chew- 
ing gum consumption is going on under the 
nose of history. The landmark of interest which 
formerly stood at this point has been demolished; 
it was the old Vreeland homestead, still another 
representative of the early Dutch farmhouses 
on the island. 

The ''common road*' which followed the line 
of the shore a century ago swung westward at a 
point north of Fort Richmond and joined itself 
to another road leading from that fort inland. 
Converging, they made a southwesterly way, 
much as the Rapid Transit runs to-day; united, 
they brought up eventually at Tottenville, where 
the road continued in the form of a ferry to Perth 



IN the heart of Staten Island is the village of 
Richmond, once a most important center 
and coimty seat. A main road ran to it, pene- 
trating one of the island's finest districts, both as 
farming land and from the standpoint of beauty; 
for the hills in and about Richmond offer the 
best of views. To-day the road running past 
Emerson Hill, Dongan Hills, and New Dorp, 
arrives at the same village and suggests the old 
route while not following it exactly. 

The land rises from St. George on the beach, 
and reaches a fine height in Emerson Hill, named 
for the owner of the house which once stood there 
and its successor — ^Judge William Emerson. He 
was a brother of Ralph Waldo Emerson, and 
there are many Staten Island associations con- 
nected with both men. Judge Emerson was a 
New Englander, a Harvard graduate, and a close 
friend of his more famous brother. He built a 
house familiarly known as ''The Snuggery" 
which stood on this steep tract of land; this was 


Emerson's "Snxi^^ery *' ill 

burned, and replaced by the building which now 
stands, a substantial old home of dignified 
proportions. Judge Emerson made his home on 
the hill from 1837 to 1856, and here his literary 
brother often visited him. It is supposed that 
the author wrote many of his poems here, and 
also his Representative Men lectures, which he 
delivered afterwards in England. The name 
''Snuggery** was especially fitting to the com- 
fortable, genial, hospitable atmosphere which 
this family always created. 

An interesting modern feature of Emerson 
Hill is the Japanese garden laid out by Mr. C. T. 
Brown. A curved Japanese bridge, sharp ter- 
races, and curious ancient lamps are suggestive 
of the Orient in a spot adapted by nature to the 

From this point on toward Richmond, old 
houses marking early settlements are to be seen 
from time to time. One of these is the Perrine 
homestead at Dongan Hills, close beside the 
Richmond Road. It was built in 1668 and for 
two hundred years remained in the possession 
of one family. An addition has been built, but 
the old part still remains intact and can be 
recognized by its picturesque shabbiness of 
drooping roof and stained walls, and by the 
quaint bushes of wax berries which grow about 
its gate and worn path to the door. 

Further along the road you will come to New 

112 SoutH-ward 

Dorp with its old Moravian church. The pres- 
ent building dates only from 1845, but the first 
worshipers of this faith on the island arrived 
much earlier. Captain Nicholas Garrison is said 
to have been the first Moravian to settle there. 
The story goes that he commanded a ship sailing 
from Georgia to New York, and on the voyage a 
violent storm was encountered. One of the pas- 
sengers was Bishop Spangenburg;, he remained 
calm during the peril, praying constantly for 
the survival of the ship. The storm subsided, 
all reached port in safety, and ever after the 
pious Bishop and the brave Captain were the 
firmest friends. 

This vessel had been built for the use of the 
Moravians, or United Brethren, on Staten 
Island, between the years of 1745 and 1748, and 
Bishop Spangenburg had given almost its entire 
cost out of his liberal purse. For nine years the 
ship remained in the service of the church, cross- 
ing the Atlantic from New York to London or 
Amsterdam, and once traveling all the way to 
Greenland. She crossed the ocean twenty-four 
times in all, and bore an excellent reputation 
for seaworthiness. 

During their earliest years on the island, the 
Moravians held services in a school. In 1756 it 
is said that there were only three communicant 
members on the island, these being Jacobus 
Vanderbilt and his wife Vettje, and Elizabeth 

TKe Moravian CKvircK 1 13 

Inyard, a widow. It was not until 1762. that a 
number of persons applied for the establishment 
of a chtirch. Cortelyou, Vanderbilt, and Perrine 
were among the names on this list. The original 
letter, expressing the desire that a church be 
established at New Dorp, near the home of the 
early colony of Waldenses, is now among the 
archives at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 

In the following year (1763) the corner stone 
of the church and parsonage was laid. It was 
then the custom to erect these buildings all in 
one, and this building is still standing, although 
worship is held in the newer church. 

The old building has seen stirring times. 
There was a night during the Revolution when 
British soldiers broke into the parsonage and 
wrought havoc, destroying all the furniture on 
which they could lay their hands. What was 
far more serious to the members of the old 
congregation, the enemy carried off the precious 
archives, and except for the law providing that 
duplicates of every official record shall be kept, 
there would now be a sadly broken line of history 
to record the Moravians' experiences. 

Much w:ealth came into the church through the 
generosity of the Vanderbilt family. The mau- 
soleum now to be seen on the hill behind the 
church is surrounded by a large tract of land, 
the entire cost of land and structure amounting 
to almost a million dollars. In both property 

114 SoxitHiRrard 

and money the family gave largely to the church. 
William H. Vanderbilt, his son, and his grandson 
are all buried here. 

The original building was given over to the 
uses of a school and a dwelling house when the 
new edifice was put up. It bears the tradition 
of being the first house of worship on the island 
in which an organ was used. 

Across the street from the church and ceme- 
tery stands a dejected little residence, its lines 
practically unaltered from early days. This 
was the home of Aaron Cortelyou. Many years 
ago a burglary was committed in this house by 
a negro who paid the penalty on a gallows erected 
on the site of the present school at Richmond. 
This was the first legal execution in Richmond 

You have passed beside Todt Hill while fol- 
lowing the road; that hill whose name has led 
to many a debate among historians and many a 
facetious tale among fictionists. It rises from 
the Richmond Road at Garretsons, the district 
now known as Dongan Hills. Some of the early 
writers traced its name to a Dutch word, say- 
ing that during the days of battles with Indians 
on the island, a number of Dutch settlers were 
killed in a sharp conflict on this hill, and thus 
arose the name Todt, or Death Hill. 

Others have claimed that the correct name 
was "Toad," and the tradition still lives of the 

The Cortelyou Homestead at New Dorp. 

The Moravian Church at New Dorp. 

The Old Richmond Court-IIouse. 

The Old Perrine Homestead, Dongan Hills. 

Witches and Whipping Post 115 

origin of this. It is said that a charming maiden 
resided on this hill, courted by more than one 
gallant. A certain one of the number was a most 
unwelcome guest at her home, and upon one 
occasion she secretly dropped a toad or two into 
his pockets, by way of practical joke. He took 
the hint that his society was not desired, and 
stayed away, but his friends learned of the joke 
and thereafter teased him to such an extent 
about his visits to ''Toad Hill" that the name 

Stony Brook is included in New Dorp. Here 
the Waldenses settled about the middle of the 
Seventeenth Century, thus forming the second 
settlement upon the island. The first courthouse, 
jail, and church were erected here. Witches 
who made themselves unpopular upon the island 
were punished at Stony Brook's ancient whip- 
ping post. Farmers gathered here with their 
produce on marketing days. 

After the French and Indian War, General 
Monckton rested here with his army for a period 
of several weeks. Sir Jeffrey Amherst was in- 
vested with the Order of the Bath during this 
time, on October 25, 1761. Dtiring the Civil 
War there was a military post in New Dorp. 

Beyond the Moravian Cemetery, still within 
the limits of New Dorp, the road curves, and at 
the curve, on a rambhng building, hangs a sign 
which calls up some of the spiciest memories 

Il6 SoutH^ward 

of Revolutionary days, when the rollicking 
British soldiers made their headquarters here, 
played their games and fought their duels. 
The sign, in modern lettering, is ''Black Horse 

Fortunately the successive proprietors of the 
old road house have had enough sentiment, or eye 
for popularity, to preserve the name as it stood 
in the seventeen-hundreds when it was famous 
from end to end of the island. Origiiially there 
were two of these inns: (their stories are to be 
found in Morris's History) the Rose and Crown, 
where Sir William Howe stayed, and kept part 
of his staff, and summoned his generals in 
cotmcil; and the Black Horse, where other 
members of the staff stayed and where most 
of the revelry was carried on. The Rose and 
Crown has long since disappeared. The Black 
Horse has been altered and added to, but the 
main portion of the old building is to be seen. 

Mine host of to-day is as ruddy and genial as 
we assujne the host of old to have been. In his 
family dining-room he proudly displays the old 
beams, encased in pine, stretching sturdily across 
the ceiling. But his treasure of treasures is 
the ancient sign-board, the original, which used 
to sway before the door and beckon the passing 
soldier to the hospitality within. 

It is said that one Lieutenant-Colonel Benton, 
a close friend of Howe's, was the possessor of a 

Si^xi of tHe BlacK Horse 117 

dashing black charger which had won a -long list 
of races in old New Dorp Lane. At one time 
when Howe was reviewing some of his men, Ben- 
ton mounted the animal and rode bravely forth 
to make a goodly display. The horse suddenly 
became alarmed and ran, Benton losing control 
completely, and in its fright the beast hurled 
itself against a wall of rock killing both itself 
and its rider. Curiously enough, it struck the 
fancy of the group of onlookers to call the tavern 
''The Black Horse'' as a strange memorial to 
this incident. A British soldier who happened 
to have a knack with the brush painted the sign- 
board. For long it swung outside the door, but 
the weathers of many winters were damaging it 
so much that it was taken down a few years ago 
and is now preserved indoors where any traveler 
may see it. The old painting is faint but still 
traceable, and the richly weathered wood is 
peppered with bullet holes. 

The sign has had adventures of its own. 
After the Revolution it disappeared, and hvas 
not found until a neighboring barn, upon being 
torn down, revealed the shabby sign under its 
piles of rubbish. It was immediately restored 
to its old position. 

Long years after the great war, the old pro- 
prietor of the inn used to receive visits from 
British officers who were living in Canada, and 
who, with their sons, liked to return to the old 

Ii8 So-utH-ward 

Spot where they had seen some of their most 
adventurous da^gj The tavern was of great 
interest to them, also the knoll called Camp 
Hill, near the building. In the hollow west of 
the hill the dense woods used to screen many a 
duel during the time that the British were 
encamped at New Dorp. In fact the whole 
region teemed with their exploits, and came to 
be a sort of miniature Monte Carlo. 

Half a block beyond the tavern is the old 
Fountain house. The lower part of it is the 
same stone building which was put up in 1668, 
and at the farther end an outcurving of bricks 
marks the old Dutch oven where many a sub- 
stantial loaf used to be baked. The building 
to-day presents the appearance of a modern 
suburban cottage, but it is of genuine historical 

It is the remaining dwelling of that Walden- 
sian-Huguenot settlement which dated back 
to the very early days of the island's white 
settlement, when the Waldensian church at 
Stony Brook was the first organized church 
there, as well as the first Waldensian church in 
North America. The denomination which grew 
from the belief of Peter Waldo in Lyons in the 
second half of the Twelfth Century had been 
persecuted in Europe and had been driven to 
wander much as the Huguenots were, and one 
group drifted to Staten Island. Here at Stony 

TKe Fovxntain House 119 

Brook, near this old house, they built acquaint 
and humble little church which the Indians often 
attempted to destroy. Around the church grew 
up a loyal and thrifty congregation who made 
contented homes. The Fountain house is the 
best remaining relic of that period and group. 

The road now soon arrives at Richmond. It 
was after the appointment of Governor Thomas 
Dongan, in 1683, that four counties were estab- 
lished: New York, Kings, Queens, and Richmond, 
the latter to include all of Staten Island, ''and 
Shutter's Island, and the islands of meadow 
on the west side thereof.*' Stony Brook was 
the county seat, but this was later transferred to 
Richmond. The argument for this change was 
that ''there is a bell by ye church which could be 
rung by ye high sheriff, and thus add dignity and 
respect to ye court of his Majesty ye King 
of Great Britain." ' The courthouse was built 
there, and in it, when court was not occupying 
its rooms, a village singing school was held. 

The original courthouse has vanished, but the 
one which took its place is still standing, and this 
in itself is old. It is a large building at the head 
of a hilly block, and behind it the county jail 
stands. It has the look of age, and dates back 
to the eight een-thirties. Opposite it is the old 
Surrogate's office, about a decade later in date 
and quaint in structure. 

Down the hill, and only a short distance 

120 SoutHi^ard 

beyond, is historic old St. Andrew's church 
which, in 1908, celebrated its two-hundredth 
anniversary and placed a tablet upon its wall in 
commemoration of the fact that it has held its 
own since the days when Queen Anne gave it the 
royal charter under which it was established. 
She gave hkewise the silver communion service 
which is treasured in the Metropolitan Museum 
of Manhattan to-day, a duplicate of it being kept 
at the church. The bell, the prayer-books, and 
the pulpit cover which she gave have vanished 
in the cotirse of time. The land which she gave 
still belongs to the chtirch, and some of the land 
given in bequest by Ellis Duxbuiy, in Tompkins- 
ville, for the maintenance of its minister, still 
assists in defraying the expenses of the parish. 

A tablet on the wall of the church commemo- 
rates its famous Revolutionary event. It was 
in October, 1776, that General Hugh Mercer, who 
was in command of certain American forces in 
near-by New Jersey, crossed over to Staten 
Island to undertake an attack. He received the 
information that three companies of the enemy 
were stationed at Richmond; he therefore aimed 
his attack in that direction; a group of riflemen 
under Major Clarke were to advance to the east 
end of the village, along with Colonel Griffin who 
was detached with Colonel Patterson's battalion. 
On the other sides, so the plan was laid, the 
rest of the troops would attack Richmond. 

Battle at tKe CKxircH 12 1 

It was on the night of October 15th that these 
troops from Perth Amboy crossed, and by day- 
break Richmond was reached. Hearing of the 
Americans' approach, the British fled and the 
patriots halted, supposing the day to be theirs. 
But while they were halting, the sound of a 
volley of musketry astonished them, coming 
from the direction of St. Andrew's church; 
investigation proved that some of the enemy 
were remaining, using this spot as a defense. 

Then ensued a sharp battle. Major Clarke 
and his riflemen went forward to the attack, and 
found themselves confronted by a detachment 
of Skinner's men who were in front of the build- 
ing. Firing a second volley, they retired within its 
walls. When a shot from a church window laid 
low one of Clarke's men directly beside him, he 
withheld no longer, and began the attack upon 
the chiirch. By that time the American forces 
were gathered, and Colonel Griffin, who was in 
command, demanded that the British troops 
within the building surrender. They refused, 
and the Americans now stormed the build- 
ing, shooting until every windowpane was 
shattered. Next the Americans began to 
throw rocks in at the windows, to save 

Upon this a soldier came to the door and stated 
that the troops within were ready to surrender, 
offering the explanation that the church was 

122 SoutK-ward 

being used as a British hospital, and the sick and 
suffering lay within. The attacking party had 
not been aware of this fact, and Griffin merci- 
fiolly permitted the surgeon to remain at his 
post with the sick while all others were marched 
out as prisoners. 

Tlie Americans started for Old Blazing Star 
Landing with their prisoners — ^their victory 
looked secure. But there were British troops 
ready to follow, and the upshot of the affair was 
that the prisoners were re-taken, along with 
those articles which the Americans had taken 
from the church — namely, forty-five muskets and 
other implements of war, and a standard of the 
British Light Horse. There were about twenty 
prisoners, all of whom had to be surrendered. 
It was with difficulty that the Americans them- 
selves made their escape, and got across the 

During the Revolution, while the British were 
in possession of the island, services were sus- 
pended in all its churches except this. It has 
been twice burned and restored, but it is easy 
to trace in the wall of to-day the original 

Among the headstones in the old churchyard 
are many of great age, their legends dim with the 
wear of years. One reads: 

''Here lies the body of Sarah. She was a good 
neighbor, a tender mother to ten children, and 

St. Andrew's Church. 

Photograph by F. M. Simonson. 

Cockloft Hall of ^'Salmagundi Papers.'' 

A Bridge in the Japanese Garden of C. T. Brown, Emerson Hill, Staien Island. 

The Old Fomttain House at New Dorp, a Relic of the Waldensian Settlement. 
The Stone Lower Part Is the Original Building. House Dates back to 1668. 

Feminine Virtues 123 

an obedient wife/' thus summing up all the 
feminine virtues. And another: 

Free from the busy cares of life, 
Here lies a prudent virtuous wife, 

Who never caused a husband's sigh. 
But once, alas, that she must die. 



MORE than two hundred years ago Captain 
Christopher Billopp piled up the deck of 
his vessel with empty barrels and set sail to 
encircle Staten Island. Thereby hangs a much 
longer tale than the worthy Captain Billopp ever 
dreamed he was writing in the annals of New 
York State history. 

Because it took him only a little over twenty- 
three hours to accomplish his trip, Staten Island 
was made a part of New York State, instead of 
New Jersey, and all because those empty barrels 
on Captain Billopp's deck gave him such excel- 
lent gain in sailing power. 

The associations with the Billopp story lie in 
Tottenville, at the remote end of the island. 
This village perpetuates the honored name of 
Totten, long familiar in the island's history. Al- 
though in another State than Perth Amboy, the 
two have been inseparably linked by their posi- 
tion, so that old inhabitants of either refer to 
* ' the other side " as if they were one town. From 


Ferry from Amboy 125 

a paper of 1737 this annotincement was reprinted 
in Valentine's Manual: 

"These are to inform all persons that there is a 
ferry settled from Amboy over to Staten Island, 
which is duly attended for the conveniency 
of those that have occasion to pass and repass 
that way. The ferriage is fourteen pence, 
Jersey currency, for man and horse, and five 
pence for a single passenger. '' 

The railroad which whirls the traveler across 
the island to Tottenville carries him over a most 
surprising district when he considers the fact 
that he is within the limits of Greater New York. 
It is only a short time since the census estimate 
showed fewer than three inhabitants to the acre 
on this island, and the ride across many open 
miles in this direction makes the figures believ- 
able, in spite of the crowded Staten Island near 
the ferry, with whith we are more familiar. 
At times the up-hill and down-dale country 
appears almost a wilderness, stretching away 
toward the water; a wilderness fertile and 
ready, waiting to be reclaimed. 

The Billopp house, which is the pilgrim's goal, 
stands at some distance from the Tottenville 
station, and a walk of about a mile awaits one 
who does not travel in carriage or automobile. 
In general, the directions are: to turn to the left 
from the railroad track; follow the street up from 
the ferry to Elliott Avenue; now turn toward 

126 SoutH-ward 

the right, and let Elliott Avenue lead you into a 
sandy road which cuts across a decidedly waste 
place. Kelley gives directions, '* Follow Broad- 
way, Main Street and Amboy Road to the Lane 
and Bentley Avenue," but the traveler will 
find the Billopp house more readily if he asks 
the way than by means of any printed rules. 

It stands a little way beyond a group of farm- 
houses, and is surrounded by very large trees, 
generations old, with the sort of gigantic trunks 
that one seldom sees in this part of the world, 
where forest fires and reckless axes have wrought 
havoc. Here, under the shade of these trees, 
stands the famous old ''Manor of Bentley,'' as 
the house was called in the days of its golden 
prime; now a battered, uncared-for relic, in- 
habited but neglected, forgotten except by the 
history lover. 

With one exception, its feattires wear exactly 
the same appearance as in the past. The one 
change consists in the removal of the porch 
which used to run across the front of the 
building, with colonial pillars and a slant roof. 
This porch rotted until it had to be torn down; 
but the splendid stone-work of early days, when 
building was done for the future, is in excellent 
condition even now. 

The Billopp house is of such interest in New 
York's history, that its decay is a melancholy 
sight. Built in 1668, it was from the first 

Discord on Staten Island 127 

connected with some of the most interesting 
passages in the island's records. 

After Staten Island had been discovered by 
Hendrick Hudson, there followed years of Dutch 
colonial government in it, during which this 
fine tidbit of land, in what came to be Totten- 
ville, belonged to Nova Caesarea, the name of 
that period for New Jersey. 

Now James, the Duke of York and brother to 
Charles the Second, was given a sort of ruler- 
ship over all the king's possessions in America. 
Provinces which had been under Dutch control 
passed into English hands. Staten Island be- 
came a scene of discord; to the English and 
Dutch dissensions the French added their 
quarrels, and matters began to look somewhat 
like a Kilkenny-cat controversy. 

To settle matters, the Duke finally came to a 
decidedly original decision. He ordained that 
if the islands in the harbor of New York could 
be circumnavigated in twenty-foiu* hours they 
shotdd belong to the colony of New York; other- 
wise, Nova Caesarea, or New Jersey, was to 
possess them. The next thing was to find the 
right man to attend to the circumnavigation. 

It happened at the fortunate time that Captain 
Christopher Billopp was stopping at Perth 
Amboy. His vessel, called The Bentley, was 
a small one, probably belonging to the British 
navy, although there seems to be a question 

128 SoutH^ward 

as to whether it was of the merchant service 
or not. 

Billopp was chosen to perform the Dtike's 
task. He was accounted an excellent seaman; 
but the feat did not promise to be easy, even so. 
He did not start out until he had thought over 
the matter carefully, to determine how he would 
be best able to accomplish it. 

And thus he hit upon the idea of the empty 
barrels. If he were to cover his deck with them, 
he argued, he would gain much sailing power. 
Thus laden he set out, and we can picture the 
excitement which held New Yorkers and New 
Jerseyites in throbbing suspense. 

Captain Billopp performed his feat. Nay, he 
more than performed it; a trifle over twenty- 
three hours sufficed for his sail, and Staten 
Island was New York's. 

The Duke had a reward ready. So much 
pleased was he with Billopp's success, that, 
instead of letting him return to England to make 
his home, he presented the Captain with 1163 
acres of land on Staten Island and invited him to 
remain there. 

This land was at that corner of the" island 
where you are now. So fine a plum had fallen 
into the worthy seaman's hands that he deter- 
mined to make the most of it, and he set himself 
at once to building a suitable residence. He 
named it, for the vessel which had won him his 

THe Billopp Family 129 

laurels, the Manor of Bentley. The stones of 
which it was built were found in the vicinity, and 
were suitable for the best of walls; but Billopp 
sent to Belgium for the bricks needed, and to 
England for the cement. 

The next thing for a wise sea-captain to do, 
having settled down in a home on dry land, was 
to take unto himself a wife — ^which he did. The 
daughter of Thomas Farmar, a judge who lived in 
Richmond County, looked comely to him, and 
her he chose. 

Thus was established the Billopp household, 
destined to play an important part in local his- 
tory. The Captain himself disappeared in the 
early seventeen-hundreds, before the Revolution 
came on; it is believed that his vessel. The Bent- 
ley J went down with him while he was making a 
voyage to England to visit his old home. He 
left a widow and one charming daughter. Miss 
Eugenia Billopp, who had received a fashionable 
education at the Perth Amboy Academy across 
the Kill. Miss Eugenia conceived an affection 
for her cousin, another Thomas Farmar, and the 
mother gave permission for the marriage to take 
place on the proviso that the happy groom should 
adopt the name of Billopp and make his home in 
the Manor of Bentley. 

So the family name was perpetuated. The old 
Captain's grandson, likewise named Christopher, 
lived to be a loyalist and to be carried off by a 

I30 SoxitK^ward 

group of American rangers who held him for 
ransom and kept him captive until an American 
prisoner was given in exchange. Once more 
he was taken captive, but at Howe's request 
General Washington set him free. He left 
this part of the country after the war, and 
took up his residence in the more sympathetic 
atmosphere of Nova Scotia. 

A family burial ground was early established 
near the old house in Tottenville, and until 
recently some of the headstones were to be 
seen in their places. Members of the Billopp 
family, and their Indian friends, were laid near 
the house. At last only two headstones re- 
mained, and these were being so much damaged 
by the ubiquitous souvenir fiend, who chipped 
off bits to carry away, that they were removed 
to the cellar of the house. 

The inscription on one of them reads (some 
letters being obliterated) : 

*'. . . Lyes ye Body of Thomas Billopp Esq, 
son of Thomas Farmar Esq. Dec^ August ye 2^ 
1750 In ye 39*^ year of his age." 

And the other: 

''Here lyes y® Body of Evjenea y^ Wife of 
Thomas Baiopp. Aged 23 years . • . March. ..." 

The old cellar has its own tradition. That 
black, cavernous doorway, which looks like a 
gulping mouth awaiting the imwary, points 
the way to the dungeon beyond. A veritable 

' The Old Stone House in Willock's Lane/' Used by the British 
during the Revolution. Built 1/34. {Perth Amhoy.) 

Billopp House, Tottenville. Built 1668. Where Howe, Clinton, Cornwallis, and 
Burgoyne were Entertained. 

' Dungeon ' ' Approach, Billopp House, Tottenville, Through this 
Cellar Door Lies the Entrance to the Famous Dungeon where 
Patriots are Supposed to have been Imprisoned, and from 
which a Subway may have Led to the River. 

The "Parker Castle'^ in Perth Amboy. 

Mysterious Dxin^eon 131 

dungeon it is, probably as mysteriously legend- 
like as any cellar of an American citizen ever con- 
tained. You will grope your way from the dim 
light which surrounds the entrance, on into the 
growing dusk, until you reach a far corner where 
total blackness reigns. Stooping, striving to 
follow your guide, feeling your way, you enter 
at last a room like a cave, solidly walled and 

Here, during that period of the Revolution 
when the house was held as a British outpost, it 
is said that this dungeon was put to stern uses. 
Our own American patriots are supposed to have 
been held captive there. Many a hardship did 
they suffer in this black cell. It is believed 
that an underground passage was made at that 
time, leading down to the river, a distance of 
two hundred yards; but to-day this cannot 
be traced. There is said to be a fairly good 
foundation for the theory. 

But these gloomy tales of the dungeon, the 
suffering prisoners, and the underground passage, 
are only one side of the old house's history. 
Perhaps they are the more romantic side; when 
Cooper wrote The Water Witch he laid one of its 
scenes in this mysterious cellar. But gay and 
sparkling scenes took place above-stairs. Many 
a banquet did the old manor see; many a daintily 
brocaded lady, many a gallant ruffled and pow- 
dered gentleman tripped to light measure at the 

132 SoutK^ward 

Billopp balls. Colonel Billopp became famous 
for his magnificent entertainments. Such offi- 
cers as Howe, Cornwallis, Clinton, Burgoyne, 
Knyphausen, and Andre were among his guests. 

It was after the Battle of Long Island in 
1776 that Howe went to the Billopp house to 
meet^ Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and 
Edward Rutledge, who were chosen to confer 
upon the issues of the war. They hoped for 
peace, but when they found that Howe's offer 
was merely to resume old conditions, as before 
the war, the conference came to an end without 

The village of Tottenville was once known as 
the Manor of Bentley, and the peninsula at its 
farthest point, later called Ward's Point, was 
originally Billopp's Point. Later on the village 
became simply ''Bentley." Then along came 
the Totten family, and the town became divided 
against itself, for the lower section, hailing a new 
hero, desired that it be called after Totten. 
With the upper section battling for ''Bentley," 
the lower for "Tottenville," the friction was 
bitter, until the victory of the lower half settled 
the question. The name of Totten stands in 
the records of old St. Andrew's Church, known 
for its "respectability and influence." 

Looking over to the Jersey shore, your eye is 
crossing the Arthur Kill, which name is a cor- 
ruption of the old Dutch "Achter Cull," and 

The Kills 133 

was the same as Staten Island Sound. * Davis 
calls attention to a similar corruption in the name 
Kill van Kull, as we now abbreviate and spell 
it; this was once upon a time "Het Kill van het 
Cull, " or ''the stream of the bay. " 

Across the kills early ferries used to ply; 
crossings were adopted by the Indians, and later 
the white settlers followed in their paths. 
Several ferries were operated early at Port 
Richmond which lies across the Kill van Kull 
from Bayonne; Decker's Ferry is named as far 
back as 1777, and others followed it. From 
Staten Island to Elizabethtown Point a ferry 
was operated by Adoniah Schuyler in 1762. 
Crossing to-day from Tottenville to Perth 
Amboy you are traveling in practically the 
same line as the early ferry between these points. 

With the modern industrial skyline of the 
Jersey shore ahead of you, and the crowding 
craft hovering all about you on the water, it is 
hard to realize that at one time these ferries were 
closed because there was no travel between the 
two shores, on account of animosity. So strong 
a tie now binds them that we can hardly think 
of Staten Island as a lone continent, unvisited 
by her neighbors. The Dutch did not release 
their hold willingly, and there were many strug- 
gles over the proprietorship, which brought 
about hard feeling that it took considerable 
time to heal. 

134 SoutKuvard 

Long ago Perth Amboy was reckoned a rival 
of New York, being a thriving and fashionable 
young city. It fell behind in the race, but 
remained to this day a town of much charm. 

A number of old buildings stand, records 
of the days when it was a better-known cen- 
ter. Until recently it has been possible to 
see the old barracks used in the Revolution, but 
these have finally been torn down. The ''Gov- 
ernor's Mansion'* stands, in excellent condition, 
and lends dignity to the entire street upon which 
it is conspicuous. It is now used as a hotel, hav- 
ing changed hands several times since it was built 
in 1784, and being at present owned by John S. 
Hanson. It is at No. 149 Kearney Street. 

The Board of Lords Proprietors of East Jersey 
erected it as a home for the colonial governor. 
The solid material of which it is built was brought 
over from England. Governor William Frank- 
lin occupied the house, and it was used as a head- 
quarters for army officers during the Revolution. 
Previous to this it had been occupied by Governor 
Hamilton and other royal governors. 

After the Revolution the place became a gay 
inn, and was known for its fashion and merry- 
makings. This famous hotel was called ''The 
Brighton. '* Later on it changed its ways once 
more, and became a home for Presbyterian 
ministers, which it remained for a score of years. 

Since it entered upon the career of a modern 

"ParKer Castle *• 135 

hostelry many improvements have been made, 
but not in a way to alter the general aspect 
of the old building. There is now a sun parlor 
on the roof, with a view stretching away to 
Sandy Hook, and a modern garden in the rear, 
but these additions do not destroy the ancestral 
appearance of the mansion. 

Going back in the direction of the ferry and 
turning up Water Street, you will come upon 
a somewhat dilapidated structure known as 
''Parker Castle." Several generations of the 
family have dwelt there since the days when 
James Parker built it. In the time of the 
Revolution it was known as one of the finest 
dwellings in this part of the country. 

Parker himself took no part in the war, so his 
property was not confiscated; but he had con- 
nections on the royal side, therefore it was con- 
sidered necessary to place him under restraint, 
and in 1777 he was kept in confinement in Morris- 
town. The family long dwelt there, and its 
members have represented the law, the army, 
and the state. Other persons live there now, 
but many relics of the old days are preserved, 
among them, the kitchen's corner cupboard. 

''The Old Stone House in Willock's Lane" is 
the familiar appellation applied to a quaint little 
structure standing to the south of Fayette 
Street. It is said that the house was built in 
1734, ^^d had the eventful experience of being 

136 SovjitH"warcl 

occupied by British soldiers dtiring the Revolu- 
tionary War. For many years it was the home of 
the Marsh family, well-known in Perth Amboy 
annals, and was afterwards sold to William B. 
Watson. It is now the property of William W. 





NEWARK of a century ago was to its section 
of New Jersey much the same as any rail- 
way center is to-day. This was the era of the 
turnpike, and it was the main organ from which 
many arteries ran out in various directions into 
the State. 

In its earliest days it had lived its own life, 
paying little attention to other communities. 
The first definite move toward outreaching was 
made in 1765, when, by act of the Assembly, 
the Plank Road was provided for. This road 
had always been Newark's outlet toward the 
lower part of the river, but now it became part 
of a system of communication with Powles 
Hook. The plank construction was an innova- 
tion and excited much comment. The French- 
man, Brissot de Warville, is quoted as saying: 
''QBuilt wholly of wood, with much labor and 
perseverance, in the midst of water, on a soil 
that trembles under your feet, it proves to what 


140 Westward 

point may be carried the patience of man, who is 
determined to conquer nature^'' 

Urqiihart traces the progress of travel, which 
now received a new impetus. Later in the 
same year a law was passed providing for 
the appointment of road commissioners to run 
out straight public roads, between New York 
and Philadelphia. In 1756, the first New York- 
Philadelphia stage had been put through, by 
way of Perth Amboy and Trenton, and now 
that the straightening of the road was under- 
taken, a second stage was established, to follow 
the new route. But popular travel still in- 
clined to Elizabeth and its ferry instead of 
Newark, until after the Revolution. The first 
road travel was primitive and subject to some 
hardships, thus described by a graphic pen of 
that day: 

'yml the way to Newark (9 miles) is a very flat, 
marshy country, intersected with rivers; many 
cedar swamps, abounding with mosquitoes, which 
bit our legs, and hands, exceedingly; where 
they fix they will continue sucking our blood 
if not disturbed, till they swell four times their 
ordinary size, when they absolutely fall off 
and burst from their fulness. At two miles we 
cross a large cedar swamp; at three miles we 
intersect the road leading to Bergen, a Dutch 
town, half a mile on our right; at five miles we 
cross Hackensack (a little below the site of 

-An Advent\iro\J8 Journey to NeiJvarK 141 

the present bridge at what was known as Dow's 
Ferry) ; at six we cross Passaic River (coachee and 
all) in a scoul, by means of piilling a rope fastened 
on the opposite side. '' 

But the difficulties of this primitive travel 
were forgotten when the ttirnpike era brought 
prosperity and lively communication. The 
position of Newark made it a natural gateway 
to inner New Jersey, and one enterprise led to 
another, until it became a turnpike center. The 
Newark and Hackensack bridges were built, and 
a turnpike laid between them. Business was 
stimulated, and companies of individuals began 
to build similar roads, making a profit from the 
tolls. The Newark to Pompton Turnpike 
Company was incorporated in 1806, and it 
followed the line, with few changes, of the old 
Horseneck Road which had been laid down before 
the Revolution. Also in 1806, the Mt. Pleasant 
Turnpike Company sprang into being and 
stretched its work all the way to Morristown, 
following the old Crane Road, and earlier trails, 
by way of Whippany. And still another — ^the 
Springfield and Newark Company — organized 
to build a turnpike in this eventful year. The 
Newark and Morristown Turnpike opened in 
181 1, and others followed, until this section of 
New Jersey was a network of toUgate roads, 
veining out in every direction from the thriving 

142 "West-ward 

Newark is an old city of colorful history. 
When a place comes to be associated with the 
smokestacks and dinner pails of commerce, it 
takes an agile imagination to leap back to the 
times of tomahawks and redcoats, to visualize 
a horde of swashbuckling figures descending 
upon a farmhouse where factories now stand — 
''What ho, my good woman, a draught from 
yonder dairy, and right quickly!" — or to hear 
the beating of drums in streets where trolley 
bells now clang, summoning the townsmen to 
discuss the latest Indian peril. To call up 
these times in modern Newark, one must be- 
come deaf to a roar of railroads, trolleys, and 
automobiles, blind to crowded blocks of depart- 
ment-store show windows. Armies of human 
beings, factory workers, toilers in a great indus- 
trial system, have thronged in to take the place 
of a handful of Connecticut settlers who found 
the Passaic shore a likely land some two and a 
half centuries ago. Our trip thither to-day, shot 
through a sub-river tube, discharged lightly 
a few minutes later, fairly reproaches us with 
its ease and cheapness, when we consider the 
fact that these people struggled from Con- 
necticut to New Jersey through such difficulties 
as might pertain to a long ocean voyage, and 
finally landed as worn and weary as escaped 
Huguenots or Pilgrim fathers upon long-looked- 
for shores. 

Voyage of Nei?varK Settlers 143 

Broad and Market streets meet at the center 
of Newark to-day as yesterday. Standing 
there, you can recall the fact that the intersec- 
tion of these streets was the **Four Corners'' of 
the original town, and was called so from the 
beginning. Here the settlers gathered when- 
ever any matter of importance called them forth. 
Here the dnim beating to summon them took 
place. And near here stands still the old 
Presbyterian Church which was the very pulse 
of the original settlement. 

It was in 1666 that the group from Connecti- 
cut arrived. The settlement was made much 
as colonies in our Western States are created 
nowadays; that is to say, inducements were 
offered to come in and take up land. Nowa- 
days railroads make special rates. At that time 
the colonists had to provide their own boat. 
But the fundamental principle was quite the 
same, and it interested Connecticut people, who 
always showed a tendency to pioneering. New 
Jersey was as much a pioneer country then 
as the Kansas plains were in the days of 

It was Governor Carteret who offered the 
inducements, and the dwellers of Milford, Con- 
necticut, listened with attention. Robert Treat 
was sent to look the offer over, for a shrewd 
Yankee spirit was abroad in New England even 
then. Treat reported on the land with enthusi- 

144 "West^ward 

asm, and to his iirging is credited the founding 
of Newark. 

At this time, about 1665, all the region was a 
wilderness. The only roads through it were the 
trails of Indians and of wild animals. But the 
situation appeared to Treat to be excellent, here 
on the banks of the Passaic, and thirty families 
prepared to transport themselves in a ship 
commanded by Captain Samuel Swaine. It is 
reported that when the landing was about to be 
made, great rivalry arose among the passengers 
as to who shotild first set foot upon the new 
land, and at last it was voted that the Cap- 
tain's fair daughter, Elizabeth, be given the 
privilege. Her lover, Josiah Ward, waded out 
knee-deep into the water to assist her to reach 
the land. 

According to the custom of loyal Connecticut 
Presbyterians, the first thing done in the build- 
ing of the new colony was to establish a church. 
The Rev. Abraham Pierson was the first pastor; 
fourteen others in succession have followed him. 
The church now standing is the third built 
upon this site, the first having been a little 
wooden temple, the next a simple stone structure 
erected in 171 5, and the one now standing dating 
from 1 79 1. The Rev. Aaron Burr, father of the 
statesman, was one of the famous men who held 
the pulpit in early days, and his portrait now 
hangs within the parish house. 








The Schoolhoiise at the Old Lyons Farms, where Washington Spoke to the Children. 

The Lyons Farmhouse, Said to he the Oldest House in New Jersey. 

THe Captain's Daxi^Hter 145 

This Aaron Btirr later became a founder of 
Princeton College. Dr. James Richards, an- 
other of the distingiiished line of pastors, gave 
up his church duties to become president of Au- 
burn Theological Seminary. Dr. Edward Dorr 
Griffin became president of Williams. Abraham 
Pierson was identified with Yale. Portraits, 
and a tablet, are among the memorials to early 
days, and behind the church lies the old burying- 
ground with many a familiar and honored name 
engraved upon the stones. 

They were stirring times when the residents 
of Newark — New Work was the first form of the 
name — ^gathered under the roof of this church, 
summoned by the roll of the town dnmis, to 
learn that there were signs of a new Indian 
outbreak in the air, and to discuss means of 
protection. It had been supposed that the 
Indians were settled into peace when the town 
was established, but this idea was soon dis- 
proved. The price paid them for the town was 
liberal for that day, and might have been suffi- 
cient to satisfy them, as prices went then; 
it was: 

''Fifty double hands of powder, 100 bars of 
lead, twenty axes, twenty coats, ten guns, 
twenty pistols, ten kettles, ten swords, four 
blankets, four barrels of beer, ten pairs of 
breeches, fifty knives, twenty hoes, eight hun- 
dred and fifty fathoms of wampum, two ankers 


146 Westward 

of liquors, and three troopers' coats." It has 
been pointed out by Mr. Urquhart, however, 
that in 1904 one lot near the church, a lot of 
just 100X38 feet, was sold for four hundred 
thousand dollars. 

Under the roof of this ancient and historical 
church, some of the most modern forms of 
institutional work are going forward to-day. 
In the rear of the building is a girls' lunch room, 
where for a few cents the working girl of Newark 
is provided with a wholesome lunch, and she 
may rest in a comfortable lounging room. 
Boys' clubs and a gymnasium play their part in 
the Twentieth Century scheme of things. 

On Broad Street stands picturesque old 
Trinity, younger in the city's annals than 
the ''Old First," but historic for all that. Its 
spire is the original structure, although it caps a 
building much more recent than itself. 

By turning into West Park Street, a few doors 
west of Broad you will come upon the building in 
which the New Jersey Historical Society has its 
headquarters. A large and valuable collection is 
displayed here. One of the documents on which 
the Society prides itself is the nine-foot parch- 
ment roll, signed when the Duke of York cut 
his possessions in half and gave to Lord John 
Berkeley and Sir George CaAeret all the land 
which is now the State of New Jersey, this 
parchment roll being the agreement in formal 

Ancient FarcKxnent Roll 147 

shape. The Dtike had received from his brother, 
King Charles, the royal charter for lands now 
including New York and New Jersey, and he 
handed over the latter to these gentlemen. The 
agreement was entitled, ''The Concessions and 
Agreements of the Lords Proprietors of Nova 
Caesarea or New Jersey, to and with all and every 
of the adventurers and all such as shall settle 
and plant there.'' 

The Society has a remarkably full collection of 
photographs of historic houses in New Jersey — 
an example which every State would do well to 
follow, as each year sees one or more slipping 
from the muster roll, either through final decay, 
or to make way for the erection of new buildings. 

Returning to Broad Street and following it 
north, you come to the House of Prayer, an 
Episcopal church beside which its rectory stands. 
The latter, at the corner of State Street, was 
known in other days as the old Plume home- 
stead. It was built before the Revolution, 
and at that time it was beyond the town limits, 
although the railroad now booms in its ears and 
business pushes close upon it. 

It is said that Aunt Nancy Visher Plume, as 
she was known to her friends, built the house, 
probably in 17 10. Col. John I. Plume, known 
to the War of 1 8 1 2 , was bom here. Being on the 
edge of town, it was a great stopping-place for 
soldiers when the Revolution came on, and the 

148 Westward 

story is told that in 1777 some Hessians, traiKng 
over this part of the country to see what dis- 
turbance they could cause, came across the 
hospitable farmhouse, entered, and took posses- 
sion of its comforts. There was provender in the 
barn ^ and milk in the dairy. The troopers 
flung their possessions about and made them- 
selves entirely at home, demanding cream, wood, 
everything they fancied. 

At last Mistress Plume became so indignant 
that her fear fled. Drawing herself up to all 
the feminine height she could muster, she 
faced the offenders. Oaths were foreign to her 
fair lips ; but the stress of the moment overcame 
her, and she uttered such profanity as she would 
not have believed herself capable of. 

"Ram's horn, if I die for it!'' she cried with 
rage and determination. 

Her violence amused the Hessian officer to 
such an extent that he roared with laughter, and 
ordered his men to conduct » themselves with 

The house still preserves early treasures — ^big 
fireplaces, one having the old corner cupboard 
built above it; the finely hand-carved woodwork; 
the hand-made hinges with heavy rivets; even 
hand-made nails of huge dimensions have been 
found in making repairs, and kept as mementoes 
of Mistress Plume's day. 

At the corner of Gouvernetir Street and Mt. 

Story of Mistress Plxime 149 

Pleasant Avenue stands Cockloft Hall, conven- 
iently reached from the Clinton Avenue car line. 
Clinton Avenue, by the way, is one of the oldest 
roads in Newark, being merely a broadening and 
straightening of an important Indian trail. 
The house stands two short blocks from it. It 
is withdrawn from the street, surrotmded by a 
large lawn, and is well kept. Many years ago 
Washington Irving visited it, and wrote SaU 
magundi beneath its hospitable roof. 

The house was built by the Gouverneur family 
and occupied by Gouverneur Kemble, and it was 
a famous resort for Irving, Paulding, and 
other men of letters. Irving and his friends were 
called the **Lads of Kilkenny'' and known to 
everyone around as the merriest of companies. 
The host whom Irving describes was Isaac 

Even now the place has charm enough to 
explain those passages in which the author, 
walking on the Battery, reflects upon the 
crowded staleness of the city and the delights 
of the open. 

''I all at once discovered that it was but to 
pack up my portmanteau, bid adieu for awhile 
to my elbow chair, and in a little time I should 
be transported from the region of smoke, and 
noise, and dust, to the enjoyment of a far 
sweeter prospect and a brighter sky. The 
next morning I was off full tilt to Cockloft Hall, 

150 Westward 

leaving my man Pompey to follow at his leisure 
with my baggage. . . . The Hall is pleasantly 
situated on the banks of a sweet pastoral stream; 
not so near town as to invite an inundation of 
idle acquaintance, who come to lounge away an 
afternoon, nor so distant as to render it an 
absolute deed of charity or friendship to perform 
the journey. It is one of the oldest habitations 
in the country, and was built by my cousin 
Christopher's grandfather, to form a 'snug re- 
treat, where he meant to sit himself down in 
his old days, and be comfortable for the rest of 
his life.'" 

We hardly speak of the ''sweet pastoral 
stream" which flows past commercial Newark 
in such poetical phrasing in these days, but when 
we picture the Newark of then, we can realize 
what a refuge this spot was to Irving when the 
city pressed close upon his heels. 

"To such as have not yet lost the rural feeling, 
I address this picture," concludes the author, 
"and in the honest sincerity of a warm heart I 
invite them to turn aside from bustle, care and 
toil, to tarry with me for a season, in the 
hospitable mansion of the Cocklofts. " 

A little way behind Newark, on the road to 
Elizabeth, lies old Lyons Farms. This is not 
the district known to the real-estate agent 
and the bungalow dweller as Lyons Farms to- 
day. The latter is some distance further, much 

Cochloft Hall 151 

nearer to Elizabeth. The old district, first 
claimant to the name, is reached by following 
Elizabeth Avenue to where houses begin to thin 
out and fields appear. At the corner of Chancel- 
lor Street stands one of the old Lyons Farms 

It is known now as an open-air school. Here 
is another striking instance, similar to that of 
the Presbyterian Church, of an ancient building, 
charged with our oldest United States tradi- 
tion, dedicated to the most advanced of present- 
day uses. There is a certain charm in finding an 
old building of respected lineage keeping abreast 
of the times. For the wooden predecessor of this 
little old stone schoolhouse was built in the year 
1728, when the ground on which it stands was 
purchased from the Hackensack Indians for the 
price of a quarter-pound of powder. 

It grew to have an extremely high standing as 
an institution — ^in fact, it was known as the 
finest school in the State of New Jersey. So 
strong was its reputation for thoroughness and 
advancement, that the boys who attended it 
traveled hither from remote regions, to be 
prepared for college beneath its small roof. 

This school played its part in the Revolution. 
During the brief time that Washington paused 
in Newark on his way to winter quarters in 
Morristown, he stopped here and spoke to the 
children. We can picture how those who lived 

152 Westijirard 

to grow up used to remember his words and tell 
the story to their own grandchildren. 

The building came to be a headquarters for 
public gatherings, and its yard, along with the 
surrounding fields, was used for the marshaling 
of fiye thousand soldiers, one of the largest 
bodies of those whom the State of New Jersey 
sent to the War for Independence. The little 
wooden building which originally stood on this 
spot was burned by Tory marauders, and in its 
place was erected the stone schoolhouse which 
now stands — ^Jersey brownstone is the material 
used for the stout walls. 

Modern science and sympathy have worked 
together to construct a school which shall af- 
ford opportunities for good instruction, and at 
the same time reconstruct the health of children 
who are held back because of physical handicaps. 
An open-air addition has been built at one end, 
and here the youngsters of the Twentieth Cent- 
ury work and get into mischief much as those 
of George Washington's period did. 

Standing on the height which surrounds the 
school you are within sight of the old Lyons 
farmhouse. It lies in a hollow near by. This 
building is said to be the oldest house in the 
State, dating back more than one hundred years 
before the Revolution. 

William Meeker built it about 1670, and it 
housed seven generations of the same family. 

ScHool Visited hy WasHin^ton 153 

It touched Revolutionary history many sC time, 
harboring those who took part in the war and 
receiving disturbing calls from redcoats. The 
great-great-grandson of the builder, Josiah by 
name, served, in a way, in the war, although the 
care of his aged and feeble mother prevented him 
from leaving home to enter active service at the 
front. But his assistance rendered in frequently 
carrying messages did much to help the American 

The last of the long line of descent of this 
family was William Grummon, who dwelt in the 
house during a long lifetime. His death, in 
1 9 13, brought the line to an end. The present 
dwellers have no connection with the traditions 
of the place, and the building has slipped far into 

Powles Hook, which was the natural key to 
communication with Newark and the roads 
beyond, occupied the same spot as the Jersey 
City which was incorporated in 1820. There 
are almost a dozen spellings of the Dutch-born 
name. Its chief r61e in history was played when 
''Light-Horse Harry Lee*' successfully attacked 
the British garrison stationed there in August, 

Powles Hook was a farming district until the 
year 1764, when the establishment of a ferry took 
place, and thus did the early New Yorker set out 
for the lower Jersey shore. From that time on. 

154 Westward 

business sprang up axound the ferry. A tavern 
and ferry-house in one were erected by Michael 
Cornelisson, and here the travelers across 
North River paused to gossip and regale them- 



IN the days when powdered hair towered high 
upon fair heads, when waists were wasp- 
like and stiff silks rustled; when knee-breeches 
flourished and gentlemanly hats were cocked; 
when the strains of stately minuet music floated 
from ballroom windows; when the "scarlet 
fever," as Susannah Livingston dubbed it, was 
raging among American belles, because of all the 
fascinating redcoats turned loose in our land to 
wreck property, and hearts into the bargain — ^in 
those days Elizabethtown was at its height. 

Few towns in our country's history record as 
glittering a tale of the past as does Elizabeth. 
Our national tradition is so largely composed of 
gallantly-borne hardships, of battle, persecution, 
and grimlyrwon victories, that the Elizabethan 
tales contrast with these as if they were glimpses 
of an early French court. 

In Revolutionary times this town was one of 
the leading social centers of America. To a great 


156 "Westward 

extent this was due to its being accessible from 
many directions. The highway from Newark 
opened one easy way to it from New York; the 
same road continued on to Philadelphia, and 
made it thus open to both large cities. Besides 
this, the ferry, its early means of communication 
with the outer world, was much in use, and minor 
roads led inland to minor points. 

In earliest days there was a road leading on 
past New Brtinswick, and known as ''the upper 
road.'' At times of high water this was not 
passable, as, in its course, the Raritan and the 
Delaware rivers both had to be forded. But 
in time these primitive fordings were done away 
with, the road was widened, straightened, and 
made smoother, and it was at last distinguished 
by the title of ''The King's Highway." Along 
this Highway social life flowed for many years. 

Elizabeth is fortunate in preserving a number 
of the old houses which are strongly associated 
with its early and sparkling history. In and 
about East Jersey Street you will find yourself 
in the midst of one of the most aristocratic 
residence sections of any of the New Jersey 

At No. 1 105 East Jersey Street you will see a 
doctor's sign of the Twentieth Centtiry hanging 
before an old and dignified door. This house, of 
good old colonial pattern, is the residence which 
Dr. William Barnet, that famously testy old 

A Pill or a Scolding 157 

physician, built in 1763, and which later became 
famous as the home of General Winfield Scott. 

Dr. Barnet, its first occupant, was a surgeon 
in the American army during the War of Inde- 
pendence, and is said to have been the man who 
introduced vaccination into the town of Eliza- 
beth, a matter of great importance in those days, 
because of the prevalence of smallpox. Dr. 
Barnet was so quick-tempered, tradition has it, 
that no patient could be sure in visiting him 
whether he would receive a pill, a scolding, or 
even a box on the ear — ^the latter, if Barnet 
believed the patient's ailment to be imaginary. 

During 1781, when the British ran riot here- 
abouts, the doctor's house was pltmdered. It 
is recorded that he said indignantly: ''They 
emptied my feather beds in the street, broke in 
windows, smashed my mirrors, and left our pan- 
try and storeroom department bare. I could 
forgive them all, but that the rascals stole from 
my kitchen wall the finest string of red peppers 
in all Elizabethtown. " 

Later, Colonel Mayo bought the place, and his 
daughter became the bride of Lieut.-Gen. Win- 
field Scott. This was about the time that the 
eighteen-hundreds were ushered in. The first 
years of the young woman's married life were 
spent there happily with her husband; then 
followed the dark years when he was away at 
war. At last this cloudy period was over, and the 

158 Westward 

General came home for good, to spend his quiet 
years in a well-earned rest. The house, called 
Hampton Place, was conducted like a genuine 
old-time southern home (Elizabeth was a great 
summer resort for Southerners at that time), and 
it is said that General Scott was uncomfortable 
if he ever sat down to his dinner table without a 
guest. He was a Virginian of the old school, and 
Hampton Place was, in spirit, a Virginia home. 

A little beyond, at No. 1073 in this street, 
is a house which appears plain enough at first 
glance, neither modern nor old in pattern; a sec- 
ond glance reveals the fact that old walls end 
at the top of the second story, and two newer 
stories have been added on. This is now the 
Home for Aged Women, but the brilliant old 
days knew it as Boxwood Hall, or the Boudinot 
mansion, one of the most aristocratic dwellings 
in the street. 

If you will ring the bell and let a charmingly 
quaint little old lady show you in, you can see the 
fine broad hall, the spacious rooms, the old 
fireplaces which were there probably as early 
as the year 1750. The family brought carved 
mantels from France to adorn their home; they 
furnished in a manner which was accounted 
lavish in that period, and it is said that Washing- 
ton himself once expressed great admiration for 
the house decorations when visiting there. 

Samuel Woodruff came first, then the residence 

The Old Fort, Elizabeth, Built in 1/34. 

The Old Chateau in Elizabeth, the Home of Cavalier Jouet. 


The First Presbyterian Church, Elizabeth, Built in 1/84. The 
Origin il Building was Burnt by the British. 

House in Elizabeth, where General Winfield Scott Lived. 

Redcoats at Doxiwood Hall 159 

passed into the hands of Elias Boudinot-, who 
dwelt in it during the Revolution. He was 
President of the Continental Congress, and, in 
that capacity, signed the treaty of peace with 
Great Britain. He gave the house its never-to- 
be-forgotten name of Boxwood Hall by planting 
a great number of boxwoods around it; these 
are now dead, but their tradition remains. 

Many famous visitors were entertained at this 
home. In 1789 Washington stopped here on his 
way to the ceremonies of his inauguration. He 
met a committee of Congress and lunched in the 
great dining-room. It was at the Livingston 
home, by the way, that Mrs. Washington stopped 
on her way to join her husband during these same 
festivities ; this was Liberty Hall, on the other side 
of town. Years later, when Jonathan Dajrton lived 
at Boxwood he entertained Lafayette — ^in 1834. 

During the war. Boxwood Hall was levied on 
by a party of redcoats, and the daughter Susan 
held her own in quick retort to the commanding 
officer. One of the members of the household 
had asked for British protection, she indignantly 
reminded him. 

"It was not by your advice, I presume," he 
replied, and her fearless answer faced him: 

''That it never was, I can tell you.*' 

She was known to her father as his "little 
lamb, *' a name given in a mood of affectionate 
paternal satire. 

i6o "West^ward 

This daughter of the Boudinots, with her 
swift-blooded French descent, — one of the old 
Huguenot families they were, fleeing to our 
land after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes 
— ^married and lived to become one of the 
famously brilliant women who surrounded the 
President's wife in Philadelphia, when it was 
the seat of our government. During the war, 
the Hon. Elias Boudinot spent much time in 
Philadelphia, but he settled down for a period 
of rest afterwards, among his boxwoods. He 
finally moved to Philadelphia, and the house 
fell into other hands; it has had various private 
occupants, has been a young ladies' boarding 
school, and is now a home for the aged. Its 
best-known occupants were the first, Samuel 
Woodruff, member of the board of aldermen, 
the mayor, and a trustee of the College of New 
Jersey; Boudinot himself; andlQeneral Dayton, 
prominent in Congress, and an early United 
States Senator from New Jersey^ 

A famous incident connected with the history 
of the building is that the slain body of Parson 
Caldwell, the ''Fighting Parson*' of the Presby- 
terian Church, was placed on view on the steps in 
front of the house. The funeral was held here 
and an address was made by Boudinot. 

Across the street and a few doors beyond, at 
the southwest corner of Catherine Street, is a 
house now known as ' ' the Dix home. ' ' This was 

''Ripening for Heaven** i6i 

the home of Governor Jonathan Belchfer, so 
renowned for his saintliness that Whitefield said 
of him, ''He is ripening for Heaven apace." 
This is a most interesting statement to reflect 
upon, as applied to a distinguished occupant of a 
high poHtical position. But the fact that this 
saintly and esteemed gentleman dwelt here seems 
to hold a minor place in popular history, com- 
pared with the fact that perhaps the most 
brilliant wedding of the Revolution took place 
within these walls. 

It meant bravery to give a consjiicuous social 
function in those times, for the redcoats took it 
upon themselves to raid and make all sorts of 
trouble wherever they heard of such affairs 
going on. But when Miss "Caty" Smith, the 
daughter of William Peartree Smith, was to be 
married — although it was the troublous year 
1778 — ^it was determined that the Belcher house, 
where the ceremony was to be held, should be as 
gay as possible, and let the redcoats do their 
best to spoil the fun! ''Caty" was to be mar- 
ried to young Boudinot, so the wedding was a 
great event in every way, and the most dis- 
tinguished of Americans were to be present. 

The great day came and the guests assembled. 
No less a person than Alexander Hamilton was 
master of ceremonies, Washington and Lafay- 
ette were guests. The lights poured forth into 
the quiet street, music and voices rang, the 


1 62 W^est-ward 

gayety reached an unprecedented height. Any 
nervousness which may have been felt at 
first, passed as the hours went by without 

But a fortnight later the price of festivity was 
paid. _ A party of British soldiers, having heard 
of the affair, came to the house; finding the 
young husband absent, they raided, destroying 
the furniture and many valuable family portraits 
in a wanton manner. The poor young bride was 
so terrified that she could not remain in the 
house, and her husband was obliged to build a 
new home for her in Newark. 

The house where all these events took place 
is unusually well preserved. Its carved mantel 
is one of the old features; the original narrow 
staircase with its newel post fixed by a wooden 
peg is in evidence; the corner cupboard of 
Governor Belcher, now brought down to the 
dining-room from his upstairs study; the ancient 
lock, with its huge key of early pattern; and 
great hinges spreading entirely across the front 
doors. Old Dutch tiles showing views of Hol- 
land scenery in blue on white rival the Biblical 
Dutch tiles of Boxwood Hall across the street. 

Not far from this haughty old residence dis- 
trict is a humble little byway known as ''Thomp- 
son's Lane." Just near Bridge Street, in this 
Lane, is the old fort, built in 1734 by Captain 
John Hunloke. It is modest in appearance, but 

THe Hetfield House 163 

examination reveals stout walls, ready to face 
the enemy. 

Follow a little way along Bridge Street, trace 
Pearl Street to its foot, near the Elizabeth River, 
and you will come to the oldest house in the city. 
It is known as the Hetfield house, a dreary little 
structure to-day, in a lonely spot and a dismal 
district. But its supposed date of 1682 is 
enough to give it interest. There is a tradition 
that early councils between the whites and the 
Indians were held within these walls, which have 
evidently been considerably rebuilt since those 
days. The property was conveyed by Lubber- 
son to Matthias Heathfield, who passed it on to 
his descendants. 

Returning to Broad Street, you will find the 
old First Presbyterian Church, where the famous 
''Fighting Parson'' Caldwell preached soon 
after he was ordained. The parish was one of 
the earliest in New Jersey, having been organized 
in 1664. In 1780, when times were stirring in 
Elizabethtown, and the homes of Americans were 
being raided, the church was burned down. But 
the site was retained, and in 1784 the Presby- 
terians rebuilt here. The spire and clock are 
visible for a long distance. 

A side trip to 408 Rahway Avenue brings you 
to the old chateau, the Jouet hotise of history. It 
stands well back from the street and high above 
the sidewalk, a long, broad walk stretching up 

164 Westward 

through the sweep of lawn to its door. Large 
trees shade it. Old-fashioned shutters protect 
the windows. 

This estate belonged to Cavalier Jouet, a de- 
scendant of Daniel Jouet, the mayor of Angers in 
France; and of Marie Cavalier, who was a sister 
of Jean Cavalier, the famous ''Camisard. '■ 
During the time of Louis XIV he was the hero 
of the wars of the Cevennes. 

Cavalier Jouet sided with the British during 
the Revolution, and was ardent in his Toryism 
with the ardor of his French blood. His prop- 
erty was confiscated. But for all its adventures 
and misadventures, the old house still remains in 
good preservation. 

Liberty Hall is to be found by making still 
another side trip, in the direction of the Morris 
Turnpike. This was the mansion of William 
Livingston, the distinguished Revolutionary gov- 
ernor of New Jersey. The spirit of the house 
gave it the name of Liberty Hall during that 
period, and it is still known as that. 

The brilliant trio of daughters, Sarah, Susan, 
and Kitty, did as much as the governor himself 
to make the Livingston home famous. The 
father, despite his distinction as lawyer, states- 
man, and patriot, prided himself on being a simple 
Jersey farmer, but the three young ladies caused 
the house to be a headquarters for continuous 

"Strawberry Tea" 165 

Sarah, the eldest, was a renowned beauty, and 
so wonderf 111 was her complexion that a wager as 
to its honesty was laid between the French 
minister and Don Juan de Miralles. The 
latter, vowing that only art could produce such 
coloring, insisted upon a test — and lost. This 
was when Sarah was in France, where she excited 
the admiration of Marie Antoinette. 

The next daughter, Susan, or Susannah, was a 
mischief and a wit. She it was who, being for- 
bidden by her father to drink tea after the tax 
was imposed, took to a beverage which she slyly 
brewed her self, and told him was merely ''straw- 
berry tea. ' ' It appeared to be a fruity drink, but in 
fact it was the prohibited herb, which she colored 
with strawberry juice to deceive her stern parent. 

It was in the latter part of 1779 that this 
same Susannah performed her great feat of fool- 
ing a group of British soldiers. Two regiments, 
one thousand strong, had come to town with the 
intent to capture her father, and they approached 
the house late at night, thinking to take him in 
bed. He had left the house before their arrival, 
but the first division forced an entrance and 
demanded the Governor's dispatch^. Only 
Susannah was ready to meet the emergency. 
She led them through the rooms while they 
searched every comer for the papers; at last they 
paused before a small secretary where, in fact, 
the papers were. 

1 66 West-ward 

At this she broke into a nervous tremor. 
With downcast looks she begged the officer not 
to open this particular desk. Her love letters 
were within, she gave him to understand, and 
never did an embarrassed maiden play the r61e 
more blushingly. If they would leave her little 
secrets unseen and untouched, she would lead 
them to her father's dispatches, she promised at 
last; and the British fully believed her fib. 

She then conducted them to another spot, 
took down some wrapped and tied papers, and 
turned them over. ' The raiders gleefully stuffed 
them into the forage bags and made off, not 
learning until some time afterward that all they 
had for booty was a bundle of old law briefs, as 
worthless to them as blank paper. 

In 1774 Sarah was married in the parlor of this 
house to John Jay. Years later Susannah's 
daughter eloped from a window with William 
Henry Harrison, who became the ninth Presi- 
dent of the United States. Often the dwelling 
sheltered troops. When the British were forag- 
ing in the vicinity, the Livingstons had to desert 
the house. After the war was over Mrs. Wash- 
ington stopped here on her way to her husband's 
inauguration festivities. These are but a few 
of the many traditions connected with the house. 

In 1 9 14 the inhabitants of Elizabeth celebrated 
the town's two-hundred-and-fiftieth birthday. 
Not many years before this a record showed 

Trade in Peltries 167 

that there were over forty houses there, built 
prior to the Revolution, and the number had 
not greatly diminished at the time of the 

In 1609 the first old-world eye discovered the 
spot on which the town was built later; this was 
three days before the Half -Moon cast anchor in 
Sandy Hook Bay. A party explored the region, 
saw Indians, and found that there was a fine 
opening for a trade in peltries. This trade was 
opened with Holland, Manhattan being the 
means of commimication ; from Manhattan the 
Dutch merchants came to traffic with the natives 
for the fine skins they had captured. Later the 
spot became a Dutch colony. But Elizabeth- 
town was not created until 1664; people came 
thither from Long Island, others from Con- 
necticut, and a permanent settlement was 
established, the first in New Jersey. 

A deed was executed by Mattano and other 
Indian chiefs, conveying all the land from the 
Raritan River north to the Passaic, and twice 
as great a stretch from east to west. The Gov- 
ernor confirmed the deed by a separate grant; 
dwellings began to rise. The earliest portion 
of the town lay along the river. 

Sir George Carteret, one of the proprietors, 
had a wife Elizabeth, and from her the town 
got its name. Philip Carteret was appointed 
Governor; and it is told of him after his appoint- 

1 68 Westward 

ment he walked up from the landing place 
through the street carrying a hoe across his 
shoulder, to prove his pledge, that he would 
become a planter along with the settlers. 

The town grew to importance. In 1747 
Princeton College was opened here, Jonathan 
Dickinson being at its head. It was later 
moved to Newark, when he died. 

And so Elizabethtown passed on to the bril- 
liancy of social life which was at its height during 
the war period, although there were Revolution- 
ary troubles to cast a shadow over its gayety. 
The Battle of Elizabethtown took place on June 
8, 1780, the English and Hessians being repulsed 
by the citizens; on the site stands a statue of the 
Minute-Man, at Union Square. Raids were 
frequent. But after the war, the town once more 
resumed its gayety without check. Much stir 
accompanied the first inauguration, and from 
here Washington crossed on his way to the 
ceremony, by the ferry near the foot of Elizabeth 

Continuing on along the old turnpike from 
Elizabethtown, we come to Rahway, known to 
early history as Spank Town. Here a battle 
was fought during the Revolution — a battle only 
two hours long, but worth remembering as the 
last engagement of the Americans with the 
enemy when the latter was driven out of New 
Jersey, with the exception of Amboy and New 

MarsK*8 Saiw-mill 169 

Brunswick, after their defeat at Trenton* and 
Princeton in 1777. 

Rahway's first saw-mill was btiilt on the south 
side of the river in 1683, just above the railroad 
bridge of modem years. The following document 
records its establishment: 

"A meeting of ye Inhabitants of Elizabeth- 
town, June ye 25, 1683: Voted that John Marsh 
have Liberty and Consent from ye towne soe far 
as they are concerned to gett timber to saw at 
his Saw-mill upon Land not Surveyed, lying upon 
Rawhay River or ye branches or elsewheare, so 
far as he shall have occasion to fetch timber 
for ye above mill. 

*'And the said John Marsh doth pledge him- 
self to ye inhabitants of ye towne to saw for them 
Logs if they bring them to ye mill, one-half of ye 
boards or timber for sawing the other, that is so 
much as is for their particular use. *' 

David Oliver was one of the early landowners 
at Rahway, and his son, David Oliver, 2d, be- 
came a notorious Tory and refugee, and his 
name is connected with the annals of the town. 
An accoimt in the New Jersey Journal of 1782 
tells of his adventtrre the week before, when, 
along with a band of refugees from Staten 
Island^ he attempted to carry off cattle from 
Elizabethtown. The party took a gunboat 
for the raid, and proceeded to the mouth of 
Elizabethtown Creek. They were waylaid by 

170 Westward 

a party under Captain Jonathan Dayton, who 
had been informed of their move and was 
lying in wait for them. In the skirmish some 
of the refugees were shot, some captured; 
Oliver escaped to Rahway, where he was taken 
later, in the night. He flourished under the 
popular appellation of ''the dread of the 
inhabitants on the lines." 

Another turnpike, forking from Elizabeth- 
town, used to lead to Woodbridge. This was 
one of the oldest townships in Middlesex County, 
its charter being dated June i, 1669. It was a 
peaceful, law-abiding community, with whose 
growth were identified some Puritans from New 
England, and many Quakers — ^the town came 
to be a headquarters for the Friends' Church. 
A glimpse of the thrifty, prosperous life of 
early dwellers in Woodbridge is caught in this 
quotation from Denton's Brief Description: 

''Nature had furnished the country with all 
sorts of wild beasts and fowl, which gave them 
their food and much of their clothing. Fat veni- 
son, turkeys, geese, heath-hens, cranes, swans, 
ducks, pigeons and the Hke. The streams 
abounded with fish, etc. Here you need not 
trouble the shambles for meat, nor bakers and 
brewers for beer and bread, nor run to a linen- 
draper for a supply, everyone making their own 
linen and a great part of their woolen cloth for 
their ordinary wearing. Here one may . . . travel 

Evolution of Pri^more's Si^amp 171 

• . . and if one chance to meet with an Indian 
town they shall give him the best entertainment 
they have, and upon his desire direct him on his 

Returning to the main road running south 
from Elizabethtown and Rahway, the old Middle- 
sex SLXid Essex Turnpike, you continue to New 
Brunswick. This town was at one time Inians' 
Ferry, named for one John Inians; previous to 
this, during the Seventeenth Century, it had 
been Prigmore's Swamp. The first inhabitant is 
said to have been Daniel Cooper who kept a 
ferry, his home being at the point where the 
post road of later years crossed the river. About 
the year 1730 a group of Dutch families from 
Albany, New York, arrived here, built them- 
selves houses from the^ building materials they 
brought along with them, and named the road 
upon which these houses fronted, ''Albany 
Street." The settlement now began to wear 
the appearance of a budding village. 

It continued to grow, and at the time of the 
Revolution was a town of importance. Its 
history during that war was full of distress, for 
New Brunswick lay in the path of both armies 
as they repeatedly crossed back and forth through 
the State. It passed from the hands of the 
Americans into the hands of the enemy, and 
during the winter of 1776-77 it was occupied 
by the British, under Cornwallis. 

172 Westward 

Here the enemy made themselves at home for 
a long stay. Howe himself had headquarters 
in Burnet Street, in the home of Neilson. The 
Hessian commander was in the Van Ntiise house 
in Queen Street. A post was erected at Raritan 
landing, another on Bennet's Island, two miles 
below the city; there were fortifications built 
on the hill beyond the theological seminary; 
British officers took and occupied the houses of 
citizens here and there; and the encampment 
was made on William Van Detirsen's property, 
below New Street. 

For six months the British owned the town, 
and the citizens were subjected to all the misery 
of such a situation. All their schools, chtirches, 
and business had to be closed, many had to sur- 
render their homes, barns in the surrounding 
cotmtry were torn down to furnish timber for 
a temporary bridge across the river, and the 
farmers were compelled to hand over their stores 
to the greedy enemy. But although the period 
of occupancy caused great suffering among the 
American citizens, the British were not left in 

Several American officers with high-spirited 
patriots tmder them caused the British consider- 
able disttirbance. At one time, during the latter 
part of the winter, the enemy became cut off 
from supplies, the base being at Amboy. They 
looked for relief from a fleet loaded with pro- 

Captain Hxler^s Expeditions 173 

visions, which it was planned to send up* the 
Raritan River. But the Americans planted a 
battery of six cannon on the shore, and just as 
the fleet was rounding the point in the morning 
the cannon opened fire — ^to the end that five 
boats were disabled and sunk, the remainder 
sent back, a sadder and a wiser fleet, to Amboy. 

Captain Hyler, famous for his gallant, adven- 
turous spirit, commanded several large whale- 
boats, and a gtmboat, the Defiance. He made a 
business of troubling the enemy's trading- vessels 
and plundering parties, going forth to any spot 
where he knew them to be — off Sandy Hook, 
near Staten Island, down the Raritan, and so 
on. One of his excursions resulted in the capture 
of five vessels in a quarter-hour's work. 

And so, by skirmishing with the British out- 
posts about New Brunswick, by interfering with 
their supplies, by meeting and driving back 
their foraging parties emerging from the town, 
several American officers caused this half-year 
to be one of not undisturbed peace to Howe and 



IF we had the eyes to look along a certain New 
Jersey road and see emerging from the cloud 
of dust, not a thirty-horse-power, wind-shielded 
scarlet machine of to-day, but a totally different 
type of vehicle, we might travel along that same 
road to Yesterday. The vehicle of the imag- 
ination is of quaint construction, both broad 
and high, mounted upon wide straps of leather 
and swinging freely with an easy, ship-like 
motion. Its vigorous driver is cracking his whip 
over hurrying horses' heads. Some centtiry 
ago the ancient stagecoach plied the old New 
Jersey road to Westfield, and to Plainfield, and 

Both were changing points for the stage horses 
in the early eighteen-hundreds — points at which 
halts were made before going into the deeper 
country and on to more remote towns. In fact 
it was not until 1838 that the mails in that 
direction were carried by railroad as far as 


The Hetfield House, the Oldest House in Elizabeth, Built about 1682. 

House at South Bound Brook, where BaroJt Steuben had Quarters and Entertained 


Mounted Cannon on Washington's Camp Ground above Bound Brook. 

The Battle Monument at Bound Brook, on the Site of the Battle of 1777. 

Roxite of the Old CoacK 173 

Plainfield, and even then the stage had still to 
carry them to points beyond for a number of 
years. The most traveled local roads before 
1800 were one from Qtiibbleton (now New 
Market) to Scotch Plains, and a road to Rah- 
way, beginning at a point near where Peace 
Street now is. Common roads interwove among 
the towns in this direction, connecting them 
with Elizabeth and Newark more or less directly. 
To-day the trolley passes from Westfield through 
Scotch Plains, Plainfield, and Bound Brook, sug- 
gesting the route of the old coach which al- 
ternately rocked and lurched the traveler of a 
century ago. 

Westfield is an old town, having been laid 
out as the western field of the borough of Eliza- 
beth about the year 1720. The early settlers 
were much disturbed by Indians, and there were 
several more or less serious frays with them, 
until the French war drew the peace-disttirbers 
to Canada. The early history of the town and 
surroundings abounds in woes; not only were 
Indians thick, but wolves as well, to such an 
extent that a bounty of thirty shillings was 
offered for the death of a wolf. And a report 
from Ash Swamp, Short Hills, in 1750, states: 
''About ten days ago a shower of hail as big as 
hens' eggs destroyed fields of wheat and corn, 
limbs of trees broke to pieces, and of birds and 
fowls scarce one was saved." The heaping-up 

176 West-ward 

of troubles recalls the history of bleeding 
Kansas later on. 

But there is a brighter side to Westfield lore. 
It surrounds the merry inn kept by Charles 
Oilman, on the main street opposite the road 
to Rahway. It was known as "The Stage 
House '' and was famed throughout the surround- 
ing country as a headquarters for most genial 
company. It acquired a special reputation for 
its flip, a favorite beverage of that period, for 
which Clayton gives the following recipe: 

'*A quart jug nearly filled with malt-beer, 
sweetened, a red-hot poker being thrust into 
the liquid and kept there until a foam is pro- 
duced, when a half-pint of rum is poured in 
and some nutmeg grated upon it/' 

Mr. Oilman, in his blue coat with brass but- 
tons, welcomed all travelers at the door, invited 
them in to a mug of flip at the price of three pence, 
and a meal of beans, cabbage, corn-bread, and 
bacon at 35. 6d. So familiar and well-loved was 
his figure that upon his passing away a bard sang, 
in paraphrase of the lines on ''Old Crimes, " 

Old Oilman is dead, that gcx)d old man, 

We ne'er shall see him more; 
He used to wear a long blue coat 

All buttoned down before. 

Upon his demise his widow assumed charge of 
the hostelry and became known as Aunt Polly 

QuaKers Afoot and AHorsebacK 177 

Oilman. The inn has long since been removed 
and only its tradition remains. 

Assuming that you are a traveler aboard the 
rolling old vehicle of a century ago, and that 
you are continuing along a dusty road into 
Plainfield of yesterday; and that the coach has 
halted for a change of horses and refreshments at 
some old inn with its swinging sign -board; you 
may dismount and have a look at several historic 

Most familiar of all is the Quaker Church. 
The trolley of to-day enters the town near 
where this old gray building stands, at the 
corner of Watchung Street and North Avenue. 
Its sign reads: ''1788. Religious Society of 
Friends. Public Worship First Day at 11 a.m., 
Fourth Day Evening 7: 45. All are welcome." 

At the svmimons of this simple and welcoming 
sign did the early-day Quakers come plodding 
for worship every First Day, some afoot from 
farms miles away, some riding on horseback, 
some, the older members of the families, en- 
throned upon the seat of chaise or gig. They 
had settled all through this region, clearing the 
virgin forest and building houses of the timber 
which they hewed. Their headquarters had 
been at Woodbridge, but so remote were some of 
the homes from that center that they estab- 
lished a meeting at Plainfield, and in 1787 it was 
agreed that a house of worship should be built. 

178 Westward 

All of this portion of New Jersey is strongly 
identified with the history of the Quaker Chtirch 
in America, and the Friends are the foundation 
stones of much of the prosperity and soundness 
that has made the State. Their first step was 
always to clear the forests and build themselves 
homes; the instinct of substantial and con- 
servative home-builditig was like that of the 
Dutch. Pioneering with both of these groups 
was pioneering for the sake of a base, and 
was rarely touched by the spirit of adventure, 
although adventure was often forced upon them. 

From the original headquarters at Wood- 
bridge, ramifications of Quakerdom stretched. 
Here, there, everywhere, Quaker farmhouses 
sprang up; firmly constructed, firmly adhered to. 
Men hewed wood and broke ground; women 
knitted, wove cloth of their own spinning, plied 
all the household arts of that day, such as the 
making of soap, candles, and cheese. 

About the period of 1787, when it was decided 
that Plainfield must become a new center, this 
town was merely a slightly settled rural district. 
It consisted of a few scattered houses, a mill, and 
a school, grouped near a cross-road. After much 
debate it was decided to purchase three acres of 
land near the house of John Webster, 3d, and 
start a meeting here. A house of thirty-four 
by forty-eight feet was arranged for, and upwards 
of three himdred poimds was subscribed. The 

TKe Q\iaKer Cemetery 179 

Friends, who had begun to settle in Plainfield 
township almost seventy years before, and had 
struggled through the hardships of the war period, 
now had a comfortable and restful spot for their 
Sabbath pilgrimage's end, and from that day 
on they have maintained their services in the 
sturdy old building which those three hundred 
pounds started. 

Adjoining the building is to be seen the simple 
little cemetery. There are no imposing head- 
stones or ornate monuments — only the plainest 
stones, a mere record of the bare fact of death. 
Not a lot is to be had for money — according 
to tradition, a resting-spot for the dead is 
always freely given. 

A short walk beyond this old Quaker head- 
quarters is the center of the original town — ^the 
corner of Front and Somerset streets. Here, at 
the beginning of the last century, a popula- 
tion of 215 persons centered; here they hailed 
the news brought in by the stages; and here they 
discussed this news between the stages' visits, 
while eagerly awaiting more. Three times a 
week the ''Swiftsure" line sent a vehicle be- 
tween New York and Philadelphia, and we can 
picture the Plainfielders of that day gather- 
ing in the store of Thomas Nesbit, later of 
John Pitz Randolph, and exchanging gossip 
and comment with feet aloft, while the store- 
keeper bartered his *'dry goods, groceries, boots 

i8o liVestward 

and shoes" for "skines, furs, tallow, wax and 

On this corner stood the store; just around 
the corner stood. the ancient mill which was 
the very nucleus of ''Mill Town" as the original 
Plainfield was called. Here ran the brook just 
as it runs now, and here, in 1755, was built the 
original mill whither the farmers brought their 
grists from miles around of fertile farming land. 
The mill changed hands a number of times, and 
was rebuilt in 1853, but the lineal descendant of 
the first building, now in itself a very old mill, 
stands back from Somerset Street, just around 
the corner from Front Street, on the right-hand 
side. It is used as a barn, and stands behind 
the garage, on the property of Mr. French; it 
may be recognized by its bright green paint. 
The old landmark is preserved in excellent 
condition, and a few steps up the poplar lane will 
lead you where you can observe it, and get a 
glimpse of the brook which once ran its wheel. 

Around here once clustered many an old 
log house. The mill property in old days in- 
cluded not only a grist-mill, but a saw-mill, a 
dder-mill, and a distillery as well. Moreover, 
several hundred hogs disported themselves in a 
hog yard, which fact, although adding nothing 
to the poetry or picturesqueness of history, adds 
interest to the commercial beginnings of this 
enterprising town. 

An Earlx Circus i8i 

That Plainfield was a stirring center for d,ll the 
life of this section is witnessed by the account of 
a local historian, who recalls that it was the 
general show place for early circuses traveling 
through this part of New Jersey. He has 
preserved one of the dodgers of such an entertain- 
ment, dated October 22, 1835. It announced 
that a ''Menagerie and Aviary will be exhibited 
in this village on Tuesday the 3rd of November 
next, the largest collection of animals ever 
exhibited in this place, embracing 2 Elephants, 
Camels, Lions, Tigers, Bears, Panthers, Wolves, 
I Rhinocerous, weighing upwards of 5000 pounds. 
The Menagerie and Aviary occupies 36 spacious 
Carriages, Waggons &c., and are drawn by 112 
splendid gray horses — ^and 60 men (including 
14 musicians) are required to complete its 

A modern building of interest in Plainfield 
is the Job Male Library. Its scrapbook records 
of local history are entertaining and of value. 
It possesses a fine collection of Japanese 
porcelains and cloisonn6 made by F. X. 

Continuing in the direction of the old stage, 
you turn toward Bound Brook. On the way 
thither there is a fine side trip for the pedestrian 
or motorist to Washington Rock. The distance 
of the rock from the nearest trolley point is 
about two miles, across the valley and up the 

1 82 Westward 

mountain side toward your right. Another side 
trip from the town of Plainfield is to North 
Plainfield, where a provincial hotel of old pattern 
stands, known as "Washington's Headquarters/^ 
It has the upper and lower verandas and sloping 
roof with two end chimneys of old design. Wash- 
ington is said to have stayed here during some 
of the time that the army was encamped near 
Bound Brook. 

To reach the rock, you must approach the 
mountains from Dunellen. It stands solitary 
on the brow of the hill, and has come to be a 
popular spot for picnickers, offering a magni- 
ficent view and many woodsy rambles near by. 

Historically, it is one of the most important 
points hereabouts, and the trip lies over attrac- 
tive country roads, gradually mounting to 
wooded slopes, achieving at last the wonderful 
summit, the superb outlook from which our 
great General watched so often the movements of 
the enemy during the hard period of early 1777. 
From the twenty-eighth of May in that year 
until the middle or end of June, Washington, 
retired to this rock day after day, watching, 
sweeping with his powerful telescope all the re- 
gion for a circuit of sixty miles. The elevation 
of this remarkable rock is about four hundred 
feet above sea level; in itself it is twenty-five 
feet high, and its curious projection makes it 
a most unique lookout point. To the left, on a 

"WasHin^ton near Plainfield 183 

clear day, the view reaches as far as the New 
York City skyscrapers and the bay; includes 
the towns of Rahway, Elizabeth, Newark, and 
New Brighton. To the right. New Brunswick is 
seen, and the heights of Trenton and Princeton. 
Fronting one are the bays of Amboy and Raritan. 
The heights of far-off Navesink and the plains 
of Monmouth intervening lie to the southeast. 
This is the panorama which lay, map-like and 
clear, before Washington. 

Many a gloomy hour did the General pass upon 
this height as he scanned the war's prospect. 
He had broken the winter camp at Morristown 
after the frightful months of terrific hardships 
and cold, and had moved it to this vicinity. The 
victories at Trenton and at Princeton had not been 
sufficient to put new heart into the Americans, 
for the depression caused by Stirling's defeat on 
Long Island, by the conquests of Fort Washing- 
ton and Fort Lee, by the retreat of Washington 
across New Jersey, could not yet be overcome 
in spirit. Washington knew now, as summer 
approached, that the possession of Philadelphia 
was Howe's fixed purpose, and there must have 
been many a day when he feared the outcome 
in spite of his resolute efforts. From the rock 
he looked over upon the British camp at New 
Brunswick and faced facts — not encouraging 
facts. On the night of June 13th Howe led his 
troops from this camp toward Somerville, mean- 

1 84 Westijvard 

ing to cross the Delaware and proceed to Phila- 
delphia. Perhaps his ultimate downfall was 
due to the vision, both physical and mental, 
which this solitary, withdrawn lookout spot 
afforded the American leader. 

Almost a half century ago a montiment was 
placed upon this rock, and in 191 2 a new one was 
erected — ^from a central cairn of rough stone 
a flagstaff rises, a gilded eagle surmounting 
the staff. 

Turning back to the Bound Brook road, you 
will enter Main Street of that town and come 
upon its battle monument in the middle of the 
street. "This stone marks the site of the 
Battle of Bound Brook fought April 13, 1777, 
between 500 American soldiers under General 
Benjamin Lincoln and 4000 British troops under 
Lord Comwallis, '' is the inscription. That in 
brief tells the story of a sharp skirmish which 
gave this village a position of some importance 
in Revolutionary history. 

Lincoln, whose quarters were at the other 
end of the village in the only two-story house it 
possessed, was stationed here on the Raritan 
River with an extent of five or six miles to guard 
and a force of even less than five hundred men 
fit for duty. On the thirteenth of April, owing 
to the negligence of his patrol, ran his statement, 
he was surprised by a large party of the enemy 
under Cornwallis and Grant, who came upon 

TKe La Tourette House 185 

him so suddenly that the General and one of his 
aides had barely time to get on horseback; the 
other side was taken, as were also a few pieces of 
artillery. Lincoln was obliged to retreat after a 
struggle; terrified by the overwhelming British 
force, every inhabitant of Bound Brook took to 
his heels *and fled to the mountains. One dead 
soldier remained, a poor chap who had been shot 
down in the blockhouse; he was the only Ameri- 
can left in the village. 

This town has for long years boasted of many 
fine old houses, dwellings of the Revolutionary 
period and earlier; but of late they have been 
melting away to make room for modern residence 
and business btdldings. However, one of the 
most interesting of all still stands in excellent 
preservation — ^the ''La Tourette House'' it is 
familiarly called. Leaving the monument and 
turning toward the river, you can cross the bridge 
to South Bound Brook; where streets fork at this 
point, choose the left, follow it for almost a mile, 
and you will suddenly come within sight of a 
fine old farmhouse with spreading lawn, smother- 
ing vines, and sloping roof, its walls painted a 
deep cream color. It looks substantial enough 
for the wear-and-tear of many years to come, 
and it was erected by Abraham Staats in 
pre-Revolutionary days. 

The old hand-made shingles still sturdily pro- 
tect the firm walls, and within are preserved 

i86 Westward 

many pieces of old ftirniture and other relics 
of the seventeen-hundreds. This is the house 
in which Baron Steuben had his winter quar- 
ters in 1778 and 1779. Here he debated many 
a vital matter of generalship, conferred with 
other officers, gave orders, and accomplished 
vast and important work. Here could be seen 
his diamond-set medal of gold, a gift from his 
Prussian king, Frederick the Great, designating 
the order of ''Fidelity." 

The serious side of life and war was only one 
phase of this house's spirit during those months. 
Baron Steuben entertained frequently and de- 
lightfully, and the most distinguished Ameri- 
cans, including General and Mrs. Washington, 
were his guests. Just before the encampment of 
Middlebrook was broken up in June of 1779, the 
Baron wound up festivities by a magnificent 
entertainment to the American officers, for which 
tables were spread in the grove surrounding 
the house, and great was the revelry in what 
is now the retired and quiet La Tourette 

I At the far end of Bound Brook lies the camp 
ground of Washington. It is this town's proud- 
est historic feature; it has been marked by a 
flag and mounted cannon, and here the towns- 
people assemble on every safe-and-sane Fourth 
of July for their patriotic orations combined 
with lemonade and crackerjack. Even beneath 

The Monument and Tablet on Washington's Rock, Plain field. 
Photograph by Collier. 

The Quaker Church in Plainfield, Built in 1788. 

The Washington Headquarters, Morristown. 

The Wick House on the Old Jockey Hollow Road, Morristown. 
By permission of Rev. Andrew M. Sherman. 

Toi^ard tHe Camp Groiincl 187 

the thoughts of lemonade there is doubtless plenty 
of good sound American patriotism throbbing. 

By following Main Street to Mountain Ave- 
nue, then turning into this cross street, you will 
be led directly toward the mountains, arriving 
at the spot which Washington chose for his 
camp — one of the finest hill-brows in all this 
region, and a stifif climb from the foot. 

On the way out Moimtain Avenue one passes 
the public library; just beyond it is a cemetery 
old enough to be worth a glance from the land- 
mark lover. Even on stones not more than 
a half -century old there are some quaint in- 
scriptions, such as. 

Dear mother is gone, from sorrow free, 
Her face on earth no more we*ll see. 
With angels above she dwells on high; 
We hope to meet her when called to die. 

This part of New Jersey has older epitaphs 
than this. Not many miles away in a Dunellen 
cemetery is the stone of Luke Covert, who died 
in 1828 in the ninety-fourth year of his age. 
There is certainly a note of triumph in its 
inscription, and a triumph rather of this world 
than of another: 

Come look upon my grave, 

All you that pass by; 
Where one doth live to such an age 

Thousands do younger die. 

1 88 Westward 

To return to Mountain Avenue. It leads 
past the links and grounds of a country club, 
past half-rural homes, decidedly rural homes, 
and then, of a sudden, the road begins to ascend 
sharply and you seem to be led back into moun- 
tain fastnesses. There is at last a decisive turn 
in the road; a stony branch starts toward the 
left, directly along the brow of the hill, and by 
following this for perhaps a quarter-mile you 
emerge at last into the open, and find below you a 
marvelous panorama of plain, towns, buildings, 
woods — ^this is the old camp ground. 

It is recognized by its mounted cannon and 
the flag flying above them. Here, as at Plain- 
field, Washington surveyed the scene below and 
simimed up the situation. Chimney Rock is 
another point from which a remarkable out- 
look can be had to-day as in the days of the 



A PILGRIMAGE out through the Springfield 
^^ region, made famous by its ''Fighting 
Parson'* of long ago — on through the hilly and 
open country of New Jersey, where travelers 
of old climbed for refreshment to Bottle Hill — 
leads you at last to historic Morristown, which 
teems with Revolutionary tradition, even to 
possessing the coat and hat in which George 
Washington was inaugurated. 

Such a pilgrimage carries you over two 
important old turnpikes, at least approximately. 
From Newark, the Springfield Turnpike led a 
little south of west; at Springfield started the 
Morris Turnpike, leading on northwest, and 
penetrating the hilly country until it reached 
Morristown. This latter road passed through 
the Short Hills, crossed the county line from 
Essex into Morris County, and provided travel- 
ers with way-stations at Chatham and Bottle Hill. 

You will recognize Springfield by its church- 
tower clock, which rises slim and white in the 


IQO Westiward 

midst of the town. Follow that tower to its 
base, and you come to a little old white chtirch, 
and near it the weather-beaten stones of an old- 
time bnrying-ground. In that chiirchyard is a 
modern monument commemorating the great 
evejit in Springfield's history. 

"The first British advance," states the in- 
scription, '^'was stayed at the bridge east of 
the village June 7, 1780. The Battle of Spring- 
field was fought June 23rd. The Americans 
under General Greene on that day, near the 
stream west of the Church, checked the enemy, 
who in their retreat burned the Church and 
village. From this Church Parson Caldwell took 
psalm-books during the fight and flung them to 
the Americans for wadding, crying, 'Put Watts 
into 'em, boys!''' 

This is the story in a nutshell. Previous to 
the battle, Washington had moved his camp to 
Rockaway Bridge, his suspicions having been 
aroused by the movement of some British 
troops up the Hudson River. Acting upon the 
idea that the enemy had certain subterfuge in 
mind, he made the move on June 22d, and gave 
the post at Short Hills into the charge of Major- 
General Greene. The following day, early in 
the morning, two divisions under Knyphausen 
arrived at Springfield from Elizabethtown. 
They amoimted to about six thousand infantry, 
cavalry, and artillery. 

Battle of Springfield 191 

The right colvimn of the British aimed to 
drive Major Lee's dragoons from one of the 
bridges which crossed the Passaic, but it must 
first ford the stream. Dayton's regiment was so 
bravely resisting the left, that Knyphausen was 
almost unable to force his way forward; only 
his great superiority in numbers made this pos- 
sible. His troops were drawn up, and had 
begun a heavy cannonade, but, although Greene 
was ready to fight, Knyphausen, for some rea- 
son, did not enter into an engagement. The 
British, at Springfield, made a stand of several 
hours, after which they fell upon the town, 
plundering the inhabitants, burning, tmtil it was 
only a heap of ashes, and finally retreating to 
Elizabethtown Point. 

The conflict would be counted of less import- 
ance in American annals had it not been for 
the heroism of Parson Caldwell. He was pastor 
of the Presbyterian Church, a man well-known 
throughout this part of the State, having studied 
for the ministry at Princeton College in Newark, 
when Burr was its president; and having held 
the pastorate of the First Church in Elizabeth- 

He was innately a patriot, with an inherited 
instinct of revolt against tyranny. His ancestors 
had been French Huguenots who had fled to 
Scotland after the revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes; again they had fled from persecution, 

192 Westward 

this time of Claverhouse, seeking a home in 
Ireland. Caldwell's parents came to this coun- 
try from Ireland, and he was born in Virginia, 
in 1734. 

At the outbreak of the Revolution James 
Caldwell showed ardent patriotism, and came 
to be known as an active patriot. "There are 
times when it is righteous to fight as well as to 
pray, '' was part of his creed. His church follow- 
ers sustained him in his Revolutionary spirit, and 
were in sympathy with him when he became, 
in June, 1776, Chaplain of the Jersey Brigade 
under Colonel Dayton. From this time on 
his efforts in behalf of patriotism increased. 
When the army camped at Morristown he tised 
to work at getting provisions for the half -starved 
troops, and his great popularity made it possible 
for him to collect large supplies of stores from 
all over the region — ^which stores he distributed 

He became deputy quartermaster-general, 
with an office at Chatham. Over his office 
door appeared the letters "D.Q.M.G.'' and the 
story is told by Shaw that Caldwell's friend 
Abraham Clark, puzzling over the initials, 
finally said: ''I don't know what the letters 
mean, but I think they must indicate that 
you're a Devilish Queer Minister of the Gospel." 

His ''queerness" was the sort that made him 
beloved, even though it took such forms as 

Parson Caldweir® Story 193 

preaching with a pair of pistols on the dissk 
beside the Bible- — ^for there was often danger of 
a raid, and the ''Fighting Parson'' did not mean 
to be surprised. The soldiers were devoted to 
him — one day he would be distributing stores 
among them, the next, preaching the sort of 
sermon that put new courage into their very 
weary souls. 

It was the week before the Battle of Spring- 
field that all his fire had been roused to the ut- 
most by the brutal killing of his wife Hannah, 
who was shot down in her home by a redcoat 
while the Parson was away. Armed with all the 
sense of outrage which such an act inspired, 
he entered the battle a few days later, and Bret 
Harte has told his story in the poem Caldwell of 

. . . Stay one moment; you* ve heard 
Of Caldwell, the parson, who once preached the word 
Down at Springfield? What, no? Come — that's bad; 

why he had 
All the Jerseys aflame! And they gave him the name 
Of the "rebel high priest." He stuck in their gorge. 
For he loved the Lord God — and he hated King George! 

He had cause, you might say! When the Hessians 

that day 
Marched up with Knyphausen, they stopped on their 

At the ''farms, " where his wife, with a child in her arms, 
Sat alone in the house. How it happened none knew 

194 "Westward 

But God — and that one of the hireling crew 
Who fired the shot! Enough! — there she lay, 
And Caldwell, the chaplain, her husband, away! 

Did he preach — did he pray? Think of him as you 

By the old church to-day, — think of him and his band 
Of militant ploughboys! See the smoke and the heat 
Of that reckless advance, of that straggling retreat! 
Keep the ghost of that wife, fotdly slain, in your view — 
And what could you, what should you, what would you 


Why, just what he did! They were left in the lurch 
For the want of more wadding. He ran to the church. 
Broke the door, stripped the pews, and dashed out in 

the road 
With his arms full of hymn-books, and threw down his 

At their feet! Then above all the shouting and shots 
Rang his voice: **Put Watts into *em! Boys, give 'em 


And they did. That is all. Grasses spring, flowers 

Pretty much as they did ninety-three years ago. 
You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball— 
But not always a hero like this — and that's all. 

Following in the direction of the old Morris 
Tiirnpike, you soon pass beyond Essex County 
and approach Chatham, one of the places noted 
on the maps of a century ago. This village was 
settled by early New Englanders, and offered 
good opportunities by virtue of the iron ore 

Bottle Hill 195 

found hereabouts. In fact the region came to 
be known as ''The Old Forges/' 

It was customary to carry leather bags of the 
ore on the backs of horses, bring them here from 
the mines, and, after the ore was manufactured 
into iron, the bars were put once more, in their 
new form, into leather bags, and carried in the 
same manner to Elizabethtown and Newark, 
where they were loaded on to boats and shipped 
to New York. This business became so thriv- 
ing that it led to the opening of new roads. 

Farther on, where the pretty town of Madison 
stands on an elevation, one would never sus- 
pect that beneath its name such an appellation 
as ''Bottle Hiir* is hidden away. Yet Bottle 
Hill the town was for many a year. 

This came of the fact that the keeper of an 
early inn, instead of having an elaborate sign- 
board painted to indicate his line of business, 
merely swung a bottle to a post in front of his 
establishment,, trusting to the public to supply 
the statement. Some say that this inn-keeper 
was an Indian, accustomed to sign language — ^at 
any rate, his history seems to be blurred by 
time. But there is no doubt that such a sign 
did hang from such a post, and its unique 
simplicity naturally clung to the memory of 
travelers, who gave the village its name. 

As the place developed, a French element 
grew there, tracing its ancestry back to Vincent 

196 Westward 

Boisaubin, who had been an officer in the body- 
guard of Lotiis XVI. He preferred America to 
France for a home, and so cultured a gentleman, 
so public-spirited a citizen was he, that he was 
welcomed in Bottle Hill. It is claimed that 
his. act was the origin of the familiar story, told 
often with countless variations — ^the story of the 
poor citizen who had lost his cow. '* What can 
we do to help him? '' someone asked, and Boisau- 
bin reached into his generous pocket with the 
observation, ''I am sorry for that man five 

This is the town in which General Wayne made 
his headquarters during the American army's 
first encampment at Morristown. Deacon 
Ephraim Sayre's house was the one used by 
Wayne as headquarters, and one of the recol- 
lections passed down from that day is of the little 
mulatto whom Wayne kept as servant, and who 
always carried about a wooden sword with its 
edges sharpened, so much was he imbued with 
the martial spirit. 

As you enter Morristown by the road from 
Springfield, you are almost immediately con- 
fronted by the most famous of all its historic 
btiildings. This is the Washington headquarters, 
a treasure-house containing relics of such value 
that it ranks with the small group of such build- 
ings which are of national, rather than local, 
importance. It is somewhat amusing to observe 

Troops in Lo|( Huts 197 

the rivalry that exists among the guardians 
of these treasure-houses. "No, we have no 
old fireplace oven/' apologetically admitted the 
little lady who showed us about, ''I'm sorry. 
They have one at Mt. Vernon. But," brighten- 
ing, "weVe got Washington's inauguration suit 

This building was the home of Col. Jacob Ford 
in 1779, when it was turned over to Washington 
for his headquarters. The New Jersey Gazette 
of that year printed this news item: 

"We understand that the headquarters of the 
American Army is established at Morris-Town 
in the Vicinity of which the troops are now 

The main body of the army went into quar- 
ters here for the winter of 1 779-80, at first in tents, 
later in log huts, as the weather grew almost 
unbearable. They were about two miles from 
headquarters; the life-guard were in log huts 
only a few rods southeast of the Ford house. 
This residence has been carefully preserved and 
left tmchanged; the house and the surrounding 
large groimds are the same that they were when 
Martha Washington looked forth from the win- 
dows upon the bleak winter landscape. 

To the left of the front door is the dining-room 
used by Washington. Two log additions made 
for him served as kitchen and offices. To-day 
you are shown the desk and table where he wrote, 

198 "West-ward 

the table used by Hamilton, the old kitchen oven 
and spinning-wheel, and a host of old pieces 
of furnittire brought from interesting sources. 
There are sidelights on early American house- 
keeping thrown by some of these relics, one 
being the flour barrel scooped out of a tree-trunk. 

Mrs. Thompson was that keen Irish house- 
keeper who, during a dearth of provisions here, 
coaxed the General to let her be given an order 
for six bushels of salt. As it was worth eight 
dollars a bushel, the farmers around were 
delighted to exchange their fresh beef for it, 
and Mrs, Thompson surprised her chief with a 

Washington's dishes, brought over from 
Philadelphia, are on display. In the case where 
the inauguration suit is preserved, modestly 
abiding in the shadow of her great husband's 
garments, cuddle the blue satin and the white 
satin slippers worn by Mrs. Washington. The 
most valuable paper contained in the cabinet 
of documents is the great General's commission 
as Commander of the Army. From nine to 
five o'clock the house is open to the public 
except on Sunday. 

Continuing on along the road toward the 
center of town, you should turn in first at Oli- 
phant Lane which lies at your right just before 
you cross the railroad. Here, the first house 
on your right, stands a modest little residence 

The Springfield Church, Made Famous by the 
*' Fighting Parson.''^ 

The Old Arnold Tavern where ''Arnold's Light-Horse Troop'' Gathered, Morristown, 

The Old Dutch Church of Passaic, 

The Van Wagoner Homestead, Passaic. 

Hamilton and "Miss Betty" 199 

which once sheltered one of the romances* of 
American history. It used to be known as Dr. 
John Cochran's quarters; Dr. Cochran was 
surgeon-general of the American army, and his 
wife, the sister of General Philip Schuyler, 
entertained Schuyler's daughter Elizabeth in 
this dwelling during the army's winter at 

It so happened that Alexander Hamilton, 
being one of Washington's aides, was stopping 
at the Ford mansion; and he found it extremely 
convenient to drop in frequently around the 
corner of this lane to the house where Miss 
Betty was visiting. 

On one occasion Colonel Hamilton left the 
house so much preoccupied with thoughts of 
Betty, that when the sentinel propounded to 
him the question, ''Who comes there?" he was 
at a loss for the password. The sentinel re- 
cognized his superior, but he held to his duty 
and refused to let the Colonel pass. 

Hamilton was in despair, when at last he 
caught sight of young Ford through the darkness ; 
calling the boy, to whom he himself had given 
the countersign, he asked for it and received it. 
But even then it was with reluctance that the 
sentinel stretched a rule and let the officer pass. 

The subsequent romance and marriage of 
Alexander Hamilton and Betty Schuyler are 
familiarly known. 

200 Westward 

Stai continuing along the same road, you 
will come to the Memorial Hospital, which will 
be your guide in locating an old and dilapidated 
dwelling directly opposite, and back from the 
street. It used to stand on the site of the 
present hospital. In Revolutionary days it 
was the home of Parson Timothy Johnes, that 
old Presbyterian minister who came on horse- 
back to Morristown in 1743, brought his wife 
and two children, and was given a home by his 
parishioners, who cut the wood themselves for 
this residence, planted and gathered the pas- 
tor's crops for him, and furnished the house 
by their sewing bees. Parson Johnes welcomed 
Washington to his communion table, although 
the General was an Episcopalian. 

"Ours is not the Presbyterians' table. General, 
it is the Lord's,'* he said. 

The part of Morristown first settled is in the 
vicinity of Spring and Water streets. At this 
corner you will to-day find Dickerson's Tavern, 
known to the neighborhood as "the old yellow 
house." Its original form is more or less 
altered, but the main part of the house remains, 
on the original site, and stories of the past hover 
about it. 

Here the meeting of May i, 1775, was held by 
the men of Morris County, for the defense of 
that county against possible invasion. Here 
it was ordered that three hundred volunteers 

Captain DicKerson's Tavern 201 

be recrtiited, that five hundred pounds of pow- 
der be bought, and one ton of lead. Peaceful 
Morristown was to be peaceful no longer. 

Captain Peter Dickerson, one of the early 
Long Island captains, was largely instrumental 
in all these moves. He made his tavern head- 
quarters for discussions of this kind. He bore 
personally the entire expense of the company 
commanded by him, and the sum thus expended 
was never repaid; it now stands to his credit 
in the nation's capital. 

Reaching the Green, you are in the heart of 
historic Morristown. Quartermaster-General 
Greene's headquarters used to stand on the 
corner of Morris and South streets, on the site 
of a present drugstore. The burying-place of 
many soldiers was near by. The early Presby- 
terian Church stood where the present one stands, 
and was used as a hospital for soldiers in 1777. 
The bell of this church was presented to Morris- 
town by the King of Great Britain and was 
stamped with the impress of the British Crown. 

A short walk out Mt. Kemble Avenue brings 
you to some old buildings. On the right, the 
white house with immense grounds sloping up 
behind it, is the one-time General Doughty 
house. Handsome as it is, judged by present 
standards, one can realize that in a less 
ambitious period this was a veritable palace. 

Gen. John Doughty was a graduate of King's 

202 "West-ward 

College, now Colvimbia University, in the class 
of 1770. He entered the army at the opening 
of the Revolution and was fast promoted. When 
peace was declared at last, he was sent west to 
establish forts on the Ohio River and at even 
more wildly western points; this experience led 
to spicier adventtires than he had seen in the 

At one time, when going down the Tennessee 
River in a barge with sixteen soldiers, he was 
attacked by a large number of Indians in canoes; 
it was not until his aim felled the savage old chief 
that the battle was brought to a happy ending. 
After a long period of such hairbreadth escapes, 
he was content to settle down on his four hun- 
dred acres in Morristown and devote the remain- 
ing portion of his life to ''agricultural pursuits, 
the cultivation of literature, and the exercise 
of a generous and elegant hospitality." 

A few blocks beyond stands All Souls' Hos- 
pital. This building has been remodeled to 
suit its present needs; old times knew it as 
*'the Arnold Tavern." It used to stand on the 
site of the present Hoffman building. 

In January, 1777, Washington arrived in 
town, and went directly to this tavern, where 
he made his headquarters. During the winter 
it is said that he was attacked by quinsy, and 
that his wife came here to care for him. 

When the building was removed to this site, 

Fort Nonsense 203 

a strange old spear was found in its cellar — a 
five-foot pike, such as the English heavy-armed 
troops once bore. This was no doubt a relic 
left by Col. Jacob Arnold's Light-Horse Troop, 
who were armed each with this kind of spear. 
The tavern was built by Arnold's father, and 
afterwards passed into the hands of his son. 

Fort Nonsense lies not far from the center 
of town. By following Court Street you will 
reach the hill at the top of which that fantastic 
fort was built — a fort never to be used, intended 
merely to keep idle troops out of mischief dur- 
ing the long winter of 1779-80. The view of 
the hills and valleys around is worth the climb, 
and a monument marking the site of the non- 
sensical old fort is at the summit besides. Here 
embankments, ditches, and blockhouses were 
made by busy soldiers; this was a characteristi- 
cally shrewd move on Washington's part to avoid 
the perils of idleness among his men. 

By starting out on Western Avenue and going 
about four miles, you' enter the historic associ- 
ations which lie along the old Jockey Hollow 
Road. One of the old soldiers' bake-ovens used 
to be visible on this road, and there were other 
similar ovens near it. Even to-day there are 
spots where a few stones mark the locality of 

It was down the Jockey Hollow Road that 
trouble during the mutiny of the Pennsylvania 

204 Westward 

troops occurred, which Lossing calls ''the only 
serious and decided mutiny in the American 
army during the Revolution.'' New Year's 
Day of 1 78 1 saw the beginning of it. The 
mutineers had suffered every hardship and 
privation, and the war was dragging slowly 
and hopelessly. The men were paid little or no 
money, promises of Congress were not always 
fulfilled, and riot began at last. 

' One incident of the period leading to mutiny 
is associated with an old house which you will 
find now standing, beside the road. It is the 
Wick house. Prom this building were brought 
several of the old pieces of furniture now dis- 
played in the Washington headquarters. 

Here lived that gallant young patriot, Miss 
Tempe Wick, the daughter of the house. During 
the disorder some of the troops down this road 
became disgracefully drunk, and set out to make 
trouble. They rioted in the neighborhood of the 
house, causing especial disturbance to Mrs. Wick 
who was very ill at the time. It was necessary 
to call the doctor, who lived a mile away; no 
one could go on the errand save Tempe, so she 
carried her sick mother to the cellar for safety 
and set out on her favorite horse to ride for the 

Returning, she was confronted by a group 
of noisy soldiers who ordered her to dismount. 
But instead of losing her nerve and giving up 

Tempe WicK 205 

to them, she kept to her horse, held her head 
high, and galloped away down the road where 
they could not follow. Returning again, she 
rode her horse straight into the house, out of 
danger, through the kitchen, and shut the pet 
animal into the spare bedchamber, where he 
remained a captive for several days until all 
danger of his being stolen was past, and the 
rioters disappeared from the neighborhood. 



'* /y ARS. S., with her mother, aunt, two brothers 
^ ^ * and sister, took passage on a schooner at 
New York, at the dock near Cortlandt Street, 
for Acquackanonk Landing. The Captain had 
several other passengers. The Captain started 
at 10:45 A.M., expecting to run up in half a day; 
but the wind was treacherous, and he was that 
day and night and the next day and part of the 
night on the way, having been a half day aground 
in the mud. Meanwhile the whole party got out 
of provisions, and the last day there was noth- 
ing to eat. Mrs. S.'s sister, about twelve, and 
her two brothers, who were growing children, 
suffered until the passengers broke open a bar- 
rel of flour and made paste pudding and flour 
cakes. They landed finally at the dock at 
Acquackanonk Landing at 11 o'clock on a 
November night, when the tide was so high 
that they had to wade a distance through the 
water over their shoes, having left their goods 
on the schooner; and as there were no vacant 


Passengers and Flo\ir Barrels 207 

accommodations at the landing place, and being 
told that it was only a 'short step' to Paterson, 
where they were destined, the entire party, 
hungry, wet and miserable, followed the road up 
through the fog and rain, the night being also 
very dark. They had been seven weeks on the 
ocean, but did not know what suffering was un- 
til they made their inland journey. The next 
day their goods were brought on a wagon from 
the Landing.'' 

Thus The News History reprints an early de- 
scription of a voyage to the town of Passaic, 
then known as Acquackanoiik Landing. Be- 
ing at the head of tidewater on the Passaic 
River, it soon grew to be an important head- 
quarters for water travel, in the days when we 
made better use of our rivers than we do to-day. 
At that time, sloops and schooners of goodly 
size were able to carry commerce up the stream, 
and, as may be seen from the above harrowing 
tale, passengers traveled at times in company 
with the flour barrels. In fact there was a 
considerable amount of water travel by early 
dwellers in New Jersey; they came to Acquack- 
anonk from all the surrounding country, and 
there took boats to New York. 

By the beginning of the Eighteenth Century, 
there were roads from all directions converging 
at this town, and passengers for Newark and 
New York could choose between a boat running 

2o8 Westward 

down the Passaic, or a stagecoach. Later on, 
a turnpike connected Acquackanonk with Pater- 
son and the Great Falls, and from there another, 
the Hamburg and Paterson Turnpike, ran north- 
west to the remoter country, toward Pompton. 

The motorist of the Twentieth Century can 
start from Newark, and follow avenues and 
drives along the shore of the Passaic River, 
tracing fairly well the direction of the old turn- 
pike, and keeping in mind that time when 
Acquackanonk was so far away that it required 
paste pudding and flour cakes to sustain nature 
on the journey. 

The County Bridge crosses the river and 
enters the town near where Main and Gregory 
avenues meet, the heart of the original town. 
Hereabouts it was settled by early Holland 
Dutch, on the site of an Indian village. 

Jacob Stoffelson is supposed to have been the 
first white man to set foot in what is now Passaic. 
He was a highly esteemed though little educated 
man, whose friendship with the Indians led him 
to be more or less a power. Before 1678 he ar- 
rived here, looking for land which he was to 
purchase for his friend Christopher Hoaglandt, 
a New York merchant from Holland. Stoffelson 
had ridden overland from Jersey City, making 
his way through miles of wilderness. 

From this time on the spot came to be known 
as having a most valuable situation, and before 

THe Van Wagoner Homestead 209 

long it was a settlement of thriving Dutch. 
At the corner of Main and Gregory avenues is 
still standing a relic of the Dutch period, the old 
Van Wagoner homestead, its stone walls screened 
by weeping willows. This house is almost all 
that is left to call up pictures of Dutch life here. 

This house was commenced before the Revolu- 
tion, interrupted by the war, and its building was 
resumed in 1788. For years it remained in the 
hands of the Van Wagoners, one of the sturdiest 
and finest of the old Holland families. They 
were of the same stock as the Gerritsens ; some 
members of the family changed the name to 
signify that they came from the town of Wagen- 
ing, and thus the new name developed in the 
same line. 

The original Gerritsen brought a certificate 
from the ''burgomasters, schepens and coun- 
sellors of the city of Wagening, '' to the effect 
that these worthy gentlemen **have testified 
and certified that they have good knowledge of 
Gerrit Gerritsen and Annetje Hermansse, his 
wife, as to their life and conversation, and 
that they have always been considered and 
esteemed as pious and honest people, and that 
no complaint of evil or disorderly conduct has 
ever reached their ears; on the contrary, they 
have always led pious, quiet, and honest lives, 
as it becomes pious and honest persons. They 
especially testify that they govern their family 


210 Westward 

well and bring up their children in the fear of 
God and in all modesty and respectability/' 

Many branches of the Gerritsens (spelled 
variously) and the Van Wagoners lived to 
become fruitful and multiply and replenish 
the earth for many miles around New York. 
One, called ^'Manus" Van Wagoner, was promi- 
nent in the Revolution, remaining neutral and 
entertaining distinguished members of both 
sides. One Mrs. Gerritsen was far from neu- 
tral ; some lively stories of her partisanship are 
related, one to the effect that she chased from 
her house with the tongs some old neighbors 
who had become British informers; at another 
time she charged upon a peddler whom she 
suspected of being a spy, and pushed him out 
over the lower half of her Dutch door. 

If you will turn to the old Dutch church just 
around the corner from the Van Wagoner 
homestead, you will find many familiar old 
names of that period inscribed on the head- 
stones in the yard. The Polish now use the 
church building for their services. 

The bridge which leads into town here is 
not far from the site of the original bridge of 
Acquackanonk. The original crossed about 
250 feet to the north, and came out directly 
opposite the famous old Tap House on the 
Hill. A little farther down, where Paulison 
Avenue ends, there was a ferry. Some claim 

A.cq\jiacKanonK Landing 21 1 

that Washington, in his retreat from Fort Lee 
and from Hackensack, crossed the river at the 
original bridge here, and camped in the village 
overnight, although authorities differ on this 
detail. Part of Cornwallis' army is said to 
have followed to this bridge and found it de- 
stroyed, with three thousand men waiting and 
ready to intercept; the British wheeled, and 
crossed further to the north. 

The territory which was once included under 
the name Acquackanonk was very extensive, 
and the deeds to the property were direct from 
Sir George Carteret and the Lords Proprietors 
of the province which was known as East New 
Jersey. For many years the village was eclipsed 
by the Landing; navigation to New York was 
lively every fall and spring, and the roads lead- 
ing to the Landing often displayed a veritable 
procession of wagons, coming from every direc- 
tion, bringing in products to the large store- 
houses and docks. From the agricultural regions 
came grain, hay, and farm produce. From the 
woods came barrel staves, hoop poles, and timber. 
From the mines of Morris County came iron 
ore. From forest districts beyond came furs. 
All these goods were brought to Acquackanonk 
Landing for shipment. In the midst of all this 
lawful prosperity, there is a somewhat adventtir- 
ous tale of the Ludlow brothers, Cornelius V. C. 
and John, who took advantage of the excellent 

212 Westward 

shipping situation to fiirnish the British with 
cannon which they obtained at Ringwood above 
Pompton, during the War of 1812. 

Contintiing on to Paterson, we may trace one 
of the most remarkable stories in the records of 
indttstrial America. We associate the name 
of Alexander Hamilton so constantly with his 
soldierhood and statesmanship that we forget 
his r6le as a master of industry. The colossal 
scheme of organized industry which he visu- 
alized might have eclipsed his other works, 
had it matured under his hands. The cotmtry 
and its industrial methods were hardly ripe 
enough in the seventeen-hundreds to develop 
his plans; probably they were too advanced, as a 
matter of fact, for his own powers of execution. 
But much of the nation's industrial prosperity 
owes its beginning to Alexander Hamilton and 
his discovery, in a manufacturing sense, of the 
Great Palls of the Passaic River. 

As you approach the Falls, you pass through 
dingy streets, beside crowded mills, in the 
midst of much that is sordid and dismal. Sud- 
denly the road swings about a sweeping curve, 
and before you gapes a gorge, sheer and wicked 
as a bit of Rocky Motmtain scenery, with men 
like ants toiling at the foot of its plunge. 

A new building appears glued to the rock 
at the bottom of the chasm. Above its door 
you may read, "1791-1914," and between the 

Hamilton's Vision 213 

dates the three significant letters, "S. U. M." 
This, in brief, is the story. 

Soon after the Revolution, when the United 
States was settling down from the disturbance 
of war and beginning to take up constructive 
thought, Alexander Hamilton, the first Secretary 
of the Treasury under Washington, conceived 
the idea of a great association. It was to 
organize American manufactures — every kind 
of manufacture, from a spool of thread to a 
plow. It was to establish the real independence 
of the young country. As soon as this offspring 
of Britain should learn to make her own wares 
she would be genuinely quit of apron strings, 
and would cease to be an importer. Further- 
more, in time she would compete with foreign 
countries, would become an exporter on a vast 

Having seen this vision of the future unrolling 
before him, Hamilton looked about for a place 
suitable to begin operations. He thoroughly 
scoured the country surrounding New York. 
At last he sifted the matter down; no situation, 
according to his idea, held such promise as the 
Great Falls of the Passaic at a point then in- 
cluded in the town of Acquackanonk. Paterson 
did not then exist; Ottawa, a tiny village across 
the river, was the nearest hamlet. 

So enthusiastic was the great financier, and 
so logical did his plan appear, that he succeeded 

214 Westward 

in interesting many capitalists in the venture. 
Five thousand shares of stock were subscribed, 
at one hundred dollars each, though only 2267 
were ever fully paid for. The organization was 
latmched in 179 1, the Legislature of New Jersey 
pas^ng an act incorporating it; and its name was 
announced as ''The Society for Establishing 
Useful Manufactures. '' It created such enthusi- 
asm, such faith, that both individuals and the 
State were ready to yield to its every request; 
it was authorized to put through canals, to claim 
whatever it needed for its purposes in numberless 
ways. The start was made with a mill for the 
making of cotton cloth. 

The tale of the rise and fall of this society 
reads like the tale of a mere bursting bubble. 
But in essence this dream was more than a bub- 
ble, for all its outward bursting. It paved the 
way, despite its own failure, for a vast industrial 
life which might never have reached its present 
proportions but for Hamilton's vision. 

When only this one small cotton factory was 
as yet under way, the crash came. It appears 
that an adventurer of a reckless and spend- 
thrift disposition. Major L'Enfant by name, 
became influential in the organization and 
brought about its demise. His visions were 
as mad as Hamilton's had been sane, and he 
plunged the funds into a ship canal which he 
planned to build from Paterson to the head of 


The Passaic River, near the Site of the Old Acqiiackanonck Bridge. 

The Monument to Alexander Hamilton at Weehawken. 

The Old House at Huyler's Landing, Built before the Revolution. 

The Cornwallis Headquarters at Alpine, 

End of the S. U. M. 215 

tidewater in the Passaic. Thus ended the 
prosperity of the S. U. M. 

But the organization was not dead. It 
possessed a perpetual charter, and held juris- 
diction and rights over the watershed. The 
corporation survives to-day in the water com- 
pany of this district, which perpetuates the name 
and history; and Hamilton's discovery of the 
manufacturing value of the Passaic led to the 
sudden forging ahead of American industry. 
Other factories sprang up around the great 
nucleus; within a little over a century, more 
than a hundred silk mills clustered there, with 
two hundred times as many operatives. The 
manufactures of the present have spread far 
beyond that of silk; machinery, locomotives, 
and so on are made here. 

During the summer, the himdred feet of 
precipitous rock lie bare in the heat. Through 
the winter the Falls present a wonderful picture 
— a picture which the Indians knew long before 
any white person had ever seen it, in the latter 
part of the Seventeenth Century. The Indians 
named the Falls Totowa, which means to sink, 
or to be forced down beneath the water by 
weight. They told tales of the marvelous rain- 
bows which formed above the cataract, of the 
glen called the Valley of the Rocks, where 
Washington and Lafayette both wandered in 
later days. 

21 6 "Westward 

Even before the Revolution, tourists were 
making exctirsions to the Great Falls so fre- 
quently, as their fame grew, that it appeared 
worth while to Abraham Godwin to establish 
a public house in the neighborhood. An an- 
nouncement issued November 28, 1774, reads: 

'^This is to acquaint the public that there is 
a stage-waggon erected to go from the house 
of Abraham Godwin, near the Great Falls, to 

Still later the Falls became known as the 
scene of dare-devil exploits, such as Niagara has 
boasted of. The story of Sam Patch is the most 
familiar. Some have walked tight ropes stretched 
across the ravine ; one of these performances was 
by Mons. de Lave, as long ago as i860. There 
have been terrific accidents and sensational 
rescues here; James W. McKee, the song writer, 
once snatched the reins from a team and made a 
life-line which he threw to a man and a boy who 
had been dashed over the edge, and they actu- 
ally clung to the line and were safely landed. 

Back in the main part of town we find a few- 
historic buildings. One is the old hotel at the 
foot of Bank Street, where River Street inter- 
sects; this was the one built about 1774 by 
Abraham Godwin. A little west of it stands 
the stone house which Cornelius Van Winkle 
erected in 1770. On Water Street, between 
Hamburgh Avenue and Temple Street, stands 

"WasHin^ton's Horses SHod 217 

the Doremus house, which is the oldest dweUing 
in the city. 

On Main Street stands the First Presby- 
terian Chtirch, more than a centiiry old. Among 
its early doctiments is preserved a paper headed: 

''subscription for a hearse, 1825. 

''We the subscribers, members of the First 
Presbyterian Congregation in Paterson, consider- 
ing it to be desirable and important that a 
Hearse should be procured, which shall be 
the property of the Congregation, to be used 
for the accommodation of the members of this 
Congregation — and also for the accommodation 
of others, when convenient — Promise to pay to 
the Trustees of the First Presbyterian Society 
in Paterson the sums annexed to our respective 
names for the above mentioned object.'' 

"Easy rolling grades, fine views,'' is the road 
note printed on a recent automobile map, where 
the road from Paterson to Pompton continues 
along the Passaic Valley. The way was less 
easy when Washington's army crossed Pompton 
Township, as it did several times, going between 
West Point and Morristown. In the valley of 
Ringwood, the place where Washington had 
his horses shod is still pointed out. Near this 
Robert Erskine was buried; he had been given 
the management of the iron mines in this district 

21 8 Westward 

for the London company before the Revolution, 
but at the outbreak of that war he joined the 
American forces. Washington was a close friend 
of his, and Erskine was made Geographer and 
Surveyor-General to the Army of the United 

If the motorist of the nineteen-hundreds re- 
turns to New York from Paterson and Pas- 
saic by way of the Paterson Plank Road, he 
will arrive at Weehawken, where the story of 
Alexander Hamilton was brought to its close. 
Going east to the heights which rise above the 
vista of New York and her thronged waters, 
below which trains, ready to start in dozetis of 
different directions, lie like serpents stretched 
in lean lines below, and coimtless boats crawl 
hither and thither, he will find, at the edge 
of the Boulevard, the monument which marks 
Hamilton's end. 

This was in 1804. Hamilton had been active 
in politics for a long time. In 1795 he had 
resigned his office as Secretary of the Treasury, 
having accomplished enough in that office to 
entitle him to a comparative rest. He had car- 
ried a measure for the funding of the domestic 
debt, in order to reestablish public credit; had 
founded a national bank; and had rearranged 
the system of duties. Moreover, he had been 
of inestimable aid to the administration in mat- 
ters outside the scope of his own department. 

Duel of Hamilton and Burr 219 

But although he resumed his private law 
practice in New York after six years of work 
for the new government, he was leader of the 
Federal party, and the fierce party strife of 180 1 
brought him forward into public life again. In 
the winter of 1804 he and Aaron Burr crossed 
political swords, and the upshot was a duel 
challenge by Burr, Hamilton had great abhor- 
rence of the practice of dueling, but the chal- 
lenge was so made that he felt it impossible in 
honor, to refuse; and on the morning of July nth, 
Hamilton and Burr met just at the foot of this 
cliff, below where the monximent now stands. 
It was the same spot where Hamilton's eldest 
son had been killed in a duel three years before. 

He fell at the first shot from Burr's pistol. 
He made no attempt to answer the fire. He was 
mortally wounded; being carried across the river 
to the home of Mr. Bayard, near Greenwich 
Village, he died the following day, soon after 
the arrival of his wife and children. Such was 
the nation's sympathy with him and indignation 
toward his opponent that Burr was practically 
exiled. Hamilton's widow lived tmtil 1854, and 
was much beloved and honored. 

The bowlder against which Hamilton fell in the 
duel was preserved. 



NESTLING at the foot of the Palisades was 
old Closter Landing. Above it, now as 
then, the height is cloaked by a mass of dense 
green foliage. It is not far from the highest 
point of the entire wall; from here up to Indian 
Head, opposite Hastings, the Palisades rise to 
their greatest height. The Landing is known 
to-day as Alpine, and lies opposite the town of 

When the Palisades Interstate Park Commis- 
sion took the west bank of the Hudson River 
and made it a pleasure ground for the people, it 
included the stretch all the way from Newburgh 
in New York State, south to Fort Lee in New 
Jersey. There is no finer strip along the shore 
than that near Alpine — ^here you can penetrate 
woodsy trails that suggest the Catskills, and 
scramble over wave-lashed rocks that remind 
you of the coast of Maine. 

Where the little rowboat of old days crossed 
the river, you can now take the ferry from 


Closter Landing 221 

Yonkers and cross in a few minutes. Straight 
ahead of you, as you approach the further shore, 
lies a deep pass known as Alpine Gorge, and 
here an old road winds up to the summit and 
on to the town of Closter. Here is Harrington 
Township, named for Peter Haring who came 
from North Holland in the early part of the 
Seventeenth Century. The Great Chip Rock 
Reach was the name once applied to the stretch 
along the river where you are landing. 

It is a calm enough picture to-day. The woods 
lie green and still, the river slaps quietly on the 
shore, picnickers land and hurry away with 
their bulging baskets, a park patrolman in ftill 
regalia marches solitary along the rocks. Only 
one lonely white house stands near, to link the 
comfortable present with the war-torn past. 

A century and a half ago it was built, from 
the stones that strewed the shore, from the tim- 
ber yielded by the virgin forest. Its heavy 
walls have withstood time and weather. It is 
preserved as the Comwallis Headquarters. 

On November 19, 1776, Comwallis crossed 
the river and arrived where you are to-day, 
at Closter Landing. He brought six thousand 
men. He had with him the first and second 
battalions of light infantry. There were also 
two companies of chasseurs, the 33d and 42d 
regiments of the line, and two battalions of 

222 Westward 

The American forces at Fort Lee were the 
object of his pursuit. Having landed upon the 
west bank and being near his destination, he 
looked about for a comfortable headquarters 
and fotmd this dwelling immediately at hand. 
Here he ate, drank, and gave commands, and 
here the tradition of the British stay has ever 
since climg — and will cling permanently, for the 
house is preserved by the Park Commission as 
a landmark. 

A partly obliterated road leads from just south 
of the house to the crest above. It is hardly 
more than a steep trail through a wilderness at 
present; so steep, that anyone who attempts it 
now must realize what it meant to the British 
army to scale the summit. 

Here Comwallis' men mounted to the top of 
the Palisades. On the edge of the bluff above, 
you stand where the British general stood before 
he proceeded south to Fort Lee. It was a 
two-hour march on a November morning, made 
while the retreat of Washington began, and one 
of the darkest days of Revolutionary history was 
dawning upon our army. 

At old Closter Landing the Half -Moon has been 
making headquarters much of the time since her 
first voyage up the Hudson River in 1909, at 
the Hudson-Fulton celebration. In the year 
1609 her ancestor, whose name she bears, sailed 
slowly up the river as far as Indian Head, just 

Hurler's Landing 223 

above this point. There the first anchor that 
ever was lowered into the Indians' Ma-hi-can- 
ittuc River cut the blue water, and the original 
Half -Moon lay at rest. In the morning, twenty- 
eight canoes filled with men, women, and children 
made out to the vessel, bearing oysters and 
beans which the Dutch purchased. No doubt 
curiosity was a stronger incentive than the sale 
of oysters and beans. 

If the traveler of to-day follows the British 
march to Fort Lee, he must keep to the top of 
the bluff. But the walk along the shore reveals 
several interesting landmarks. The next land- 
ing below Alpine was known in early times as 
Lower Closter. It is now called Huyler's Land- 
ing, and the broad white house which guards it 
shines across the river, a familiar sight from the 
east shore, at Ludlow. It stands almost at the 
water's edge, and is of about the same period 
as the Cornwallis Headquarters. It must have 
been equally well built, and more pretentious. 
The substantial appearance of both buildings 
offers a silent comment on the get-built-quick 
domiciles of the hasty present. 

Just south is another house of pre-Revolu- 
tionary period, but not cared for as the other two 

Continuing still to the south, you come at 
last to a little old cemetery — ^you can easily 
miss it if you do not look sharply to the right. 

224 West-ward 

A group of worn tombstones is to be discovered, 
half smothered in the tangle of green which 
covers the slope. If you will break your way 
through the tangle, and part concealing branches, 
you can make out dates a century old, and the 
names of various members of the Van Wagoner 
family who dwelt hereabouts as early as the 
Revolution. The Van Wagoners lived, died, 
and were buried here, in Undercliff Settlement, 
a succession of generations. 

Above, on the brow of the cliff, you may see 
Hermit's Point jutting out. You are approach- 
ing the one-time Englewood Pier, now a landing 
place for the Dykman Street Ferry. Still further 
south, near where the Fort Lee Ferry runs from 
130th Street in Manhattan to-day, was the old 
Burdett 's Ferry of Revolutionary days. 

This route was important, being the continu- 
ation of the Hackensack Turnpike. The road 
snaked its way from the valley beyond, and 
approached the water at a point near the old 
Burdett home — ^representatives of this family 
have ever since been living at Fort Lee. The 
proudest tradition of the family is said to be 
that one Mrs. Peter Burdett cooked the flapjacks 
on which General Washington and his officers 
breakfasted during their stay in the neighborhood. 

Burdett's Ferry was the only means of com- 
munication between the sister forts, Washington 
and Lee, and while Mollie Sneden was operating 

Patriotism and FlapjacKs 225 

the ferry at Sneden's Landing, five miles above 
Alpine, the loyal patriot Peter Burdett was 
assisting our army to transport ammunition 
and supplies as well as soldiers from shore 
to shore, while his better half displayed her 
patriotism in flapjacks. 

The old Burdett homestead was for many 
years a landmark of Fort Lee, but it has at last 
been demolished. Etienne Burdett, son of one 
of the early Huguenots in this country, cleared a 
spot in the forest of the Palisades and there built 
him a dwelling. Acres surrotuiding belonged to 
him. His brother Peter fell heir to the home, 
and it long remained in the family. 

On the Palisades at Fort Lee we are on the 
historic ground of the American fort — ^the point 
toward which Comwallis was left marching 
from Closter Landing. Thomas Paine has left 
the best-known description of the evacuation 
of this post; as an aide-de-camp to Greene he 
saw all the retreat ; he was with the troops here, 
and he marched with them back to the edge of 

In the center of the town is Monument Square, 
with its Revolutionary montmient which was 
erected in 1908 by the State of New Jersey 
under the auspices of the Fort Lee Revolution- 
ary Mommient Association. It is the work of 
the sculptor Carl E. Tefft. Two bronze figures 
of Continental soldiers seem to be scaling the 


226 Westward 

great bowlders which form the base, one fairly 
at the top, the other struggling to reach it; 
these bowlders are the very stuff of the Palisades 
themselves, and the conception of the soldiers' 
ptirpose is to achieve that crest. 
' Arthtir C. Mack's volume. The Palisades of 
the Hudson, traces these localities in detail. 
Turning toward the south, you come upon a 
small stone church which has no stirring history 
of its own, but is in the midst of historic sites. 
Directly in front of where this modern Episcopal 
church stands was Washington's well. Some- 
what further down and toward the north, the 
ancient army oven is known to have been. 

West from the church, across the trolley track 
and a little beyond, is Hook's Ice Pond, where 
workmen in 1898 dug up quantities of relics. 
There were found cannon balls, bayonets, shoe 
buckles, stirrups, bullets, and bullet molds. 
Long ago, on the west side of the pond, there were 
piles of stones which had once been fireplaces 
in the soldiers' huts. 

North of the church again, north, too, of the 
monument and just east of Parker Avenue (the 
street on which the church faces) you will find 
the main site of fortification, lying between 
Cedar and English streets. In this immediate 
vicinity there have been dug up bullets, bullet 
molds, and cannon balls within recent years. 

Continuing still further north, and eastward, 

Pedoxxbts of tKe Palisades 227 

out toward the edge of the height, you will find 
the old Bluff Point, the site of the works en- 
closed by the abatis. This site is out toward the 
river from the end of Main Street. Some dis- 
tance further up along the edge is the site of the 
redoubt which commanded the simken obstruc- 
tions between Fort Washington and Port Lee. 

This was the situation in '76. The Palisades* 
bluff jutting out here at Fort Lee had been forti- 
fied early in the year by two redoubts; the lower 
and lesser was called Fort Constitution, and the 
upper, the main one, was named after Charles 
Lee, who later attempted to buy his freedom 
from British captors by offering them a plan for 
conquering Washington's army. His name has 
not, therefore, been a popular one, and few of us, 
in using the name of the fort, ever think of its 
origin. Lee was taken back into the American 
army and reappointed second in command, but 
his treachery at Monmouth, and other misdeeds, 
led to his final dismissal, and he died a sad and 
disgraced death in later years. 

At the beginning of the Fort Lee story, Fort 
Washington, across the river, had fallen. This 
fortification stood on the hill between i8ist and 
1 86th streets of the present. Congress had in- 
sisted that General Washington should hold this 
fort in spite of his wish to evacuate — ^but in the 
end Howe had contrived to get a supply of 
flatboats to King's Bridge, and thus reach Fort 

228 Westward 

Washington. It was then a fairly simple matter 
for the British to proceed. Magaw found him- 
self wholly in the power of the enemy, and he and 
his garrison became prisoners of war. He had 
made a stubborn defense, having refused Howe's 
first stimmons to surrender; but the end found 
the garrison of more than two thousand men in 
the jails of New York. 

Washington, meanwhile, was on the west 
shore of the Hudson. Both Greene and Magaw 
had believed that the fort on the east side 
could be defended, and Magaw's reply to 
Howe's first summons, November 15th, showed 
his spirit: 

"Actuated by the most glorious cause that 
mankind ever fought in, I am determined to 
defend this post to the very last extremity. '* 

As the danger had increased, Greene had sent 
a messenger across the river to Washington, 
informing him of the situation; but at the same 
time he sent reinforcements to Magaw, antici- 
pating a happy outcome. The message dis- 
turbed Washington, but the sender was hopeful. 
At nightfall Washington had arrived at Fort Lee; 
Greene and Putnam were at Fort Washington. 
Irving says: '*He threw himself into a boat and 
had partly crossed the river, when he met those 
generals returning. They informed him of the 
garrison's having been reinforced. ... It was 
with difficulty however that they could prevail 

The Monument at Fort Lee, to Soldiers oj the 

The *' Half- Moon'' Anchored at Historic ^' Closter Landing.^' 

The Old Dutch Church of Ilackensack, whose Records Date hack to i6S6. 

Mansion House at Hackensack, where Washington Stayed during his Retreat. 

A.baxiclonxnent of Fort Lee 229 

on him to return with them to the Jersey shore, 
for he was excessively excited/' 

And Bacon adds: "Less discreet historians 
than Irving have not hesitated to say that the 
Father of His Country on that occasion expressed 
his excitement in language of much greater vigor 
than is coimtenanced by polite custom. In other 
words, this is believed to have been one of the 
rare occasions upon which Washington swore/' 

Fort Washington was not to be saved, how- 
ever. Lossing says: "Washington, standing 
upon Fort Lee with his general officers, and the 
author of Common Sense, saw some of the slaugh- 
ter near the doomed fortress, and with streaming 
eyes he beheld the meteor flag of England flash- 
ing above its ramparts in the bright November 

The abandonment of Fort Lee was now a fore- 
gone conclusion, for it was obviously the next 
move for the British to take the sister fort. The 
flight was made in reckless haste. Camp kettles 
were left on the fires, more than four hundred 
tents were left standing, and more than three 
months' provision for three thousand men. A few 
blankets, a little baggage, were hauled away in 
wagons, while all the cannon remained except two 
twelve-pounders. Thomas Paine wrote: 

"As I was with the troops at Fort Lee and 
marched with them to the edge of Pennsylvania, 
I am well acquainted with many circumstances 

230 West^ward 

which those who lived at a distance knew little 
of. Our situation there was exceedingly cramped, 
the place being on a narrow neck of land between 
the Hackensack and North Rivers. Our force was 
inconsiderable, being not one-fourth as great as 
Hpwe could bring against us. We had no army 
at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we 
shut ourselves up and stood on the defense. 
Our ammtmition, light artillery, and the best 
part of our stores had been removed upon the 
apprehension that Howe would endeavor to 
penetrate the Jerseys, in which case Fort Lee 
could be of no use to us. . . . Such was our 
situation and condition at Fort Lee on the morn- 
ing of the 20th of November, when an officer 
arrived with information that the enemy with 
two htmdred boats had landed seven or eight 
miles above. Major-General Greene, who com- 
manded the garrison, immediately ordered them 
under arms, and sent an express to his Excellency, 
General Washington, at Hackensack, distant 
six miles. Our first object was to secure the 
bridge across the Hackensack. General Wash- 
ington arrived in about three-quarters of an 
hour and marched at the head of his troops. . . . 
We brought off as much baggage as the wagons 
could contain. The rest was lost. . . . The 
simple object was to bring off the garrison and 
march them on till they could be strengthened 
by the Pennsylvania or Jersey militia." 

A Tragic Retreat 231 

The melancholy retreat over the six miles 
back to Hackensack left only a deserted fort 
for Comwallis when he arrived from Closter 
Landing. The conquest was easy for the Eng- 
lish forces, and it is probable that they might 
have captured the American army had they 
continued with vigor. 

If you follow the retreat back to where it 
arrived at Hackensack, you can picture a cold, 
rainy dusk. In such a dusk the Americans 
arrived. They came marching two abreast; 
they were barefooted, their feet torn by the rough 
roads; their garments were so worn and torn 
that they were exposed to the cold rain, except 
for wrapping their blankets around them as they 
raarched. Toward the Mansion House they 
trod that path of defeat and hardship, and were 
drawn up in the square which you now find 
crisply trimmed and watered and green, adorned 
with a foimtain, prosperous, and at peace. 

There the pitiful group, huddling in their 
blankets against the rain, waited for the next 
duty. Their march was by no means over. 

Facing the square stands the Mansion House, 
now a hotel, but in those days the private resi- 
dence of Peter Zabriskie. Washington had been 
making it his headquarters, and he returned to 
it now for the period before continuing his march. 
A tablet has been placed upon the building by 
the Bergen County Historical Society '*to mark 

232 Westward 

the site of the Mansion House occupied as head- 
quarters by General George Washington during 
the retreat from Fort Lee in 1776/' 

It is a spacious, old-fashioned structure, com- 
ing out to a line with Main Street and only 
slightly withdrawn from the sidewalk on its 
front, Washington Place. The house has been 
altered and added to since the days of Peter 
Zabriskie, but the main part of the building is 
the same as in 1776. 

At the farther end of the small park is the old 
Dutch church, the First Reformed Church of 
Hackensack, full of early history. Records of 
the original building date back to 1686. It is 
known that the church was established soon after 
the beginning of the town, which was in 1640, 
when the Dutch settled it, naming it for the 
Indians who dwelt thereabouts. The name 
''Hackensack'' meant to the Indians ''a river in 
a marsh,*' and distinguished this stream from 
the ''Passaic," "a river in a valley." 

The churchyard sturotmds the building, and 
its stones bear many familiar old names. Some 
of the materials of which the Dutch church of 
1696 was constructed are now to be seen in the 
eastern wall. 

Here and there are old names carved in the 
stones used in the walls; one stone reveals the 
words, "Jacob Brinker hoff 1792," and another, 
"Peter Zabrsky 1791," with the long "s." 

£nocH Poor 233 

Little is known of some of the owners of these 
names. Some stones display ornamentation 
accompanying the letters — crude carvings of 
grotesque figures, similar to those often found 
on headstones in old churchyards. 

A monument standing in the open space be- 
fore the church, and opposite the Bergen Coimty 
Court House, is dedicated to the memory of 
Brigadier-General Enoch Poor, by the New 
Jersey Sons of the American Revolution. Poor 
was bom in Andover, Massachusetts, but much 
of his life was associated with Hackensack, and 
he died near this town in 1780. In command of 
a New Hampshire brigade he rendered signal 
service at many battles, especially Stillwater, 
Saratoga, Newtown, and Monmouth. 

At Valley Forge he displayed his courage and 
tmselfishness in providing for the comfort of his 
soldiers. He won the high regard not only of 
the men under him, but of Washington and 
Lafayette. A military funeral closed his career; 
soldiers marched to his grave beside the old 
Dutch church which now looks upon his monu- 
ment; a quaint record reports that the drums 
were muffled in black cr6pe and that the officers 
wore cr6pe arotmd their left arms. 

For the present-day pilgrim who does not 
care to leave the shores of the Hudson, and follow 
Washington's retreat inland to Hackensack, it 
is worth while to continue south from Fort Lee 

234 Westward 

and search out the landing place of the old Buirs 
Ferry, which was one of the three important 
crossings (Fort Lee Ferry and Weehawken 
Ferry being the others) some hundred years ago. 
Shadyside of modern times is the name given 
this point. Near the old ferry a blockhouse 
was erected during the Revolution, and this 
was garrisoned by a detachment of British 
troops. It served as protection to the plunder- 
ing loyalists who lived round about, safeguard- 
ing them in their seizing of cattle and horses. 
When the Continentals attacked the blockhouse 
in order to get back their property, they were 
repulsed by the garrison and forced to give up 
the attack, having lost sixty men. 








CNEDEN'S LANDING, or Paramus Landing 
^ as it was previously called, is in Rockland 
County, New York. It may be reached in the 
Twentieth Centtiry by a ferryboat which is the 
lineal descendant of the dugout in which Jere- 
miah Dobbs used to ferry his chance passengers 
across the Hudson. 

This same Jeremiah Dobbs was a Swede, a 
tenant of the Philipses. He was a fisherman 
by rights; but the income derived from selling 
fish not being sufficient, apparently, to maintain 
even his modest ways of living, he put his dug- 
out to use, and offered it as a means of crossing 
the river at the point now known by his name. 
So rapidly did his trade increase, and so well 
known did his ferry become, that the village 
springing up at its eastern terminus came to be 
called "Dobbs Ferry"; this is a deep regret to 
many residents of the present town. In fact, 
there have been public meetings held to agitate 
the question of this name, and several attempts 


238 Northward 

made to induce the Legislature to change it. In 
1830, Van Brugh Livingston filed deeds under 
the name of Livingston's Landing, and for a 
period of thirty years this name was in current 
use. In 1870 a meeting was held to arrange for 
the formal adoption of a name, and Jenkins 
gives the following account of the affair: 

"That [name] of Paulding, one of the captors 
of Andr6, was almost agreed upon when a gentle- 
man arose and made a speech in a serious vein 
to the following effect. He said he was no wor- 
shipper of Dobbs; he disliked that his home 
should be identified with such a low place as 
a ferry; double names especially were uncouth 
and tmdesirable; and he had known Paulding 
personally and could not brook him. Van 
Wart, who had also aided in the capture of 
Andr6, was a Christian gentleman; he, there- 
fore, moved that instead of calling the place 
Paulding-on-Hudson, the Van of Van Wart 
be stricken off and the place be called 'Wart- 
on-Hudson.' The speech gave such a ridiculous 
turn to the whole affair that the meeting broke 
up and nothing further was attempted at that 

Other efforts have been made to drive away 
the ghost of old Dobbs, but they have been im- 
availing. It appears that he is there to stay. 
From the days when he was one of the first 
settlers, dwelling in a shanty on Willow Point, 

Dobbs and Molly Sxieden 239 

he must have traveled far toward prosperity, 
for he and his ferry were of great importance. 

The boat in which he carried his first passen- 
gers was a canoe, dug out of a tree-tnmk. The 
one used now is a light motor-boat, propelled 
by a power which would no doubt seem as 
Satanic to old Dobbs as did the Headless Horse- 
man to his neighbor, Ichabod Crane. Never- 
theless, the methods of this modem ferry are 
somewhat primitive. To stmimon the present 
boat, one approaches a signal — ^an upright white 
square of wood — ^which stands at the water's edge ; 
pulls a rope which springs a trap door, and thus 
displays a black square on the white. The 
boatman, who may be reposing over at Sneden's 
Landing, puts off for the eastern shore, and it is 
well for the traveler if he be not in desperate haste. 

In the motor-boat you are tossed across the 
Hudson just where the passengers of Dobbs were 
tossed in colonial times, and later, those of Molly 
Sneden, the ferry mistress of the Revolution. 
That one end of the route should commemorate 
his name, the other hers, seems a fair division of 
fame. The ferry of to-day is used by a few 
dwellers on the west shore and is little known 
to the general traveler, the larger and more 
systematic boats from Tanytown to Nyack 
carrying most of the passengers for this region. 

Here where you have crossed, the British 
fleet was stationed from 1776 to 1783; and here 

240 NortH^ward 

the British navy first saluted the American flag, 
obeying the instruction of Parliament. 

Turning toward the land, you will see before 
you the house where Molly Sneden dwelt. It 
has been somewhat altered by the addition of a 
modem veranda, but if you will look at its rear 
side you will see the original house with the 
modem veranda blotted out, and the unbroken 
line of stone masonry, the old-time shutters, 
preserving the traditions of past days. 

Molly Sneden controlled the ferry after old 
Dobbs had laid down his oars. The Sneden 
family (Sneeden and Snyden are other spellings 
of the name) were hot Tories, and many an ad- 
venttire did the ferry participate in. Molly was a 
brave woman, and her grave, in the old cemetery 
above at Palisades, is preserved with honor. 

Tradition has it that in 1775 Martha Washing- 
ton crossed this ferry to reach General Washing- 
ton who was then at Cambridge. 

Near the Sneden house stands another dwell- 
ing of the same period, in which the roughly 
shaped stones of the Palisades themselves were 
laid for stout walls, as firm and weather-worthy 
to-day as in the seventeen-hundreds. 

To follow all of history's story which lies 
written through this part of the Hudson River 
district, you must climb the steep road leading 
from the ferry landing up the wall of rock. The 
road zigzags from one fine view to another, 

"The Big House •• 241 

a series of delightful river and land pictures 
accompanying you all the way to the top. 

By the sign of a flag-pole you may know when, 
in following this road, you have reached that 
building known as ''The Big House." Just be- 
yond the flag, on a green knoll which slopes 
on one side toward a bit of woodland, on the 
other toward the river, stands this mansion 
whose date of building is given as 1685 — ^that is, 
the foundation of its kitchen is said to have 
been laid in that year, almost a century before 
the Revolution. In its hall is a mahogany table 
at which Washington is said to have sat, and 
this inscription commemorates the fact: 

''At this table Gen. Washington is said to 
have dined in The Big House, Palisades, Rock- 
land Coimty, New York, during the Revolution- 
ary War. Property of the Palisades Library 
Association. Aug. 30, 1899.'' 

Above it, along the broad hall, stretch the 
giant beams of old days. A portion of the 
house is now used as a library. 

To the road again. It is smooth and wide 
and well-shaded much of the way. It leads to 
Tappan, the old town aroimd which centers the 
strongest historic interest of this trip, it being 
the spot upon which was written the last chapter 
of Andre's story. 

Tappan is about two miles from the ferry 
below, in the midst of a fertile valley. This 


242 NortHi^ard 

region was known during the Revolution as 
having abundant forage. It was well situated 
for an army encampment, and the Americans 
used the ridge to the southwest for this purpose; 
the shelter of the hills and the nearness of the 
river gave it value. When, in September, 1778, 
Lieutenant-Colonel Baylor was sent with a regi- 
ment of light horse to watch the British move- 
ments, and to intercept scouts and foragers, he 
made his headquarters at Tappan. 

As a restilt, the place became the scene of 
a serious event. His troops were camping in 
barns more than two miles below the village and 
were imarmed. Cornwallis saw an opportunity 
to take the Americans by surprise, as they 
were in a position of great insecurity. He sent 
General Grey, with some light infantry and 
other troops, to approach from the western side, 
and ordered that an approach on the east be 
made by a corps from Knyphausen's division, 
Knyphausen being then at Dobbs Ferry. The 
plan was to surroimd Baylor's camp, also 
Wayne's body of militia who were not far off. 
Wayne's men were warned of the plan, but 
Baylor's remained in ignorance. 

It was midnight when Grey silently approached 
the camp of sleeping men. They were entirely 
at the mercy of the enemy, and mercy was 
refused. Grey ordered that no quarter be 
given, soldiers were bayoneted outright, and 


The Home of Molly Sneden, the Jerry Mistress, at Sfieden's Landing. 

'The Big House/' at Palisades, N. Y., where Washington Sat at Table. The 
Table is now to be Seen there. 

The " yd Stone House/' ivJiere Andre was Imprisoned at Tappan. 

The Present Ferryboat, a Lineal Descendant of Jeremiah Dobbs's Dugout. 

"The No-Flint General *• 243 

sixty-seven of the one htindred and four men 
were wounded or killed. Baylor was taken 
prisoner, having been first wounded. 

Grey won for himself the reputation of hard- 
ness during the war in more ways than one. 
He was called ''The No-Flint General/' owing 
to his custom of forcing his men to take the 
flints out of their muskets, in order that they 
should be obliged to use the bayonet. 

That portion of the Andr6 story which was 
written hereabouts calls for a refreshed memory 
of the earlier portion which involved his capture 
at Tarrytown' — ^when, with the perilous papers 
crammed inside the soles of his stockings, he 
was taken by the three Apiericans, scorned when 
he showed Benedict Arnold's pass, searched, 
and summed up in Paulding's declaration, ''By 
God, he is a spy!" 

He had written frankly to Washington, telling 
his story quite fully — ^how he had gone up the 
river on the sloop of war Vulture, had met 
Arnold for the secret conference near Stony 
Point in the clump of fir trees. He had stopped 
at the house of Joshua Smith along with Arnold, 
and during that stop the Vulture, lying waiting 
for him in the river, had been fired upon, and 
Andr6 had made his escape with difficulty. To 
Washington he explained this situation; but 
his honesty could not save him. 

^.Chapter XVII. 

244 NortKivard 

It was on September 28, 1780, that he was 
taken across the river. Major Tallmadge was 
put in charge of the prisoner, and together the 
two men set out for Tappan. During that sad 
jotrrney Tallmadge acquired a warm interest in 
the brave and charming young officer. Riding 
horseback side by side, they fell into a conver- 
sation that partook of intimacy. Andr6 asked 
what feeling the American officers were likely 
to show regarding his case. Tallmadge held 
silence at first, thinking of the fate of Nathan 
Hale who had been his classmate at Yale College 
and whom General Howe had hanged four years 
before for an act of the same nature as Andr6's. 
At length, the question being repeated, Tall- 
madge referred to the fate of his friend. "But 
surely you do not consider his case and mine 
alike!'' Andr6 responded with surprise. Tall- 
madge was forced to answer: ''They are 
precisely similar, and similar will be your 

Reaching the railroad station at Tappan, you 
must cross the track and continue along the 
same road beyond to find the building used as a 
prison during this incident. On the way you 
will pass an old residence now known as the 
William Rogers house, the sixth on your left; 
local tradition calls this the Washington Head- 
quarters. The rear of the house is more indica- 
tive of its age than the front, which has been 

A.tteznpt8 to Save A.ndr6 245 

extended on the side toward the Sparkill River 
by which the lawn is flanked. The house is 
said to have been built in 1700. 

A little further along you come to the red 
church, the original of which was the building 
in which Andr6's trial was held. Fiske says: 

''A military commission of fourteen generals 
was assembled, with Greene presiding, to sit 
in judgment on the unfortunate young officer. 
'It is impossible to save him,' said the kindly 
Steuben, who was one of the judges. 'Would to 
God the wretch who has drawn him to his death 
might be made to suffer in his stead!' The 
opinion of the court was unanimous that Andre 
had acted as a spy, and incurred the penalty of 
death. Washington allowed a brief respite, 
that Sir Henry Clinton's views might be con- 
sidered. The British commander, in his sore 
distress over the danger of his young friend, 
could find no better grounds to allege in his 
defense than that he had, prestmiably, gone 
ashore under a flag of truce, and that when taken 
he certainly was travelling imder the protection 
of a pass which Arnold, in the ordinary exercise 
of his authority, had a right to grant. But 
clearly these safeguards were vitiated by the 
treasonable purpose of the commander who 
granted them, and in availing himself of them 
Andr6, who was privy to this treasonable pur- 
pose, took his life in his hands as completely as 

246 NortKiward 

any ordinary spy would do. Andr6 himself 
had already candidly admitted before the court 
'that it was impossible for him to suppose that 
he came ashore imder the sanction of a flag'; 
and Washington struck to the root of the matter, 
as -he invariably did, in his letter to Clinton, 
where he said that Andr6 'was employed in the 
execution of measures very foreign to the objects 
of flags of truce, and such as they were never 
meant to authorize or countenance in the most 
distant degree. ' The argtmient was conclusive, 
but it was not strange that the British general 
should have been slow to admit its force. He 
begged that the question might be submitted 
to an impartial committee, consisting of Knyp- 
hausen from the one army and Rochambeau 
from the other; but as no question had arisen 
which the military commission was not thor- 
oughly competent to decide, Washington very 
properly refused to permit such an tmusual 
proceeding. Lastly, Clinton asked that Andr6 
might be exchanged for Christopher Gadsden, 
who had been taken in the capture of Charleston, 
and was then imprisoned at St. Augustine. At 
the same time, a letter from Arnold to Washing- 
ton, with characteristic want of tact, hinting at 
retaliation upon the persons of sundry South 
Carolinian prisoners, was received with silent 

''There was a general feeling in the American 

Andre's Petition to be Shot 247 

army that if Arnold himself could be stirrendered 
to justice, it might perhaps be well to set free 
the less guilty victim by an act of executive 
clemency; and Greene gave expression to this 
feeling in an interview with Lieutenant-General 
Robertson, whom Clinton sent up on Sunday, 
the first of October, to plead for Andre's life. 
No such suggestion could be made in the form 
of an official proposal. Under no circumstances 
could Clinton be expected to betray the man 
from whose crime he had sought to profit, and 
who had now thrown himself upon him for pro- 
tection. Nevertheless, in a roundabout way 
the suggestion was made. On Saturday, Cap- 
tain Ogden, with an escort of twenty-five men 
and a flag of truce, was sent down to Paulus 
Hook with letters for Clinton, and he contrived 
to whisper to the commandant there that if in 
any way Arnold might be suffered to slip into 
the hands of the Americans Andr6 would be set 
free. It was Lafayette who had authorized 
Ogden to offer the suggestion, and so, apparently, 
Washington must have connived at it; but 
Clinton, naturally, refused to entertain the idea 
for a moment. The conference between Greene 
and Robertson led to nothing. A petition from 
Andr6, in which he begged to be shot rather 
than hanged, was duly considered and rejected; 
and, accordingly, on Monday, the second of 
October, the ninth day after his capture by the 

248 NortH-ward 

yeomen at Tarrytown, the adjutant-general of 
the British army was led to the gallows." 

The building in which the young British 
officer was imprisoned during these swift, bitter 
days is only a short distance beyond the church. 
''The '76 Stone House" it is called, and to-day 
its historic inscriptions are displayed amidst 
the announcements of a road house and the 
refreshments oiTered therein. Lossing, in de- 
scribing his visit to this building more than half 
a century ago, states that ''its whole appearance 
has been materially changed," and adds, "The 
room wherein the unfortunate prisoner was 
confined, and which was kept with care in its 
original condition more than half a century, has 
been enlarged and improved for the purposes of 
a ball-room I I was there a few years ago, when 
the then owner was committing the sacrilege, 
and he boasted, with great satisfaction, that he 
had received a 'whole dollar for the old lock that 
fastened up Major Andrew!' " Could Lossing 
visit the place to-day, with its billiard-room and 
liquor store within, its lager beer signs without, 
he would reflect even more sadly now than then 
that "sentiment does not obey the laws of trade 
— ^it seems to cheapen with a decrease of supply." 
A picture of Andr6, and some ancient relics, 
including a fiddle and oxbow, are to be seen 
within the building. 

From this building Andr6 was led forth and 

Execution of Andre 249 

Up the slope beyond, where you follow the road. 
Turning to the left on a branch that leads toward 
a knoll, you will reacli the spot where the execu- 
tion took place. A. circle of iron fence surrounds 
a simple stone. The inscription states that : 
''Here died, October 2, 1780, Major John Andr6 
of the British Army, who, entering the American 
lines on a secret mission to Benedict Arnold for 
the stirrender of West Point, was taken prisoner 
and condemned as a spy. His death, though 
according to the stern code of war, moved even 
his enemies to pity, and both armies mourned 
the fate of one so young and so brave. In 1821 
his remains were removed to Westminster Abbey. 
A hundred years after his execution this stone 
was placed above the spot where he lay, not to 
perpetuate the record of strife, but in token of 
those better feelings which have since tmited two 
nations, one in race, in language and in religion, 
with the earnest hope that this friendly union 
will never be broken/' 

Andr6 met death gallantly, although the bit- 
terness of dying as a spy, not a soldier, tortured 
him to the end. The execution took place at 
twelve o'clock. ''The principal guard-officer," 
wrote Dr. Thatcher, an army surgeon, who was 
present, "who was constantly in the room with 
the prisoner, relates that when the hour of execu- 
tion was announced to him in the morning, he 
received it without emotion, and, while all pre- 

250 NortH-ward 

sent were affected with silent gloom, he retained 
a firm countenance. • . . Observing his ser- 
vant enter his room in tears, he exclaimed, 
'Leave me, until you can show yourself more 
manly'. . . . Major Andr6 walked from the 
stone house in which he had been confined be- 
tween two of our subaltern officers, arm-in-arm. 
... It was his earnest desire to be shot, as 
being the mode of death most comf ormable to the 
feelings of a military man, and he had indulged 
the hope that his request would be granted. 
At the moment, therefore, when suddenly he 
came in view of the gallows, he involtmtarily 
started backward and made a pause. 'Why 
this emotion, sir?' said an officer by his side. 
Instantly recovering his composure, he said, ' I 
am reconciled to my death, but I detest the 
mode.' " 

On the previous day he had made a last appeal 
in a letter to Washington, asking that he might 
die a soldier's death. N. P. Willis translated 
the brave and dignified request into verse in 
this wise: 

It is not the fear of death 
That damps my brow; 

It is not for another breath 
I ask thee now; 

I can die with a lip unstirr'd, 
And a qtiiet heart — 

Let but this prayer be heard 
Ere I depart. 

Poem by N, P. Willis 251 

I can give up my mother's look — 

My sister's kiss; 
I can think of love — yet brook 

A death like this! 
I can give up the yotmg fame 

I bum'd to win; 
All — but the spotless name 

I glory in. 

Thine is the power to give, 

Thine to deny, 
Joy for the hour I live. 

Calmness to die. 
By all the brave should cherish, 

By my dying breath, 
I ask that I may perish 

By a soldier's death. 



THERE is a drowsy little old churchyard over- 
shadowed by thick branches, htimmed to by 
lazy bees — a spot that means more than we have 
as yet estimated in our literature's history. Let 
us travel toward it along the Hudson's east shore. 

Old Broadway, upon leaving Yonkers, began 
to climb a steep hill as it pushed on toward the 
north. The road being difficult, the Highland 
Turnpike Company took it in hand about 1806, 
straightened out its worst windings, smoothed it, 
and established a toUgate. Thus the name of 
''The Highland Turnpike" was applied to it, 
although the name that has remained through 
the years is that of the Albany Post Road. 

Along the water's edge nms Warburton 

Avenue, lined with fine country estates. Above 

it, on the hill, runs the old turnpike, which has in 

its day also been flanked by many famous estates. 

One of these was the home of C. H. Lilienthal, 

with its battlemented tower of brownstone, 

visible from the river. A high gray tower marks 


Peter Post 253 

the famous "Greystone," country house of 
Samuel J. Tilden, who was Governor, and candi- 
date for the Presidency of the United States. 
He was called the * ' Sage of Greystone. ' ' Samuel 
Untermyer owns the property now, and has 
made a practice of throwing open the magnificent 
grounds, gardens, and hothouses of rare flowers 
to the enjoyment of the public. 

Hastings lies next on old Broadway's route. 
Its site almost covers the old Post estate. One 
Peter Post formerly owned all this territory and 
occupied his small stone house here as far back 
as the time of the Revolution. But after that 
war the house, formerly a dwelling-place of good 
repute, fell into other hands, and came to be 
used as a tavern, and the good people round 
about were horrified by the genial company of 
cock-fighters and hard drinkers who gathered 
nightly under its roof. The resort grew to be 
notorious, but the worthy neighbors were even- 
tually appeased when its career as a tavern closed 
and it passed once more back into the oblivion 
of respectability, coming to be described as *'a 
neat cottage." 

Peter Post's encounter with a group of Hes- 
sians is a Hastings tradition. He was a loyal 
patriot, and he assisted Colonel Sheldon to 
surprise a party of the troublesome Hessians, by 
leading them to believe that the Americans whom 
they were pursuing were further ahead, whereas 

254 NortK-ward 

these same Americans were hidden in the rear 
and merely awaiting their chance. The Hes- 
sians passed on, the Americans sallied forth, to 
the end that only one marauder was left to tell 
the tale. Dead bodies of the Hessians were 
strewn in all directions. But the stirvivor made 
off to Emmerick's camp, did in fact tell his tale, 
and Post was the victim of the enemy's rage. 
He was all but killed by the blows he received. 
The affair occurred in 1777. 

From Hastings, Broadway pushes on to Dobbs 
Ferry. Here stands the so-called Livingston 
mansion. The house was built by a Dutch 
farmer, and it was probably not until many 
years after that the name of Livingston was 
connected with it. But it is best remembered 
as the home of Van Brugh Livingston; later it 
was owned by Stephen Archer, and the Has- 
brouck family have been recent occupants. 

The house has of late struggled bravely against 
decay. But although the yard and the roof 
and the veranda may be shabby, the treasures 
witiiin-doors are carefully preserved. One room 
is shown in which the Evacuation papers were 
signed. This is in the middle of the building, 
the front portion having been built on since 
Revolutionary days. A rosewood table, with its 
accompanying rosewood and haircloth chairs, 
is called "the Lafayette table," tradition hav- 
ing it that in times of large entertainments this 













Conference at Dobbs Ferrx ^55 

long and groaning board would be stretched 
diagonally across the room. 

In May of 1783, General Washington, with 
Clinton and their stiites, went down the river to 
meet Sir Guy Carleton who was to come up the 
river in a frigate and meet them at Dobbs Ferry. 
Here at the Livingston Mansion the conference 
between the commanders took place. On May 
8th the American party dined on board the sloop, 
where they were received with military honors 
and entertained with stately courtesy by General 

A montiment standing near the house records 
the fact that ''here, in 1781, the French allies 
under Rochambeau joined the American army. 
Here, in 178 1, Washington planned the Yorktown 
campaign, which brought to a triumphant end 
the war for American independence. Here, in 
1783, Washington and Carleton arranged for the 
evacuation of American soil by the British; and 
opposite this point a British sloop of war fired 
seventeen gims, the first salute by Great Britain 
to the United States of America." 

Southwest of the house is the horseshoe- 
shaped embankment where the remains of the 
military fort were to be seen for many years. 
The grotmd has now been leveled over. Dobbs 
Ferry was within the ''Neutral Ground" of the 
Revolution, and, like every other place within 
these limits, stiffered from marauders and raiders 

256 NortHiward 

of both sides. From the mouth of the Croton 
River east to the Sound ran the Americans' line 
of posts, that the enemy might be held off from 
the Highlands. The British line ran near the 
Harlem River, starting at Kingsbridge and reach- 
ing to Pelham and New Rochelle. The tract 
lying between, about a score of miles in width, 
belonging to neither side, was known as the 
Neutral Ground, and not only did the regular 
troops cause trouble to the dwellers within those 
twenty miles, but here the famous ''Cowboys" 
of the British and "Skinners'* of the Americans, 
mere lawless, marauding bands, robbed, burned, 
and murdered in their wild raids. 

At the upper end of the town's main street 
you come upon a pretty glen crossed by a rustic 
bridge. There is a story to the effect that the 
glen at this point was an old camping place of 
Indians, and that the British later on used it as 
a camping grotmd. The Indians knew Dobbs 
Ferry as "The Place of the Bark Kettle," and 
their settlement was probably located at the 
mouth of Wicker's Creek. 

At Irvington the post road enters what has 
come to be familiarly known as the land of Irving. 
A little blue sign reading simply "Stmnyside 
Lane" introduces the pilgrim to this land. You 
enter the shaded curves with a throb of beloved 
association: this is the lane that Irving tells you 
of, this is the brook — ^the wild brook, which "came 

"Wolfert's Roost 257 

babbling down the ravine and threw itself into 
the little cove where of yore the Water Guard 
harbored their whale-boats." The history of 
this home of Irving's is ftilly given in Wolf erf s 
Roosty wherein he explains the origin of its curi- 
ous name; how Wolfert ''retired to this fastness 
in the wilderness, with the bitter determination 
to bury himself from the world, and live here foir 
the rest of his days in peace and quiet. In token 
of that fixed purpose, he inscribed over his door 
his favorite Dutch motto, ' Lust in Rust ' (plea- 
sure in quiet). The mansion was thence called 
Wolfert's Rust, but by the uneducated, who did 
not understand Dutch, Wolfert 's Roost.'* 

At the end of the lane you enter the gates of 
the estate. Except upon the few days in the 
year when the present members of the Irving 
family reserve these grotmds for their private 
enjoyment, these gates are open to visitors. 
Any weekday other than a holiday the public 
is admitted. The stranger within the gates may 
stroll down the paths and out into the opening 
where trees part and that wonderful picture of 
the Tappan Zee, one of Irving's keenest delights, 
suddenly meets the eye. Here stands the 
famous house; once the Roost, later named 
Sunnyside, that "little old-fashioned stone man- 
sion, all made up of gable ends, and as full of 
angles and corners as an old cocked hat." It 
bears the same likeness to a cocked hat to-day 


258 Northward 

that it did when Washington Irving chose it for 
his abiding place, in the land which he had loved 
from his boyhood, when he had played along 
this part of the Hudson's shore. The trunks of 
the old vines which drape the building are 
grown to tree-like dimensions. In the tower the 
old bell still hangs, the bell which in early days 
summoned farm hands to gather. 

On the green circle in front of the house I 
foxmd a very little chap in modem Buster Brown 
garments and a wide straw hat; on that green 
circle, face to face with the Tappan Zee where 
British ships of war were once anchored, where 
*' stout galleys armed with eighteen-potmders 
and navigated with sails and oars, cruised about 
like hawks," the little chap was earnestly en- 
gaged in trying to fire a cannon of some four 
inches in length. ''Why won't it go off?" he 
demanded, rolling it forward on its diminutive 
wheels imtil it commanded the Tappan Zee. 
'' I want to shoot the enemy with it." From that 
''little Mediterranean" once "ploughed by 
hostile prows," there came not a sound; not 
even an excursion boat was to be seen; and at 
Wolfert's Roost, once a rallying place, a secret 
station from which the enemies of a nation could 
be watched, a point at which plots fermented 
and war hummed in the air, there was only 
a very little boy playing with a four-inch-long 

"The Storm-Ship" 259 

The Tappan Zee is about two and a half miles 
wide and ten miles long. It has played its part 
both in actual history, and in lore. It was a 
source of inspiration to Irving for much that 
he wrote. We can imagine that the legend of 
"The Storm-Ship" took form upon paper when 
he was gazing forth upon this water which the 
ghostly ship was said to haunt. 

''In the golden age of the province of the New 
Netherlands, the people of the Manhattoes were 
alarmed one sultry afternoon by a tremendous 
storm of thunder and lightning. Great was the 
terror of the good old women of the Manhattoes. 
They gathered their children together, and took 
refuge in the cellars; after having(hung a shoe on 
the iron point of every bedpost, lest it should 
attract the lightning^ At length the storm 
abated; the thunder sank into a growl, and the 
setting sun, breaking from under the fringed 
borders of the clouds, made the broad bosom 
of the bay to gleam like a sea of molten gold. 

'' The word was given from the fort that a ship 
was standing up the bay. It passed from mouth 
to mouth, and street to street, and soon put the 
little capital in a bustle. The arrival of a ship, 
in those early times of the settlement, was an 
event of vast importance to the inhabitants. The 
news from the fort, therefore, brought all the pop- 
ulace down to the Battery, to behold the wished- 
for sight. Many were the groups collected 

26o NortH^vard 

about the Battery. Here and there might 
be seen a burgomaster, of slow and pompous 
gravity, giving his opinion with great confidence 
to a crowd of old women and idle boys. At 
another place was a knot of old weather- 
beaten fellows, who had been seamen or fisher- 
men in their times, and were great authorities 
on such occasions; these gave different opinions, 
and caused great disputes among their several 
adherents: but the man most looked up to, and 
followed and watched by the crowd, was Hans 
Van Pelt, an old Dutch sea-captain retired from 
service, the nautical oracle of the place. He re- 
connoitred the ship through an ancient telescope, 
hummed a Dutch time to himself, and said 
nothing. A hum, however, from Hans Van 
Pelt, had always more weight with the public 
than a speech from another man. 

"In the meantime the ship became more 
distinct to the naked eye: she was a stout, round, 
Dutch-built vessel, with high bow and poop, 
and bearing Dutch colors. The evening sun 
gilded her bellying canvas, and she came riding 
over the long waving billows. The sentinel who 
had given notice of her approach, declared, that 
he first got sight of her when she was in the center 
of the bay; and that she broke suddenly on his 
sight, just as if she had come out of the bosom 
of the black thimder-cloud. The by-standers 
looked at Hans Van Pelt, to see what he would say 

Hans Van Pelt 261 

to this report; Hans Van Pelt screwed his mouth 
closer together, and said nothing; upon which 
some shook their heads, and others shrugged 
their shoulders. 

"The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but 
made no reply, and passing by the fort, stood 
on up the Hudson. A gun was brought to bear 
on her, and, with some difficulty, loaded and 
fired by Hans Van Pelt. The shot seemed ab- 
solutely to pass through the ship, and to skip 
along the water on the other side, but no notice 
was taken of it ! What was strange, she had all 
her sails set, and sailed right against wind and 
tide, which were both down the river. Upon 
this Hans Van Pelt set off to board her; but he 
turned without success. Sometimes he would 
get within one or two hundred yards of her, and 
then, in a twinkling, she would be half a mile off. 
He got near enough, however, to see the crew; 
who were all dressed in Dutch style, the officers 
in doublets and high hats and feathers; not a 
word was spoken by anyone on board; they 
stood as motionless as so many statues.*' 

The tale goes on to relate how much the gov- 
ernor was disturbed by the appearance of this 
ship ; how he called his council together repeatedly, 
sent messengers about, but could learn nothing 
of the ship and its mission. Captains of sloops 
seldom came in without bringing a report of 
having seen the strange ship at some point 

262 NortK-ward 

along the river; ''sometimes it was by the flashes 
of the thunder-storm lighting up a pitchy night, 
and giving glimpses of her careering across Tap- 
pan Zee, or the wide waste of Haverstraw Bayv 
Her appearance was always just after, or just 
before, or just in the midst of unruly weather; 
and she was known among the skippers and 
voyagers of the Hudson by the name of 'the 
storm-ship/ " 

Many theories were advanced concerning the 
origin of this vessel. Some "suggested, that, if 
it really was a supernatural apparition, as there 
was every natural reason to believe, it might 
be Hendrick Hudson, and his crew of the 

But "other events occurred to occupy the 
thoughts and doubts of the sage Wouter and his 
council, and the storm-ship ceased to be a subject 
of deliberation at the board. It continued, how- 
ever, a matter of popular belief and marvellous 
anecdote through the whole time of the Dutch 
government, and particularly just before the 
capture of New Amsterdam, and the subjuga- 
tion of the province by the English squadron. 
About that time the storm-ship was repeatedly 
seen in the Tappan Zee, and about Weehawk, 
and even down as far as Hoboken; and her ap- 
pearance was supposed to be ominous of the 
approaching squall in public affairs, and the 
downfall of Dutch domination. 

Jacob Van Tassel 263 

"Since that time we have no authentic ac- 
cotints of her. People who live along the river 
insist that they sometimes see her in summer 
moonlight; and that in a deep still midnight 
they have heard the chant of her crew, as if 
heaving the lead; but sights and sounds are 
deceptive along the motmtainous shores." 

Jacob Van Tassel was owner of Wolfert's Roost 
at the outbreak of the Revolution, and his re- 
publican sympathies were well known He made 
the Roost a rendezvous for American land- 
scouts, and also water-guards who lurked in 
coves along the shore in their canoe-shaped boats 
called whaleboats, to obtain information con- 
cerning the enemy, sometimes cutting off boats 
which attempted to approach the shore from 
British vessels. Van Tassel often accompanied 
his friends in their expeditions, leaving as garrison 
at home his wife, his sister Nochie Van Wurmer, 
a blooming young daughter, and a negro woman. 

On one occasion, when a boatful of armed men 
approched the shore from a vessel, landed, and 
attacked the house, the valiant garrison of four 
wielded broomsticks, shovels, and any other 
weapons of the kind available; but in spite of 
this noble defense the house was plundered and 
burned, and the beauty of the Roost was seized. 
Van Tassel's wife, sister, and the negro woman 
fought to get her back, battling down to the edge 
of the water; suddenly a voice from the fjigate 

264 NortHi^ard 

commanded that the prize be left behind, and, 
as Irving says, ''the heroine of the Roost escaped 
with a mere nmipHng of the feathers." Van 
Tassel's house was rebuilt upon the same site, 
and that second dwelling is the present house 
at Stmnyside. 

Emerging from Sunnyside Lane, you continue 
on Broadway past the estates of many wealthy 
residents who, as Jenkins says, ''thus far have 
succeeded in keeping the trolley cars from the 
historic highway, the last effort in that direction 
being in opposition to a bill before the Legislature 
of 1 910. To mention these owners would be to 
give a list of the greatest and best in the business, 
political, literary, and professional life of New 
York for several generations/' Lyndehurst, 
which became famous as the home of Miss Helen 
Miller Gould, now Mrs. Finley Shepard, is the 
most prominent of these residences. Its grotmds, 
like those of the Irving home, stand open to the 
public except on Sundays and holidays. The 
castle-like house stands in the midst of vast 
gardens and trees. At the foot of the slope, 
near the river, is an attractive brown-shingled 
building which Miss Gould erected as a club 
for the girls of the village, with meetings on 
Saturdays for various classes. Adjoining it is 
a tennis court for the girls. 

Years ago the estate was the home of Philip 
R. Paulding and was called "Paulding Manor"; 

Name of Tarryio"wn 265 

PhiKp Hone called it " Patilding's Folly," on 
account of its extravagance. Later it was known 
as ' ' Merritt 's Folly, ' ' the then owner, Mr. Merritt, 
having spent more than one hundred thou- 
sand dollars in the conservatories and green- 
houses whi«h are still in use. Jay Gould was a 
later owner, and his daughter inherited Lynde- 

The post road leads you on to Tarrytown. 
The origin of this town's name is disputed. 
'* Wheat Town*' is said by some to have been 
the meaning of the original name, '' Tarwe Dorp '* 
in Dutch, which latter has been gradually cor- 
rupted into ''Tarrytown." The name of two 
early settlers, the Terry brothers, is another 
origin ascribed. Irving offered the explanation 
that the farmers of the neighborhood used to 
bring their produce here to be shipped to New 
York, and on these occasions they tarried so 
long at the hospitable taverns around that the 
place came to be known as Tarrytown to these 
farmers' wives. 

On Broadway, between Tanytown and Sleepy 
Hollow beyond, stands a stately monument. 
It is of native marble, surmounted by the figure 
of a minute-man in bronze, resting upon his 
rifle. The scene of Andr6's capture is depicted 
in bronze bas-relief on the monument's base. 
Here, in September, 1780, Major John Andr6 
was captured by the three Americans, Isaac 

266 NortK-ward 

Van Wart, John Patdding, and David Williams. 
Andr6 had just consiimmated his plot with 
Arnold and was attempting to reach New 

According to Fiske, Sir Henry Clinton had 
warned the yotmg officer not to carry any papers 
which might endanger him. But Andr6 did 
not heed the advice, and he took with him from 
Arnold six papers, five of them being in the 
traitor's handwriting. They contained descrip- 
tions of the fortresses and information con- 
cerning the disposition of the troops. Andr6 
expected to tie up these papers with a stone in 
the bundle, so that he could drop them into the 
water in case of emergency; but in the meantime 
he placed them inside the soles of his stockings. 
With Joshua Sn:uth he crossed the river from the 
west shore where he had met Arnold, and started 
on his ride toward White Plains. Smith showed 
such timidity on account of the Cowboys and 
Skinners who infested the region, that Andr6 was 
obliged to stop with him at a farmhouse over- 
night, though delay was dangerous; next morn- 
ing Smith became so very nervous, when the 
journey was resumed, that Andr6 let him 
go back, and continued toward White Plains 

He now struck into the road which led through 
Tarrytown. He felt himself out of danger, and 
rode light-heartedly. But that morning a party 

The Signal for the Ferryman at Dobbs Ferry. 

^. '^^ 

The Livingston Mansion, Dobbs Ferry. 

The Old Mill at Philipse Manor {now Demolished). 

The Bridge at Sleepy Hollow. 

Papers in Andre's StocKin^s 267 

of seven young men had come forth with the 
purpose of intercepting some Cowboys who were 
expected; and when Andr6 came riding toward 
them about nine o'clock, near the creek above 
Tarrytown, three of the young men sprang out 
at him from the bushes, caUing ''Halt !'' They 
leveled their muskets at him because he was a 
stranger; had Smith, whom they knew, been 
along, there would probably have been nothing 
but a casual greeting. 

Believing that these were Cowboys, one of 
them happening to have on a Hessian's coat, 
Andr6 frankly said that he was a British officer 
and that his business was important. Upon 
that John Paulding, he of the Hessian coat, 
stated that the party consisted of Americans, 
and ordered him to dismount. 

The famous search followed, the papers were 
discovered in Andr6's stockings, and Paulding 
uttered his well-known words, '*By God, he is 
a spy!" The three young Americans showed 
their patriotism by refusing all bribes, and, 
taking their prisoner twelve miles up the river, 
they delivered him over to Colonel John Jameson 
who commanded a cavalry outpost at North 
Castle. Jameson sent the doctmients by an 
express-rider to Washington, but, being appar- 
ently of a credulous nature, he did not suspect 
the nature of the situation, and sent a letter to 
Arnold, which turned out to be the means of 

268 NortKipirard 

saving the traitor's life. Tallmadge happening 
to come in, Jameson talked over the matter 
with him, and the former immediately suspected 
that Arnold was not acting as he should; he 
wanted the letter, giving Arnold information, 
recalled, but it was too late. 

Arnold and his wife happened to be entertain- 
ing Hamilton and a party at breakfast when the 
letter arrived; he opened it, and read Jameson's 
ingenuous message, that ''one John Anderson 
had been taken with compromising documents 
in his possession.'' 

Arnold kept his presence of mind. He merely 
put the letter in his pocket, explained that he 
was suddenly called across the river and would 
soon return, and made his escape immediately. 

But Andr6 was prisoner. The rest of his 
story covered but a short period, imtil he was 
hanged as a spy on the knoll above Tappan, 
on the west side of the river. The names of his 
three captors have survived, as standing for 
true American alertness, force, and honesty. 

Irving speaks of the tree which used to stand 
at the spot where Andr6 was taken, and of the 
mournful cries and wailings heard, and the 
fimeral trains seen by the superstitious Dutch 
folk of Sleepy Hollow. 

Pass the monument and continue along the 
old post road, and Sleepy Hollow itself comes 
in sight at last. It is a good many years since 

IcKabod Crane 269 

its scribe said that '*a drowsy, dreamy influence 
seemed to hang over the land/' yet the ''listless 
repose of the place" is just the same to-day that 
it was in his time — save for the ubiquitous honk 
of the motor-car. Broadway cuts through the 
sleepy little hollow, and where Broadway leads 
the automobile is sure to go. Except for its 
whirr and honk, the spot still slumbers beside 
the Pocantico Creek. 

It is highly probable that this famous vicinity 
is better known to the purposeful tourist from 
remote regions than it is to the average New 
Yorker — ^just because he has always lived so 
near it, and known so much about it in a general 
way, that he has never taken the pains to observe 
it very closely with his own eyes. The little 
churchyard is almost ignored by the motorist — 
he hies past it at the high-speed limit of his 
gasolene charger, or as near that limit as he dares, 
with maybe a careless observation on the Ichabod 
Crane legend. The pedestrian, to whom gasolene 
is merely a convenience for taking out spots, 
may pause and observe; but the pedestrian is 
usually of the immediate vicinity. A catechism 
on the Sleepy Hollow localities would reveal less 
ignorance in the man from Ohio or the traveling 
school-ma'am from Iowa than in the resident 
of New York, or I lose my wager. 

Here is the creek beside which Ichabod Crane 
rode in his terrified efforts to escape the pursuit 

270 NortK-ward 

of the Headless Horseman. And here the 
bridge — ** 'If I can but reach that bridge/ 
thought Ichabod, *I am safe.' " "Just beyond 
swells the green knoll on which stands the white- 
washed church." Ichabod, you will remember, 
heard the black steed panting and blowing close 
behind him; he gave old Gtmpowder a kick in 
the ribs, and the horse sprang upon the bridge; 
immediately thereafter the goblin rose in his 
stirrups and threw his head at the tmf ortimate 

The original bridge could not very well be 
standing to-day, as it was a crude affair, easily 
worn away by time and water. But in 191 2 a 
handsome new bridge crossing the Pocantico 
at the same spot was dedicated, a memorial 
to the Sleepy Hollow tradition, and the gift 
of William Rockefeller. The visitor can stand 
upon it and gaze up the same slope toward the 
same church — ^the latter has suffered no change 
since that early day, and in it services are still 
held. The building was called ''a monument of 
bygone days'' even by Irving, for it had been 
built in the early days of the province, and the 
same tablet over the portal is as he described it 
— ^bearing the names of the church's founders, 
Frederick Filipson, the patroon of Yonkers, and 
his wife Katrina Van Courtland, of the Van 
Courtlands of Croton; a powerful family con- 
nection, as Irving observes, ''with one foot 

The Old Mill at Sleeps Hollow 271 

resting on Spiting Devil Creek and the other 
on the Croton River.'' 

All of the old graves cluster close around the 
church. Farther up the slope are newer ones, 
where members of the same old Dutch families 
have more recently been interred. Among these 
is the grave of Washington Irving. 

Tracing the creek downward a short distance 
from the church bridge one comes upon the 
Philipse Manor house, which is dated earlier 
than the one at Yonkers, as the family lived 
first in the upper coimtry and later moved nearer 
to New York City. The house is a spreading 
white building, stretched out under the shade of 
old trees. In its yard is one of the old wells of 
which Irving spoke as characteristic in all the 
Dutch yards; a ''moss-covered bucket suspended 
to the long balancing-pole, according to ante- 
diluvian hydraulics/' The creek makes a rather 
sharp curve near the kitchen door, and here are 
the few remaining timbers of the old mill. A 
section of one wall stands, showing a suggestion 
of door and windows. Beside it is a pile of lum- 
ber, gray from weather-beating, which has fallen 
from the other walls. 

The creek, haunted along its path by Indians 
in early days, still loses itself here and there in a 
green, dark tangle, and it takes no more than 
an average imagination to invest the spot with 
all the mystery and romance of the old tales. 

272 Northward 

The whole place slumbers; the only sign of 
energy is at one point, just below the bridge, 
where a montiment cutter diligently plies his 



HTHE old Sawmill River Road still pursues 
-■- much the same course up into Westchester 
Cotmty, New York, that it did in the days when 
Washington included it in his study of available 
routes for military moves. Tracing the course 
of the stream for which it was named, keeping a 
bit to the east of that river, it zigzags along 
through meadows, beside country estates, and 
ferrets out some of the most picturesque locali- 
ties in the whole county, not forgetting Elms- 
ford, where the British gtiide hid in the currant 
bushes, and the Four Corners where Betty 
Flanagan mixed that historic beverage, her 

The road to-day is stamped on an automobile 
map with the heavy red line which testifies 
to its excellence for man, beast, and machine. 
Starting from Yonkers, it works its way between 
the Hudson River and the White Plains Road, 
skirting the Pocantico Hills. 

A saw-mill which the old Dutchman, Van der 
i8 273 

274 NortK-ward 

Donck, long ago erected on this Westchester 
County stream, gave it the name of de Zaag kill, 
meaning Sawmill River. ''Nepperan" was the 
Indian name for the river, and it is sometimes 
called that to this day. 

A Mohican village originally stood at the 
mouth of the Nepperan. Nappechemak is 
given as the first name of the village, a Mohican 
word later corrupted into Nepperan, and later 
giving way altogether to the present '* Yonkers.'' 
The Indians had a strong settlement at this 
point when something significant occurred. 
Hendrick Hudson sailed up the Hudson River. 
The next event was the visiting of Dutch traders 
in his wake, and following this, the Dutch West 
India Company made settlements. The Indian 
days were already over. 

Now, in 1639, came Adrien Van der Donck. 
He was a lawyer from Holland. He is described 
as having been a right royal spender — ^in fact, 
quite modern as to his way of holding his purse 
strings — ^and as "Lord Van der Donck" he was 
known to all the country round, for his distinc- 
tion, his enterprise, and his lavishness. ''The 
Jonkheer's land, "meaning "Young Lord's land," 
came to be the name of the village which 
was practically his. "The Yonkers" (Dutch 
"j" being "y") was a natural corruption, and it 
was not tmtil well into the Nineteenth Century 
that mere "Yonkers" was accepted. 

THe Nepperan 275 

Governor Stuyvesant and the young lord 
were far from friendly, and Van der Donck's 
desire to become a patroon, forming his purchases 
of 1646 into a patroonship, were thwarted for 
many years. In 1653, however, only two years 
before his death, his old wish was gratified, per- 
mitting him to be known to posterity as the 
patroon of Yonkers. His saw-mill was the pio- 
neer of many mills, all utilizing the sturdy little 
Nepperan; many dams came, and the village 
eventually grew to be a milling city, manufac- 
turing rugs and hats as well as the carpets for 
which it is best known. Until 1892 the stream 
was continuously used for these mills, but the 
dams at last came to be considered a menace to 
public health, and the authorities broke them. 
This closed a chapter in the working life of the 
Sawmill River. 

The next figure of prominence in the story of 
Yonkers, following Van der Donck, was Freder- 
ick Philipse. '*The Young Lord's" widow had 
fallen heir to the land, and in time she turned 
her property over to her brother, Elias Doughty, 
who broke it up and sold it in sections to several 
persons. Frederick Philipse was one of these, 
and he was so ambitious a landowner that he 
set about acquiring the rest of the land and more 
too, going as far as the Croton River with his 
purchases. The English called Philipse the 
'* Dutch millionaire,'' and he was known to be 

276 NortK-ward 

the wealthiest man in the colony. He was 
greatly interested in contraband and piratical 
trade; according to Jenkins, "more than any 
other merchant, and his name was sent to Eng- 
land as one of those who should be investigated. 
He was one of the backers of Captain Kidd in 
Bellomont's time, and it is stated that Lord 
Bellomont remarked that 4f the coffers of 
Frederick Philipse were searched. Captain Kidd's 
missing treasures could easily be found.' As 
a result of Bellomont's attempts to suppress the 
'free' trade, Philipse resigned from the council 
and retired to his manor about 1698 and spent 
the remaining years of his life in its development. 
He died in 1702 at the age of seventy-six.'* 

Another Frederick Philipse, his grandson, 
succeeded as lord of the manor, and this lord's 
son. Colonel Frederick Philipse, followed in 175 1. 
He was the last of the manor-lords. He was a 
British sjmipathizer during the Revolutionary 
War, and his estate was confiscated in 1779 ac- 
cording to the laws which the State Legislature 
had enacted against loyalists. He went to live 
in England and was there reimbursed for the 
loss of his possessions to the amotmt of three 
htmdred thousand dollars. 

The old manor-house is to-day preserved for 
its historic value. The date of its building was 
1682, and the original house is a portion of the 
present one. The first Philipse erected a stone 

L-\jx\iry of tHe PKilipse Manor-House 277 

btiilding which was used as a trading post and 
mills. The second Philipse added to it in 1745, 
and the structtire of to-day was the restdt. Jen- 
kins describes the house as magnificent in its 
day: "Workmen and materials were imported 
from England especially for the construction of 
the mansion; and the elaborate carvings and 
workmanship are visible to-day. Every kind of 
available tree and plant that would grow in this 
climate was imported and planted in the gardens, 
which reached down to the bank of the Hudson 
in a series of terraces. Some of the boxwood 
hedges were in 1830 ten feet high. Every per- 
son of distinction who visited the province was 
made welcome and entertained by the manor- 
lord. In the attic of the house, so it was said, 
there were quarters for fifty household servants 
alone ; from which some idea may be gained of the 
lavish scale upon which these great landowners 
lived. Besides negro slaves, of which there were 
very few, the servants and employees consisted 
of bond-servants, or redemptioners. But these 
manor-lords were not landowners only; they 
were great merchants whose ships visited all 
parts of the world with which the navigation laws 
permitted them to trade and brought back the 
productions of every clime. Nor did they al- 
ways obey these laws; for it is a notorious fact 
that about one third of the colonial trade was 
contraband, and that the great, noble, and 

278 North-ward 

wealthy merchants of all the colonies thought it 
no sin to cheat the king of his revenue whenever 
they could find or make the opportunity. In 
addition to their foreign trade, they carried on a 
fur trade with the Indians in the valley of the 
Mohawk and as far west as the French permitted 
them to go." 

The famous romance of the old house, perhaps 
to be taken with a grain of salt, but altogether 
too charming to be lost from our illusions, is 
connected with Mary Philipse, daughter of the 
manor in pre-Revolutionary days. Here George 
Washington first met her, and here, tradition 
has it, his first love restilted. It is said that he 
grew exceedingly sentimental on the subject of 
the beautiful Mary, and that when he had to 
return south, to his plantation in Virginia, he 
engaged a friend in Westchester County to keep 
him informed of his fair lady's doings. '* Colonel 
Roger Morris is pressing his suit!" suddenly 
wrote the friend. Just why Washington let 
Colonel Morris carry off the prize is vague 
in history. Some say that he did seek Mary 
Philipse's hand and was refused. Others claim 
that, overpressed by affairs, he let the vivid 
colors of his romance fade. At any rate he had 
immortalized Mary Philipse by falling in love 
with her. 

The confiscated estates of Colonel Philipse 
were sold in 1785, and thus the old house 

Old Headstones in Churchyard, and a Corner of the Sleepy IIolloiv Church. 

The Old Dutch Church, Elmsford, Sister to the Sleepy Hollow Church, 

The Old Door of St. John's Church, Yonkers. 

The Featherstone House, Elmsford, where Washington and Rochambeau Conferred, and 
where the British Guide Hid in the Currant Bushes, 

St. John's CKurcH, YonKers 279 

passed on to the possession of Cornelius P. Low. 
Lemuel Wells was the next owner, and when 
he died intestate his widow and heirs divided 
the land into lots which were sold under the 
orders of the Chancery Court. 

It was Frederick Philipse, 2d, father of Miss 
Mary, who built the stone church of St. John 
about the middle of the Eighteenth Century as 
a sort of thank-offering for his well-prospered 
life. Its successor is a large Protestant Episco- 
pal Church, facing on Getty Square. For many 
years the original church remained, a fine relic 
of colonial architecture; it was not until 1870 
that the present building was erected in its place. 
The new building is spacious and handsome, 
with a fine brass pulpit, a carved font of Italian 
marble, and several good windows. The archi- 
tecture is Gothic. A portion of the old wall is 
included in the south side of the modem build- 
ing and can be readily picked out to-day, along 
with one of the ancient, low, arched doors. 

The second manor-lord acquired his Church of 
England training from a devout English mother 
who brought him up in Barbados. His grand- 
father, the first Frederick PhiHpse, was a mem- 
ber of the Reformed Dutch Church; hence, only 
by this accident of the English mother's affilia- 
tions, did the church of St. John come into 
existence. For a while it did not sustain its own 
clergyman, but depended upon monthly visits 

28o NortH-ward 

from the rector of St. Peter's at Westchester. 
The first building was put up in 1752, and after 
the second manor-lord's death his son, Colonel 
Philipse, secured a glebe to the church, carrying 
on his father's work. But until 1787 it remained 
a .mission. After 1764, it had certain ministers 
of its own, whom the Propagation Society in 
London furnished to it; the second of these, 
Luke Babcock, was involved in Revolutionary 
events to the extent of being captured by a 
party of raiders at the beginning of the war, for 
having been over-zealous in the king's cause. 
The affair was most cruel, and the clergyman 
died from the effects of the brutal treatment he 

George Panton succeeded to Babcock's labors; 
but the Revolution caused his work to be most 
discouraging as well as involving him in consid- 
erable danger. The building was burned in 
1 79 1, but the next year saw it rebuilt, and this 
second edifice remained until 1870. 

^ne of Yonkers' most interesting modem 
buildings is Hollywood Inn, also at Getty Squar^ 
William F. Cochran built it and presented it 
to the workingmen of the city, to be to them 
a club-house, unsectarian, a place where men 
could always find recreation and instruction in 
their idle hours without question of creed or 
money. ' It is said to be the pioneer working- 
men's club in the United States, and it has been 

Literatuire in YoxiKers 281 

studied and copied by other similar institutions 
all over the country. 

Jenkins suggests a theory that something in 
the atmosphere of Yonkers creates humor, call- 
ing attention to its noted humorists. ''Flora 
McFlimsey of Madison Square," that famous 
lady of a generation ago who was afflicted by 
having nothing to wear, emanated from the pen 
of William Allen Butler of Yonkers. "Eli Per- 
kins,'' whose name in real life was Melville D. 
Landon, lived and died there. Frederick S. 
Cozzens, author of the ''Sparrow Grass Papers" 
published in Putnam's Monthly , made his home 
there, and among present-day humorists the 
town lays claim to. John Kendrick Bangs. 
Others distinguished in letters, though not 
humorists, were Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 
and Dr. Dio Lewis. 

(£rom Yonkers the old Sawmill River Road 
leads you northward toward Ardsley, and just 
beyond this you come upon the historic house 
known as the Rochambeau headquartergj It is 
now the residence of the Odell family and is 
in excellent preservation. Here, not far from 
Dobbs Ferry which is so closely associated with 
his name, that distinguished Count, Jean Bap- 
tiste Donatien de Vimeur, made a brief home 
during the stressftd times in which he aided our 
country. It was in 1 780 that he came to America 
with a strong force, assisted in the capture of 

282 NoHhward 

Cornwallis at Yorktown, and remained several 
months in America, returning home to be raised 
to the rank of field-marshal by Loiiis XVI. 

Still farther up the road we come to the pic- 
turesque old town of Elmsford, formerly known 
by the names of Greenbtirgh and Hall's Corners. 
On one of the old maps the spot appears to be 
indicated by the word ''Tavern/' and a mile or 
two to the north we find another ''Tavern." 
The latter was probably the Four Comers, a 
place which figured to a considerable extent in 
Revolutionary doings. 

Col. J. C. L. Hamilton, great-grandson of 
Alexander Hamilton, is a resident of Elmsford 
and has in his possession many relics of the war 
period in that vicinity. Cornelius Van Tassel 
was his great-grandfather on the maternal side, 
and he still preserves the andirons brought from 
the old Dutch home of the Van Tassels. He has, 
too, the pewter basin which has figured in so 
many tales of the capture of Andr6. Some say 
that the young British officer ate his bread and 
milk from it on the day of his capture; Colonel 
Hamilton's opinion, however, is that he had 
but slight appetite for bread and milk. 

Down the co\mtry road below the Hamilton 
residence stood the home of Cornelius Van 
Tassel. It was here he lived at the time that he 
was captured by the British and taken to the 
old Sugar House Prison. The British and Tories 

Capture of Cornelius Van Tassel 283 

had already been making much disttirbance 
thereabouts and Van Tassel's dwelling, being a 
very good one for that period, caught their fancy 
for destruction. But although that building 
perished, there was soon a new one to replace it 
on the same site, and the second, now ancient in 
its turn, stands to-day. It is in good preserva- 
tion and is an excellent example of the architec- 
ture of the Sleepy Hollow school. 

After the original house had been burned, and 
Van Tassel carried off prisoner, his wife hid in 
an earth cellar. It was a few nights after the 
disaster that she heard the sound of hoofs, and 
thought the British were coming again. But 
suddenly she recognized a familiar whinny, and 
peered out to see, silhouetted in the night, her 
pet horse which had been driven off by the enemy 
and was now returning to his beloved home. It 
is said that she ran out from the cellar, threw her 
arms around his neck, and kissed him. His 
comradeship became a great comfort in her 
loneliness; for eleven months and eleven days 
Van Tassel remained a prisoner. 

Back in the center of Elmsford you will find 
a small bridge where the river intersects the 
main street — ^the Sawmill River. This modem 
structure is at the very spot where the old Storm's 
Bridge used to stand. Washington, coming south 
down the Sawmill Road with Rochambeau, was 
met at this bridge upon one occasion by his 

284 NortK-ward 

quartermaster. ''You cannot go further/' was 
the message which halted him. ''The British 
are coming just below.'' This was a surprise 
to the Chief who had laid plans that did not 
harmonize with a British encampment in the 
neighborhood, and thereupon he and Rocham- 
beau rode on to the " Featherstone House," as 
it is now called, to hold conference. This house 
was much used by Washington when in the 
neighborhood, and you will find it little changed 

It stands a short distance down the road which 
leads off southeast from the main street opposite 
the Roman Catholic Church. The present owner 
apologizes for not having rebuilt it, his inten- 
tions being to put up a new porch and a mansard, 
"bring it up to date"; fortunately we have this 
relic almost intact. Preserved in its cellar are 
some interesting old rafters of solid black wal- 
nut. Roof, windows, and doors and weather- 
beaten walls are delightfully ancient, but a 
thorough system of electric lighting throughout 
the house leads one to reflect upon what Wash- 
ington would say to this substitute for his candle. 

There is a well in the yard whose age is not 
vouched for, but the probability is that it is 
very old, possibly a relic of the Revolutionary 
period. The owner of the house says that the 
late Mr. Jacob Iselin of New Rochelle was par- 
ticularly fond of its waters, and had never ridden 

Tradition of tHe Currant BusKes 285 

Elmsford-way for fifty years without stopping 
for a drink. It is quite likely that Washington 
and Rochambeau tested its moss-covered bucket. 

It was in the currant bushes then surrounding 
this house that Jim Husted, the British guide, 
hid in 1777. The Americans had been having 
a little skirmish with the British near by, and 
the latter had been well trounced — Barrymore, 
the leader, and all his men being taken, it was 
supposed. Not for a long time was it discovered 
that Husted had escaped, saving himself in the 
depths of these ctirrant bushes. 

Returning to the main street, you will find 
the old church barely a block below it, to the 
south, near the railroad track. Next to it stands 
the pastor's house in which is kept the ancient 
key, which opens the church by grinding and 
groaning rheumatically in the ancient lock. 

In 1788 the church is supposed to have been 
built, although the loss of its records leaves a 
cloud hanging about its earliest history. Within 
and without it is typical of the severity of that 
period, when American settlers built their houses 
of worship for worship alone. The old-time 
gallery and bare walls are as they have always 
been. The church-going of the seventeen-hun- 
^dreds cost an effort. The Rev. Thomas Smith 
traveled all the way from Sleepy Hollow to hold 
regtdar services here, and the farmers flocked 
from long distances to pray. Thus this parish 

286 NortH^ward 

was linked with that famous Dutch Church 
above Tarrytown, which calls up all the Irving 
tradition by its mere name. 

Many an old record may be read on the crumb- 
ling stones. Here are seen such familiar names 
as- ''Van Tassel/' ''Romer," and "Van Wart." 
Among the modem stones is a montiment erected 
to the memory of Isaac Van Wart by the County 
of Westchester. The inscription reminds you 
that in September, 1780, ''Isaac Van Wart, ac- 
companied by John Paulding and David Wil- 
liams, all farmers in the county, intercepted 
Major Andr6 on his return from the American 
lines in the character of a spy, and, notwith- 
standing the large bribes offered them for his 
release, nobly disdained to sacrifice their cotmtry 
for gold, secured and carried him to the com- 
mander of the district whereby the dangerous 
and traitorous conspiracy of Andr6 was brought 
to light, the insidious designs of the enemy baf- 
fled, the American army saved, and our beloved 
country, now free and independent, rescued from 
most imminent peril." Fenced in with Van 
Wart's monument is a little slab snuggling 
quaintly at its base. It marks the grave of his 
wife, Rachel Storm Van Wart. 

Fronting on the main street of the village 
stands the Ledger House, considerably changed 
since the days when Abraham Storm, the origi- 
nator of Storm's Bridge, built it, but nevertheless 

The Old Four Corners 287 

the same fundamentally. Storm was a captain, 
and an active American from the beginning 
of the Revolution. He built his house on this 
site, saw it burned by the British, except a part 
which he saved, and rebuilt upon what was left 
so that the present hostelry is made up of both 

On past the Ledger House, the road leads 
eastward to White Plains. It is not the same 
as the original White Plains Road, though near 
it. It was up the old road, parallel to this, that 
the quartermaster found the French had marched 
when he went back to the bridge at Washing- 
ton's command to stop them, and order them to 
camp here for the night. There is a theory that 
they may not have understood the command 
in English, at any rate they marched on east- 
ward while Washington and Rochambeau, in the 
Featherstone house, were laying other plans for 
them. The heat was such as they had never 
before endured, and four hundred of them were 
overcome. They were taken to the French 
hospital, a building now standing, somewhat 
south of the trolley line leading to White Plains. 

To the north of Elmsford was the old Pour 
Comers, lying on the road that led from Sleepy 
Hollow to what is now North White Plains, at 
the point where this road intersected the Sawmill 
River Road. At present there is not a landmark 
left except for the old schoolhouse on the site 

288 Northward 

where Patdding went to school in the original 
building. The Patilding farm adjoined it. 

But a century and more ago this was a most 
active locality. At the Pour Comers stood the 
home of Joseph Young, and the American troops 
found his dwelling a convenient place to make 
headquarters. Accordingly they came there 
and remained there, the commanders living in 
the house and the soldiers occupying the many 
outbuildings as barracks. Military stores and 
provisions were hoarded there. 

From August of 1776 to February of 1780 the 
Americans were quartered here much of the 
time, and many were the skirmishes in and about 
the old Four Comers. At one time Captain 
Williams of the American army and his forty men 
were attacked by British refugees. The Captain, 
a party of soldiers, and Joseph Young himself, 
were taken prisoners. For a year Young was 
confined in New York City, while his bam up 
at the Four Comers was burned by the British 
and a large stock of his cattle stolen. Later, a 
petition of Martha, Samuel, and Thomas Young 
recorded the fact that in February, 1780, there 
was an attack on the post by one thousand 
British troops and refugees, and "all the cloth- 
ing, bedding and furniture of said Joseph Young 
destroyed at that inclement season of the year." 

This region is closely associated in tradition 
with Fenimore Cooper and his ''Westchester 

M« N' ;«ii b! ifi "1 

• li I 'I HI i ii I 1} I 

The Phi! ipse Mail or at Yonkers. 

Washington 's Headquarters during Battle of White Plains. A t North White Plains. 

A Mortar Used at the Battle of White Plains. 

The Old Inn at Scarsdale, where Drovers Used to Stop in Revolutionary Days. This 
Was also the Stopping-Place for the Old Mail Coach. 

Betty Flanagan's CocKtail 289 

Spy." Here the tale was laid, the site of the 
hamlet of the Fotir Corners was the stage of the 
drama. According to Bolton, a little west of 
the Van Wart residence stood the '* Hotel Flan- 
agan, a place of refuge for man and beast.'' 
The sign ''Elizabeth Flanagan, Her Hotel," 
hung before it. Betty Flanagan lived, after her 
soldier husband had fallen for his cotmtry, by 
driving a cart to various military encampments 
and serving refreshments. At this time the Vir- 
ginia Cavalry happened to be making the Four 
Corners their headquarters, so Betty had brought 
her cart hither, and here she was stationed when 
the lawless Skinners dragged in the peddler Spy. 
Perhaps the most interesting item recorded 
in the history of Betty is that ''she is said to 
have invented the well-known beverage vulgarly 
called 'cocktail.' " 



T EADING into the heart of Westchester 
*-' County was the old White Plains Road. 
Along this route the mail was carried, at its inns 
the stagecoach stopped, its dust was raised by 
the tramp of Howe's army. Perhaps children 
crept forth, half hiding, from some wayside 
farmhouse to watch the redcoats pass; perhaps 
a frightened calf flung up its heels and galloped 
off into the fields; perhaps a farmer warned his 
wife to hide her fresh-baked loaves. 

This road is still a highway, and may be fol- 
lowed to-day. From Bronxdale it passes north 
through Olinville, Wakefield, and Mount Vernon. 
For a space it unites with the old Boston Road; 
McTeague's Comers was the name of the point 
where the two met. They continued as one from 
Williamsbridge north, until, at the head of Black 
Dog Brook, the Boston Road asserted its inde- 
pendence and made toward Eastchester. 

White Plains Avenue of the present is equiv- 
alent in a general way to the old highway, al- 


"TxirKey Hollow •• 291 

though it is inclined to keep a trifle to the west 
of the original line. At some places it follows 
exactly in the earlier path. Beyond Bronxville, 
we shall find the Post Road marked, and a mile- 
stone at Scarsdale bears witness to the present 
road's integrity. 

On the west of the road lies the town of Tucka- 
hoe. Bolton tells the story of an early driver of 
a market wagon who used to come down this 
valley, famous for its wild turkeys, shouting 
''Turkey, ho!" as he reached the village. 
The name of the place was really formed from 
an Algonquin word meaning ''the bread," but 
there were formerly many jokes in circulation, 
playing upon the resemblance of "Tuckahoe" 
to "Turkey Hollow." 

Here before you are the Tuckahoe Heights 
where Washington's advance corps lay during 
that throbbing week which culminated in the 
Battle of White Plains. Two thousand men 
under General Scott waited here. 

Scarsdale is beyond. Beautiful Scarsdale of 
to-day is connected in our minds with suburban 
ease; but it had a yesterday, and at times a 
strenuous one. Settling America once upon a 
time was no easy task.. The Heathcote and 
the Tompkins families were among those who 
created the town. 

Several very old buildings are to be seen here- 
abouts, well-preserved types of former days. 

292 NortKi^ard 

One of these fronts directly on the Post Road: 
a long, low brown house, flanked by a broad 
lawn, quaintly gabled and touched with moss. 
This was the wayside inn of pre-Revolutionary 
days, the well-known and much-patronized 
hostelry where the drovers stopped for refresh- 
ment on their way from the West — ^meaning 
Ohio — ^into New York. The mail coach, too, 
stopped here regularly. There is a story con- 
nected with the place: it is said that the man 
who owned it at the time of the Revolution, upon 
hearing that the British approached, hurried to 
hide in the cellar his two most precious posses- 
sions, namely his Bible and his cow. He himself 
hid in the secret chamber. The old doors still 
show marks supposed to have been made by the 
enemy's sabres, for the house was besieged, but 
the Bible and the cow came through the siege 

Near this building stands one of the original 
milestones, carefully preserved by a bowlder 
which protects it from wind and weather. Al- 
ready the inscription on the old red stone is all 
but erased by time. The date given is 1771. 

The Saxon origin of the town's name, from 
the word ''scarrs," meaning ''ccags," is a ''dale 
enclosed with rocks;" h'he Heathcote family 
brought the name from their own Derbyshire., 
The town has boasted many distinguished in- 
habitants in its time: Daniel D. Tompkins, 

ToxnpKixls's Escape 293 

Vice-President of the United States, was born 
here in 1774. Fenimore Cooper lived in a 
''chateau" here once upon a time, a building 
which has unfortunately been demolished. In 
The Spy Cooper treated of this locality. It was 
included in the '' Neutral Ground '' which formed 
the stage setting of the many ''Cowboy'' and 
'' Skinner '' dramas. 

Scarsdale was well populated with Tories 
during the Revolutionary period — indeed it has 
been said that only three families of patriots 
lived here, although this may have been an ex- 
aggeration of the Toryism of the place. How- 
ever, its sympathies were chiefly with the British, 
and Judge Caleb Tompkins, one of the patriots, 
suffered great discomfort from a situation into 
which his loyalty to the American cause forced 
him. In fact, it became necessary for him to 
leave his own house, and flee for his life from the 
British, probably doubting whether he should 
ever see Scarsdale again. He loaded an ox-cart 
with all the household goods he could gather 
together for speedy departure, and fled. Just 
northeast of White Plains was a swamp; upon 
reaching this, he found the enemy in such close 
pursuit that there was no use fleeing farther. 
He therefore abandoned his cattle and sent them 
into the woods near Kensico. He next hid 
himself by entering the swamp and walking out 
in it to such a depth that only his head remained 

294 NortH-ward 

above the water. The restilt was that he made 
his escape, and returned happily to his Scarsdale 

The tract of land which included Scarsdale 
was ceded by its owners, the Mohicans, to John 
Richbell, in the year 1660. Richbell is supposed 
to have been the first white man to settle in the 
town. The Indian district called ''Quaroppas'' 
lay hereabouts, and the tract was a portion of 
it. The land was finely wooded, and the eastern 
angle of the town later on came to be known 
as the ''Saxon Forest,'' which name came from 
William Saxon, the proprietor of a saw-mill. 
Gradually the forest was cleared, but even in 
the time of Bolton's writing, it ''abounded with 
foxes, rabbits and other wild game, and retained 
much of its ancient grandeur." 

To the northwest of the Post Road lies a high 
ridge. Along this ridge the two British generals, 
Clinton and De Heister, led their men on the 
eventful twenty-eighth of October in 1776. 
Now we are in the thick of preliminaries; ap- 
proaching White Plains, we picture the various 
approaches of the soldiers along different paths, 
all converging toward the historic town. 

Hartsdale, on our way, known to the present 
as an attractive residence town, was one of twin 
villages — Hartsdale and Hart's Corners. Across 
the Bronx from its peaceful boundaries one of 
the Revolutionary skirmishes took place. This 

Covirt House at White Plains 295 

happened only a few hours before the Battle of 
White Plains, when the troops of both sides were 
on their way to the greater conflict which took 
place on Chatterton's Hill. 

Its Methodist Episcopal Church had the dis- 
tinction of being organized, and the building 
erected, '4n 1832, during the first cholera 
season/' Into this organization was absorbed 
a small church which stood to the north, at the 
Rocks of Scilly. 

White Plains, the county seat after 1759, was 
the destination of the old road. Well in the 
center of town is the site of the first court-house. 
Follow Railroad Avenue to South Broadway, 
turn to the right along the latter street, and at 
the intersection of Mitchell Place you will find 
the site. The present building is the town's 
armory; in front of this stands a monument 
surmounted by a broad-winged eagle, and 
bearing this inscription: 

''Site of the County Cotut House where, on 
July 10, 1776, the Provincial Congress pro- 
claimed the passing of the dependent colony 
and the birth of the independent State of New 

The first court-house was erected here in 1759, 
upon the removal of the courts from Westchester. 
In 1760 the first Cotirt of Common Pleas as- 
sembled here, on May 27th. The building was 
burned, but the second and third were erected 

296 NortK-ward 

on the site of the first. It was here that the 
Whigs of the county of Westchester appointed 
to meet the committees of the several towns, that 
they might elect deputies to the Continental 
Congress, who were to assemble on the first of 
September, 1774, in Philadelphia. 

General Nathaniel Woodhull, the same brave 
soldier whose capture we traced at HoUis, on 
Long Island, was at the head of the Provincial 
Congress and highly honored as its President. 
So not only in that old tavern where De Lancey's 
major attacked him for refusing to say, ''God 
save the King!'' but here in old Westchester 
County, we are reminded of his services to his 

Dr. Robert Graham, a young physician who 
came to White Plains from Connecticut, was a 
most public-spirited man and ambitious for his 
adopted town. It was largely through his efforts 
that the court-house was built here, and the 
courts removed from Westchester. The land 
upon which the building was erected was his 
gift to the county. 

No sooner had this change taken place than 
White Plains became a bustling center of busi- 
ness. Two hotels sprang into being, with almost 
the haste displayed in a mushroom town of the 
West. Visitors came to town, in great ntimbers 
for those days, and the hotels drove a brisk 
trade. A country store was needed, and Dr. 



CO ^ 

.s -S ^ 

pp N 

8 ^^ 

The Disbrow Chimney at Mamaroneck, where Cooper's 
^' Spy'' is Said to have Hidden. 

The Monument to Early Huguenots, at their Landing Place, Bonnefoi 
Point, New Rochelle, 

The White Balsam 297 

Graham himself built one. It stood opposite 
the court-house, and came to be the sort of social 
center which the country store has always been 
from that day to this — ^the men's club of the 
hamlet, the headquarters in which gossip and 
spicy tales may be exchanged, business deals 
discussed and consummated, woes poured forth 
into sympathetic ears,and congratulations offered 
on such occasions as a good trade in live stock, 
the news of a fat legacy, or the arrival of a pair 
of plvimp and lively twins. 

White Plains (so named from the white bal- 
sam which grew all over the region in early days) 
is associated in every mind with one of the 
British and American struggles which preceded 
the fall of Fort Washington. To trace the his- 
tory of the battle one must go to North White 
Plains, a distance of about a mile from the 
original town. One can go by train, but the walk 
is delightful, along Broadway with its sweeps 
of green lawn and fine old residences standing 
far back from the street. About half-way be- 
tween the two towns is the old mortar, pre- 
served from the days of 1776. 

The situation in September of that year was 
like this. The Americans were strongly en- 
trenched upon Harlem Heights, and Howe de- 
cided that his only means of making trouble 
would be to get in their rear and hem them in 
upon the head of the island of Manhattan. 

298 NortHuvard 

Leaving some of his army under Lord Percy, 
he took the rest, embarked them upon ninety 
flatboats, and contrived to get through the 
dangerous passing of Hell Gate, landing upon 
Throg's Neck. 

''A few days afterward," says Lossing, "other 
troops from Montressor's Island and Flushing 
landed there; and on the twenty-second, Knyp- 
hausen, with the second division of German 
hirelings, just arrived at New York, landed 
upon Myers' Point, now Davenport's Neck, 
near New Rochelle/' 

The British now had a good position along the 
shore. Washington, perceiving the movement, 
sent General Heath with strong detachments to 
oppose the enemy's landing and occupy lower 
Westchester. A redoubt was thrown up near 
Williamsbridge; all passes to Kingsbridge were 
well guarded, and now entrenchments were 
made at White Plains by a detachment there. 
Colonel Hand and his riflemen guarded the cause- 
ways to Throg's Neck and Pell's Neck. Howe 
landed, and on the same night he found himself 
upon an island, the bridge having been removed. 

He first laid the blame upon some Tories who 
were acting as guides, but ascertained the truth 
later and realized that his best course was to 
decamp, Colonel Hand having driven him back 
from the causeway with the assistance of Pres- 
cott and Lieutenant Bryant. Returning to his 

"CroucHed as a Ti^er'* 299 

boats, he made his way to Pell's Point, later to 
New Rochelle, and finally took a position near 
Knyphausen. This, then, was the position of 
the British that Washington looked forth upon: 
they were established upon the mainland; and 
with his army weak in training, and cold weather 
approaching, he had little to reinforce his 
hopes. "A powerful enemy, well provided, was 
crouched as a tiger within cannon-voice, ready 
to spring upon its prey/' 

Washington called a council of war at General 
Lee's headquarters, and it was decided to aban- 
don the island of Manhattan. The main part 
of the American army was now sent forward, 
marching in four divisions up the west side 
of the Bronx River and forming a series of 
entrenched camps up to White Plains, all the 
way from Fordham. 

Parallel to them farther east, the British 
forces also moved north. Frequent skirmishes 
now took place. The fact that the Americans 
came out triumphant in most of these miniature 
frays, gave them, no doubt, greater heart for the 
days ahead. The four generals, Lee, Sullivan, 
Lincoln, and Heath were in command of the 
marching Americans. 

To the west of the town of White Plains you 
will see a slope rising. This is Chatterton's 
Hill, still known by the name of those old days. 
Here the Americans made a hasty breastwork, 

300 Northivard 

Colonel Haslet, with about sixteen hundred men, 
occupying this eminence. M'Dougal reen- 
forced Haslet and took general command there 
the next morning. Both armies were now close 
to White Plains; on the morning of the twenty- 
ninth of October the British army, thirteen 
thousand strong, moved toward the village. 

After a council, the British general caused 
a bridge to be erected over the Bronx, and 
he attempted to cross by this and dislodge 
the Americans from Chatterton's Hill. But the 
enemy was forced to recoil in the face of the 
American guns, in charge of Captain Alexander 
Hamilton, and they fell back to join another 
division a quarter-mile below. 

The combined force now pushed up the south- 
western side of Chatterton's Hill. M'Dougal 
put up a brave fight, holding his position with 
only six hundred men for an hour, but at last 
an attack upon his flank compelled him to give 
way. He retreated in good order down the 
southeastern side of the hill, under cover of 
troops led by Putnam. The victors remained 
in possession of only the breastworks on the hill; 
M'Dougal was able to carry off his wounded 
men and his artillery. 

''The British troops rested upon their arms 
all night after the battle,'' Lossing tells us, 
''and the next day, after a skirmish with Glover's 
brigade, they encamped within long cannon 

Washington's WitKdrawal 301 

shot of the front of the American lines. Awed 
by the apparent strength of Washington's en- 
trenchments, Howe dared not attack him, but 
awaited the arrival of Lord Percy, with four 
battalions from New York and two from Mamar- 
oneck. The loss of the Americans, from the 
twenty-sixth to the twenty-ninth, did not ex- 
ceed probably three hundred men, in killed, 
wounded, and prisoners; that of the British was 
about the same. Earl Percy arrived on the 
evening of the thirtieth, and preparations were 
made to storm the American works the next 
morning. A tempest of wind and rain arose 
at midnight, and continued for twenty hours. 
All operations were delayed, and on the night 
of the thirty-first, while the storm clouds were 
breaking and the British host were slumbering, 
Washington withdrew and encamped upon the 
heights of North Castle, toward the Croton 
River, where he had erected strong breastworks 
along the hills which loom up a hundred feet 
above the waters of the Bronx. Howe was 
afraid to attack him there, and on the night of 
the fourth of November he retreated toward 
the junction of the Hudson and Harlem Rivers, 
and encamped upon the heights of Fordham." 

If you are walking north on Broadway you 
will come to the historic mortar just after pass- 
ing Crane Avenue. It stands on the west side 
of the street upon a heavy base which is a 

302 NortHiward 

remnant of the Revolutionary entrenchments of 
October, 1776, and they *'mark the final stand 
by General Washington at the end of his long 
retreat ; the abandonment by General Howe of his 
purpose to capture the American army; and the 
revival of the hopes for national independence." 

All the eagles and soldierly figures of the ordi- 
nary montiment sink to insignificance beside the 
simple emphasis of this old mortar, a genuine 
relic of the engagement. 

The end of your long walk to North White 
Plains is one of our most delightful historic houses 
— delightful largely because of its pictturesque 
remoteness and shabbiness — Washington's head- 
quarters. It is the little old farmhouse that 
sheltered him during his stay in White Plains. 
The ridge where Washington presented so for- 
midable an appearance as to alarm the British 
army confronts you; to the left is the little 
village store and post office in one: the gen- 
eral dispensary of mail, cough syrups, break- 
fast foods, and lemon soda. Straight ahead 
past the store, the branch of the main road leads 
to the old house. 

You must pass into the deeply dusty road of 
the woodsy country, and plunge into the midst of 
trees, where a dense tangle grows at the base 
of the ridge. To the left you will hear the hoot 
of engines from the track below; to the right 
lies solitude. And then, all of a sudden emerg- 

WasKin^ton's Headquarters 3^3 

ing from the thick green growth with its deep 
shadows, a glimpse of a weather-beaten gray 
wooden btiilding finally meets your eye. 

Bolton describes it as ''situated amid a deep 
solitude of woods, surrounded by hills and wild 
romantic scenery," and then he quotes the 
following description. It was written by a New 
York newspaper correspondent in 1845, and is 
an interesting example of the newspaper style 
of more than a half -century ago. 

''When we entered the little room of Mr. 
Miller's farmhouse, where that great and good 
man had resided, and where he resolved to try 
the hazard of a battle, with a flushed and suc- 
cessful foe, we coiold not repress the enthusiasm 
which the place and the moment and the memory 
inspired. We looked around with eagerness at 
each portion of the room on which his eye must 
have rested, we gazed through the small window 
panes, through which he must have so often and 
so anxiously looked toward the enemy, and at 
the old-fashioned buffets, where his table ser- 
vice was deposited for his accommodation. But 
little change has taken place in the building." 

But little change has taken place now, except 
for the wear and tear of time. In 1851 Lossing 
visited it and found Miss Jemima Miller, a 
maiden ninety-three years of age, and her sister, 
somewhat younger, living there in what had 
been their childhood's home. They were then 

304 NortK-ward 

careftdly preserving a chair and table used by 
the Chief. Abraham Miller owned the property 
at that time, but with the change of occupants 
the treasured pieces of furniture have been 
taken away and are now preserved in other 
dwellings. A German family occupy the place 
and it is in a state of sad dilapidation. 



town, Mass., traveled from Boston to New 
York in the year 1704. Riding horseback her- 
self, she was guided by the post-rider, following 
his way to New Haven, Rye, New Rochelle, 
and New York. In these words she stunmed 
up her journey: 

Through many toils and many frights 
I have returned, poor Sarah Knights 
Over great rocks and many stones 
God has preserved from fractured bones. 

To-day the same route, or approximately the 
same, is covered by a rapid railroad, by smooth- 
running trolleys, and by an excellent automobile 
road. Along it lies much of the greatest historic 
interest of Westchester County. 

The old road started from the fort at the foot 

of Broadway, opposite the Bowling Green, where 

the Custom House now stands; pursued its way 

along Park Row, the Bowery, across Spu3d:en 

20 305 

3o6 NortK-ward 

Duyvil Creek, and so on through Westchester 
County until it brought up at Washington 
Street in Boston. 

Beyond Spuyten Duyvil Creek, the road 
passed near the Fort Independence known to 
early American patriotism; the Negro Fort; 
crossed Rattlesnake Brook; and entered the 
town of Eastchester, now included within the 
boundaries of Moimt Vernon. 

Eastchester dates back to 1664, when the 
first settlement was made near the Hutchinson 
River, named for Anne Hutchinson. The little 
stream is still picturesque in spots, where build- 
ings have not crowded and where trees flank it 
and wild flowers gather along its banks. Upon 
this stream, saw- and grist-mills were established 
in early days, those of John Tompkins and 
Stephen Anderson having been noted in their 
day. Houses gathered gradually, and the chtu-ch 
reared its steeple in their midst. In 1692 
the first church was built, and a tablet on the 
present building gives its history in brief: 

" This church stands on the ancient village 
green of Eastchester, a general training ground 
and election place in Colonial days and enlisting 
headquarters for Revolutionary soldiers. The 
first meeting house, erected on the green north 
of this church, 1692- 1699, adopted the worship 
of the Church of England, 1702. This church, 
erected 1761-65, was used as a military hospital 

Deserter H\jin^ to Signpost 307 

during the American Revolution; converted into 
a Court House 1787/' 

The stone and brick work are sound to-day, 
the building and grot;nds being finely preserved. 
In the churchyard six thousand lie sleeping. 

Directly across the street stands an old white 
house on whose doorplate we read the name 
'' Fay.'' This is the only one left of the early 
Eastchester homesteads. The Fays, from Ver- 
mont, settled here in 1732. During the Revolu- 
tion the house Was used as a tavern and was 
much favored by British officers. The most 
thrilling event in its history was the hanging of 
a British deserter to the signpost which stood 
before the door. 

One Billy Crawford was conducting it during 
these days, but after the war the Fay family 
returned to it. One of the distinguished mem- 
bers of the family once living here was Theodore 
Sedgwick Fay, for nearly twenty years minister 
to, Switzerland. 

At Sixth Street in Mount Vernon the road 
crosses the Hutchinson River, continues past 
Pelham, an old manor, and enters New Rochelle. 

In 19 1 3 the people of New Rochelle celebrated 
the two-hundred-and-twenty-fifth anniversary 
of the event which gave birth to that town. 
In the year 1688 the French Huguenots set foot 
upon Bonnefoi Point, now Davenport's Neck, a 
group of jutting rocks which thrust themselves 

3o8 NortK^ward 

out into the waters of Long Island Sound. A 
small playground which New Rochelle preserves 
for the public and calls Hudson Park to-day 
encloses the spot, marked by a monument, 
where the first Huguenot foot is supposed to 
-have been set. 

It was after the revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes that these French Protestants found 
refuge here. They had made attempts to colo- 
nize in our Southern States dtiring their earlier 
persecutions, but when the edict issued by 
Henry IV in 1598 secured them full toleration, 
both civil and religious, they returned to their 
own country. The death of Cardinal Mazarin 
in 1 66 1 marked the beginning of renewed perse- 
cutions, and in 1685 Louis XIV revoked the 
edict. That act caused the exodus of at least 
400,000 people — some historians place the num- 
ber as high as 500,000. France was said to 
have lost the riches that flowed from skill, so- 
briety, and industry. 

The silk weavers moved their art to England. 
Thrifty farmers laid out farms in America. The 
refugees who came to our shores scattered to 
Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Virginia, and 
New York, and here on the shore of the Sound 
they chose a home and named it for their own 
La. Rochelle in Prance. 

They settled on land which Jacob Leisler, a 
German resident of New York, had obtained 

The Municipal Building at Rye, once Haviland's Tavern, on the Old Post Road. 

The Fay House at Eastchester, formerly a Tavern, where a British Deserter was Hung 

to a Sign-Post. 

The Holly House, Cos Cob. 

Stru^^es of Hiji^uenots 309 

from John Pell, the lord of Pelham Manor. The 
Pell name is to be traced to-day throughout this 
region. As for Jacob Leisler, the fact that he 
was hung for high treason has, if an5rthing, 
added to the high esteem in which he was held, 
and a montiment by the sculptor Solon Borglum 
stands on North Avenue, perpetuating Leisler's 

Pioneering brought hardships. At the end of 
the Seventeenth Century ''ye inhabitants of 
New Rochelle" were ''humbly petitioning" 

"... Wherefore they were invited to come 
and buy lands in the province, to the end that 
they might by their labour help the necessityes 
off their familyes, and did spend therein all their 
smale store, with the help of their friends, whereof 
they did borrow great stmis of money. They are 
poor and needy, reduced to a lamentable condi- 
tion. Wherefore your petitioners humbly pray 
that your Excellency may be pleased to take the 
case in serious consideration and out of charity 
and pity to grant them what help and privileges 
your* Excellency shall think convenient. '" 

They pulled through. They were of the 
stuff that always does pull through. They have 
proved among the finest stock of early Ameri- 
can settlers. Among the names familiar in 
their lists are Jay, de Peyster, Luquer, Boudinot, 
and Marquand. Here and there in the town 

3IO North-ward 

an ancient Huguenot home is to be seen. On 
Main Street, opposite the Presbyterian Church, 
is the old Pintard house, where Walter Marvin 
now lives. On Upper Main Street, out toward 
the Mamaroneck line, stands the old Flandreau 
-home. On North Avenue, near the station of 
the electric railroad, is a little old stone building 
smeared with white; its roof sags, its shingles 
are weather-beaten, there are sections of its walls 
which are on the verge of crumbling to dust. 
Trees and a tangle of grass surround it, and a 
carpenter's sign hangs across its street face. It 
is as unchanged and as typical an early Hugue- 
not farmhouse as you will find. 

On the old Boston Post Road stood the 
Huguenots' first church. Previous to building 
this, they had walked all the way to New York 
and back, twenty-three miles by the road, for 
the sake of partaking of the Lord's supper. A 
little group of the homesick refugees used to 
gather on the shore at sunset every day, face 
their beloved France, and raise their voices in 

But it was not long before they had their own 
house of worship. When John Pell deeded the 
6000 acres to Jacob Leisler for the Huguenot 
use, he threw in an extra hundred acres for good 
measure, that the church of these new Ameri- 
cans might be erected thereon. 

That famous deed is to be seen, along with 

Tom Paine Cottage 311 

Other treasiires, in the Huguenot Museum on 
North Avenue. An old bookcase brought from 
Holland by one of these settlers is in the collec- 
tion; and a group of Indian relics, gathered over 
a period of years on the ground where New 
Rochelle now stands, is the gift of Mr. Henry 
Lester, a representative of one of the early 

But the most interesting thing about the 
museum is the museum itself. It is the old 
home of ''Tom Paine''; a romantic-looking 
cottage covered with shingles, shaded by green 
blinds of the old pattern, having a vine-covered 
porch and a flower-bed where sweet-william and 
English daisies grow. The place leads you 
from the period of pioneering into the years of 
the Revolution, with which Thomas Paine was 
associated in America's history. 

The house stands in a hollow beside the road. 
Above it is the monument to his memory erected 
by public contribution in 1839. It was repaired 
and re-dedicated in 1881, and a bronze bust 
was placed upon it in 1899. Paine's bones no 
longer rest here. He died in 1809, and was 
buried on what was then his New Rochelle farm, 
but in 1 8 19 William Cobbett took his remains to 

Nevertheless this Westchester County town 
preserves every memory of the erratic patriot. 
He was strongly identified with the place, for 

312 NortH-ward 

it was here that the State of New York selected a 
farm of three hundred acres to bestow upon him. 
It was the confiscated estate of Frederic Davoc, 
Loyalist, and it was given to Paine in 1786, 
at the same time that Congress gave him three 
,thousand dollars for his services during the 
Revolutionary War. 

He sailed for Europe soon after, where he was 
royally entertained by many admirers in England 
and France. Later he was indicted for sedition 
in London, and finally outlawed. In France, 
while a prisoner of the Jacobins, he barely 
escaped the guillotine. At this period he wrote 
much of his Age of Reason. In 1802 he returned 
to America and spent his time in New York 
and New Rochelle. 

The Quaker staymaker, which Paine had once 
been in England, was refused burial by the 
Quakers of the United States. IngersoU wrote 
of his funeral cortege: 

'* In a carriage, a woman and her son who had 
lived on the bounty of the dead — on horseback, 
a Quaker, the humanity of whose heart domi- 
nated the creed of his head — ^and following on 
foot, two negroes, filled with gratitude. *' 

The body was laid in its New Rochelle grave, 
and for a time there was no great honor paid 
to the man whose burning pamphlet. Common 
Sense, had touched the fuse, firing a continent 
to declare its independence. 

TKe Disbro-w Chimney 313 

From this town the old Post Road strikes out 
toward the Sound, and is much of the way 
within sight of the water. Mamaroneck is the 
next historical village which it passes — one of 
the oldest in the entire county, laid out in 1660. 
Madame Knight wrote, ''From New Rochelle 
we traveled through Merrinack, a neat tho lit- 
tle place, with a navigable river before it, the 
pleasantest I ever see. " 

It is to-day a neat, though hardly a little place, 
at least not little in her sense of the word. It 
is full of ancient history and modern prosperity; 
gasolene whiffs from suburban motors blow 
across Heathcote Hill, where the Americans of 
1776 surprised the Queen's Rangers. 

The town's most picturesque relic is the 
Disbrow chimney — a mere pile of stones, stand- 
ing in the lawn of what is known as the old 
Stringer residence. This chimney is the oldest 
historiq relic in all of Westchester County. A 
few years ago the great fireplaces and closets on 
each side of the stone work could be distingmshed, 
but so rapidly is the masonry crumbling that now 
it appears almost shapeless, smothered in vines 
and sumac boughs. In one of the large closets 
beside it, tradition has it that Harvey Birch, hero 
of Cooper's novel The Spy^ hid when he was 
being ptirsued. This pile of stones is all that 
remains of the Disbrow house, built in 1677. 
The house was burned. 

314 NortH^ward 

In the early part of the Eighteenth Century- 
Indians came to the Disbrow family and de- 
manded the property; the residents showed title 
deeds on which the aborigines made out their 
own signatures, and they marched off, defeated. 
Thus the place was held by the original family, 
who lived to the extent of eight generations upon 
the property. Almost a century ago a new 
house was erected upon the land, and the entire 
property, old and new house, chimney and all, 
passed into the hands of Mr. Stringer. That 
*'new'' house is now venerable but excellently 

The Disbrows were related to that Major 
General John Disbrow of England who married 
Anna Cromwell, sister of the Protector. 

On the edge of this same land is the rock 
known as ''Washington's Rock" from the like- 
ness which it bears to the austere profile of the 
Father of his Country. 

Just beyond this place is a road house, its 
new porch adorned by the titles of familiar and 
popxilar beverages. This was, once upon a time, 
the De Lancey house of Heathcote Hill. It is 
said that it was auctioned off to the highest 
bidder, who, for some dozen of dollars, became 
possessor, uprooted the old house, and moved 
it down the hill to face the road at a convenient 
nearness. One daughter of old Captain De 
Lancey married Fenimore Cooper. 

THe Jay House 3^5 

It was on October 21, 1776, that Colonel 
Haslet, leading American forces, surprised the 
Queen's Rangers upon the very Heathcote Hill 
which lies before you. Lieutenant-Colonel 
Rogers, who was a renegade American, com- 
manded these, and our forces bore off a number 
of prisoners and goodly spoil as well. 

A little farther along, on the shore, is an inter- 
esting sea-and-land playground for children, 
maintained by the Village Improvement Associ- 
ation. Swings and croquet are close beside 
an enclosed bathing beach where a regularly- 
employed playground worker has an eye out 
for safety. 

Between Mamaroneck and Rye on the Post 
Road stands the Jay house, which was built 
by the father of John Jay, the property hav- 
ing been acquired in 1745. John Jay spent his 
boyhood days here. Jenkins tells us that the 
original house was ''but one room deep and 
eighty feet long, having attained this size by 
repeated additions to meet the wants of a 
numerous family. " 

''From hence we hasted towards Rye . . . 
and there arrived and took up our Lodgings," 
wrote Madame Knight. "Here being very 
hungry I desired a fricasee w°^ the Frenchman 
undertaking managed so contrary to my notions 
of Cookery that I hastned to Bed superless. " 

The Rye of to-day can do better. It can 

3i6 NortH-ward 

refresh the hungry and thirsty traveler. But 
its most interesting building is one of the old 
taverns of the Eighteenth Century, now the 
municipal btiilding, standing where the Post 
Road crosses Purchase Street. It was known 
as ^'Haviland's Inn'' and kept open by Dame 
Tamar Haviland after her husband and the war 
were both buried. You can see now the old fire- 
place where travelers gathered with mug, pipe, 
and story. One room has been preserved as a 
museum. Here both Washington and Lafayette 
have tarried; ''a very neat and decent inn*' 
wrote Washington. 

In this building, May, 1796, the Episcopalian 
parish of Rye was reorganized. The Boston 
stages made a practise of stopping here. John 
Adams stopped here in 1774 when he was going 
to attend the Continental Congress. And so 
on, item by item, one gathers the associations 
which make '^Haviland's'' one of the typical 
inns of the best rank along the old road — a 
public gathering place, used by both travelers 
and townspeople. 

The land jutting into the Sound, now occupied 
by the village of Rye, was called Peningo by the 
Indians, and the island just beyond was Manus- 
sing in their language. The white settlement 
was made on land purchased by New Englanders 
from the aborigines. The Mohicans lived 
between the Hudson and Byram rivers. The 

"EigHt Cotes and Seven Shirts" 317 

first purchase did not include Manussing. But 
it was acquired later, about 1660, in a treaty 
which stipulated that the purchasers were to be 
''without molestation from us or other Indians" 
and that they might feed their cattle upon the 
mainland, and take ''timbers or trees." It is 
of interest to property owners in this smart 
suburban region to-day to note that the con- 
sideration paid for this entire land was "Eight 
Cotes and Seven Shirts and fifteen fathom of 
wompome. " 

Log cabins soon sprang up, the homes of the 
settlers from Greenwich who arrived by boat 
— wives, babies, family cats, and all — rowing 
down the Sound. They built up a village which 
came to be noted for its thrift and virtue. So 
righteous were its ways that the magistrate 
was given full power to apprehend "such as 
were overtaken with drinke, swearing, Sabboath 
breaking." Before the Revolution, however, 
Rye came to be known as a pleasure seekers' 
resort, and Rye Flats was famous for its horse 

Port Chester to-day, the Saw Pit yesterday, is 
the village next beyond Rye; the Byram River 
is crossed; and now the old Boston Post Road 
finds itself within the State of Connecticut. 
Greenwich and Cos Cob, closely associated with 
the name of General Israel Putnam, are just 

3i8 NortKijvard 

The borderline between New York and Con- 
necticut always saw more or less stirring times, 
beginning with a bottle of fire water in the 
sixteen-htmdreds. The bottle passed from the 
hands of a Dutch trader of New York into 
. the welcoming hands of a Fairfield County chief, 
and the peace to which he had bound him- 
self while sober suddenly became exceedingly 
uninteresting. The Dutch trader found a tribe 
of customers ready for his goods, and raids soon 
stirred the territory of the staid Greenwich set- 
tlers. From Indian raids the borderline passed 
into the agitation of the Revolutionary period. 

The Holly house, as the old residence is known 
in Cos Cob, contains the first chapter of the 
most picturesque historic tale of this vicinity. 
This ample frame house was built by Captain 
Bush, a New York merchant, in days before the 
Revolution. Bush was a friend of General 
Putnam, and his house was frequently used by 
the General as headquarters during the throb- 
bing days when Fairfield County was his field of 
action. Tradition credits Miss Bush, a daughter 
of the Captain, with at least part of the Gen- 
eral's interest in the spot. At any rate, the 
tradition is a pleasing one, whether true or not, 
for no stage setting could present a prettier 
background for romance than the rambling 
old building swathed in vines and half -hidden 
by lilacs. 

Putnam's Hill 319 

Here, says the story, Putnam was merry- 
making on the night before his famous ride. 
He was the distinguished guest at the party. 
A few hours later he was riding for his life, 
the dancers scattered and forgotten, the British 

Putnam's Hill Park, in Greenwich itself, is 
near the scene of the ride. A tablet marks 
the spot where on February 26, 1779, General 
Israel Putnam, ''cut off from his soldiers, 
pursued by British cavalry, galloped down this 
rocky steep and escaped, daring to lead where 
not one of many hundred foes dared to follow. '* 

The story has many variations in the annals, 
but it is a popular belief that Putnam, mounted, 
rode directly down the seventy-four stone 
steps which were then standing, despite the 
fact that his horse was undertaking the feat 
under a weight of 240 pounds. Putnam was visit- 
ing his outposts at West Greenwich when 
Governor Tryon with a corps of fifteen hundred 
men was on his march against it. Putnam had 1 50 
men with him, and two pieces of artillery; with 
only this support he took his station on the 
brow of the hill, near where the old meeting 
house stood. From this point he greeted the 
advancing British with a prompt, sharp fire from 
his artillery. 

But upon seeing that the dragoons were about 
to charge, Putnam ordered his men to retire 

320 NortK-ward 

to the swamp below where the cavalry of the 
British coiild not reach them. The enemy was 
now upon him; he had one chance, and that was 
to force his horse directly down the precipice. 
His pursuers suddenly brought up in astonish- 
„ment as they saw the steep down which he 
had fled. Heavy, they could not follow. They 
took the curve which led gradually to the road 
below, but long before they could reach it 
Putnam was far on the road toward Stamford. 
Here he found militia ready, and, adding these 
to his former band, he pursued Tryon and re- 
ported the taking of fifty prisoners in spite of 
his small numbers. The British had managed to 
destroy the salt works at Greenwich, but they 
had failed to overcome the resourceful American 
general. Authorities state that the actual steps 
down which Putnam rode were at some dis- 
tance south of the roadway. The steps now 
leading down from the park to the street are 
sometimes mistakenly called ''Putnam's Steps.'' 

A museum of colonial and Revolutionary relics 
is to be seen opposite the Episcopal church in 
Greenwich. The building was once the tavern 
of Captain Israel Knapp, and it is now known 
as the Putnam Cottage. 

Beyond, at Cos Cob, an old settlers' burying 
ground lies beside the curved road that leads off 
from the main road, toward the Holly house. 
The sunken headstones are smothered in grass, 

The Tom Paine Monument at New Rochelle. 

^'^ ;i:-^^^ta^^^^ 

... 4«.«^^«*«5f^** 


The Old Huguenot House at New Rochelle. 

The Lighthouse at Fort Schuyler. 

The Holly House 321 

their names and dates almost obliterated. Here, 
says tradition, the ancient chieftains Cos Cob 
and Mianus lie buried. The spot is uncared for, 
and furnishes to the village merely a field for a 

The Holly house is a finely preserved example 
of pre-Revolutionary building. The colonial 
entrance, narrow white staircase, and huge 
fireplaces are intact. The furniture did not 
belong to Captain Bush, having come later 
with the Holly family, but it is of the period of 
the house itself. An old and valuable print of 
Putnam's ride hangs in the hall. 

North and northwest of Cos Cob the land was 
called *' Strickland's Plain, '' and it was here that 
Captain Underbill, sent by the Dutch Governor 
of New York, made his terrific attack upon the 
troublesome Indians long before the Revolution* 
The settlers of Greenwich had appealed to the 
Governor for aid, since Greenwich was then tmder 
the jurisdiction of New York. He finally sent 
Underbill with 130 men, and the captain reached 
the Mianus River and rested there in the even- 
ing until moonrise. As the light $lowly ciame, 
showing him the way, he led his men across 
the river at the town of Mianus. He climbed 
the high bank on the west side, looked over 
Strickland's Plain, and thereupon made his 
onslaught. Wigwams perished in the fires he 
lighted, Indian lives were sacrificed right and 


322 NortH-ward 

left, a wholesale destruction of the enemy was 
made, and peace achieved for the settlers. 

The road between New York and Boston was 
not the only means of communication for these 
early villages along the Sound. Hurd tells us 
that in 1767 Nathaniel Close petitioned to 
"the benevolent inhabitants of the town of 
Greenwich, " for permission to build a storehouse 
at the dock at Cos Cob, as ''his performing a 
weekly Pauquet or stage boat to New York*' 

Moreover, there were crossings to the Long 
Island shore. At Port Chester (or possibly 
Rye) there was a ferry established as early as 
I739> to the island of Nassau at Oyster Bay. 
This was by royal letters patent of King George. 
"Which ferry our loving subjects John Budd, 
Hachaliah Brown and Jonathan Brown, Esqs., 
propose to undertake . . . and to have free liberty 
to ask the several fees hereinafter mentioned, 
viz., for every person i shilling and sixpence, for 
every man and horse 3 shillings, for all horned 
cattle from 2 years old and upwards each 2 
shillings ... for every full barrel i shilling, for 
every empty barrel 4 pence ... for every gam- 
mon, flitch of bacon or piece of smoked beef i 
penny . . . for every chair 2 pence, for every case 
with bottles 9 pence, for every frying pan or 
warming pan 2 pence." 

TO throg's neck and city island 

STRETCHING out into the East River, like 
stiflf-jointed fingers on an ungainly hand, 
are several peninsulas, to the several tips of 
which old roads led yesterday along practically 
the same line of the better roads of to-day. 
Passing northeast beyond Hell Gate, beyond 
Ward's and Randall's and North and South 
Brother Island, we come to Barretto Point and 
Hunt's Point; Clason Point lies just beyond 
them, across the mouth of the Bronx River at 
the end of Cornell's Neck; this in turn is sepa- 
rated from the next by Westchester Creek, and 
across that stream lie Old Ferry Point and 
Throg's Neck; still farther along, to the east 
of Eastchester Bay, we reach Rodman's Neck 
with its postscript of City Island, almost a part 
of one peninsula. All of these are within the 
boundaries of greater New York, being included 
in the Bronx. 

Hunt's Point is generally understood as in- 
cluding Barretto Point, the latter having been 


324 NortKijvarcl 

named for a New York merchant, Francis 
Barretto, who did not settle upon it until the 
middle of the last century. The former name, 
which included the whole double peninsula, 
was given in honor of the proprietor of 1688. 
Previous to this, the Indian name, ' ' Quinnahung, ' ' 
had identified this "long, high place." 

The chief object of interest on Hunt's Point is 
the Joseph Rodman Drake Park, opened in 19 10. 
Two and a half acres are laid out for this, and 
within its boundaries are included the old burial 
ground of the Hunt family, and the grave of 
Drake, whose poem, To the Bronx, has im- 
mortalized this part of our great city. Drake 
found poetry in that which was near and familiar, 
foimd romance where we are too much inclined 
to see only commercialism and modern hurry 
and bustle. 

Yet I will look upon thy face again, 
My own romantic Bronx, and it will be 

A face more pleasant than the face of men. 
Thy waves are old companions; I shall see 

A well-remembered form in each old tree, 

And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy. 

Nevertheless, in apology for ourselves of this 
generation, it is only fair to remember that the 
Bronx River of a century ago was far more 
romantic than it is to-day, with the pressure of 
building and business encroaching upon its banks. 

"The Pilot House" 325 

The road leads straight down to the end of 
the point. The land was once known as the 
''great planting field," and for many years it 
was rich in meadows and farms. Drake's home 
was at Hunt's Point, in the original Hunt 
house known as the Grange. This building, or 
a portion of it, was erected possibly as early 
as 1669, by Thomas Hunt. The building has 
more recently been known as ''the Pilot House" 
because of the curious octagonal tower rising 
from one end of it and serving as a beacon to 
pilots on the East River beyond. The dilapi- 
dated house was once an ample and fine farm- 
house, built of stone, and following the lines of 
the ancient Dutch homesteads. 

Other familiar names associated with Himt's 
Point are Willett, Leggett, and Tippett. Mem- 
bers of these families are buried in the old 
cemetery. Out on Barretto Point is the 
cemetery where the Hunt and Leggett families 
buried their slaves. 

Corneirs Neck received its name for Thomas 
Cornell who was one of Throckmorton's colonists. 
He occupied the land in the year 1643, having 
bought it from the Indians, according to his 
statement. The Dutch authorities were satis- 
fied with his proof of the fact, but the Indians 
drove him out and btimed his house, claim- 
ing that he had never paid them. However, 
Governor Kieft issued to him a grond brief in 

326 NortHiwarcl 

1646, and in 1667 Colonel NicoUs confirmed by 
patent this land to Cornell's grandson, William 
Willett — "a certaine Parcell of Land, contained 
within a neck, commonly called and knowne 
by ye name of Cornell's Neck. " 

The road runs down the middle of the Neck 
and winds up at Clason's Point, named for an 
owner later than Cornell. The old road used to 
lead, as does the new one, to the Cornell house. 
To-day only the kitchen of this edifice remains, 
this being included in what is now the Clason's 
Point Inn. Another portion of the inn is what 
remains of the Willett and Clason mansion. 
The smokehouse of the original bmlding is 
still standing, being a small structure of stone 
not far from the inn. 

Castle Hill Neck is a minor point jutting 
into East River just beyond Clason's, at the 
mouth of Pugsley's Creek. The Weckquaesgeek 
Indians formerly built a large castle, which 
amounted to a stockade, on high land at this 
place, hence the name which has never changed. 
From Castle Hill, the spot on which the pali- 
saded stockade stood, the Indians (who belonged 
to the Mohican tribe) made a trail reaching to 
Paparinemo, and this was called ''the West- 
chester Path" in Doughty 's patent to Archer. 
Thus an Indian trail came to be a broader path, 
followed by white settlers, and this eventually 
became a real road, wide enough for wagons, 

Ferris Grange 327 

which is the history of so many of our present 

The Ferris family early settled on that neck of 
land which lies to the east of Westchester Creek, 
and which finds its conclusion in Old Ferry 
Point. John Ferris was one of the original 
patentees of Westchester. One of the earliest 
ferries in the neighborhood of New York ran 
from the point of this neck across to White- 
stone, Long Island. This point is coupled 
with Throg's Neck, both having roads which 
run back inland to the same starting point. 

Ferris Avenue, sometimes called Ferry Lane, 
is the street which leads from Eastern Boulevard 
down toward both of these necks. To the 
right of it, a large house stands, once the home 
of the old owner of this land and known as 
Ferris Grange. It was built in 1687, has been 
rebuilt since that period, and was once rtm down, 
gone to seed and weed, but is still recognizable 
as a "handsome residence'* of an early period. 
At the Country Club is another Ferris house; 
James, who occupied this home in 1776, was 
at breakfast with his family on the twelfth of 
October of that year, when a gtm from the direc- 
tion of the water apprised him of the landing 
of Sir William Howe and his army. Ferris was 
taken later on by the Queen's Rangers and 
suffered imprisonment in the "Provost" prison 
of New York City. 

328 NortK-ward 

And next, still moving toward the east, we 
come to the extremely interesting Throg's Neck. 
To begin with, its very name is interesting. 
It is a remarkable example of how few genera- 
ations it takes to corrupt a good old name. Some 
-Spell it with a double ''g, " the average native 
calls it '* Frog's Neck," and a very large per- 
centage of New Yorkers have not the faintest 
idea of its origin. 

That origin is the excellent old surname of 
John Throgmorton, or Throckmorton, who came 
here as long ago as 1643. Roger Williams was 
leading a group of Baptists to the place, they 
having emigrated from Rhode Island and the 
Providence Plantations. The land was under 
the control of the Dutch, and from them Throck- 
morton took a grant. The land had been 
called Quinshtmg in the Indian language, but 
was destined from that time on to bear his name, 
or a form of it. 

The trolley nmning down the Neck goes 
no farther than Eastern Boulevard, leaving the 
last three miles in tmdisturbed peace. For a 
quiet walk, there is no more beautiful road 
within the limits of greater New York. It is 
comparatively tmfrequented, so that the pedes- 
trian has full opporttmity to enjoy it. Beyond 
the road, on either side, country estates stretch 
away, and beyond these lies the blue river 
which, at this point, is widening into the Sound. 

r/^^ Tow Paine House, New Rochelle. 

The Arch Leading through the old Fortifications at Fort Schuyler, 

The Iliilk of the " Macedonia. 

The Old Marshall Residence. 

TKe Stepping Stones 329 

On the day I walked those still, restful miles 
there was haymaking going on within the 
estates, and the smell of hot, fresh-cut grass 
was abroad. 

At the first marked turn of the road one 
confronts a gate leading into the grotmds of 
Mrs. Collis P. Huntington. The turn to the 
left leads down to the point. Beyond this, 
the general trend is toward the left. 

The Havemeyer estate is just beyond. All 
of this vicinity is closely associated with Cooper's 
novel, Satanstoe, In the story, the Littlepage 
family were made owners of much property 
hereabouts. Corney Littlepage and his friend 
Dirck Pollock stopped at a tavern at Kings- 
bridge when passing between Westchester and 
New York City. The author made use of the 
Indian legend which gave rise to the name of 
" The Stepping Stones, '' this being applied to the 
group of small islands lying to the northeast of 
Throg's Neck. The tops of these are bare and 
visible at low tide. 

It seems, according to the legend, that the 
archfiend whom the Indians most feared was at 
one time baffled by their attacks and retreated to 
the narrow part of Throg'sNeck and looked about 
to see what his best method of escape would be. 
His eye lighted upon the little islands, the tide 
being low. They were bare; so he stepped upon 
their tops and crossed in safety over to Long 

330 NortH-ward 

Island. But he left a souvenir of his visit in the 
print of his big toe as he stepped off the point; 
hence, "Satanstoe.'' 

By making a short detour along a branch 
road to the right, you will come to the famous 
Cedar of Lebanon on the Huntington estate. It 
is visible at some distance from the road ; unfor- 
tunately, no nearer to the general public in these 
days, unless a permit has been obtained from 
the superintendent. This is the direct and dire 
result of the work of souvenir maniacs who 
chipped away bits of the precious wood until it 
became necessary, for the life of the tree, to 
refuse all visitors permission to inspect it at close 
range. It is one of the unforttmate cases where 
the innocent must suffer for the guilty. 

This tree is the finest cedar of Lebanon in the 
United States, being thirteen feet in girth, forty 
feet in height, and having a spread of branches 
reaching beyond fifty feet. It is also very 
beautiful in outline. It was planted about a 
century and a quarter ago by Philip Livingston, 
and has seen a good deal of American history ebb 
and flow not far from its branches. 

Turning back to the main neck road you will 
come to a big, whole-souled house on the Have- 
meyer estate where little folks are given a 
summer outing close to a private bathing beach, 
with swings and a benign cow to add to their 
pleasures. Just where the swings hang at the 

Fort ScHixyler 33 1 

top of the high bank above the bathing beach, a 
tiny, shaded path runs toward the point. If you 
will follow this instead of the main road, you will 
be following in the footsteps of aborigines who 
used to delight in this green neck of land — ^no 
doubt the same aborigines who routed the arch- 
fiend. This little path, sneaking through a line 
of trees, is known as an old Indian trail, and it 
leads to a sloping meadow through which one can 
cross to the main road and to Fort Schuyler. 

To-day this United States post stands as a 
mere relic of the past. Changing conditions and 
our national peacefulness have brought it to 
the point where it hardly seems to find reason 
for being — unless its immortality be considered 
to lie in its usefulness to the ''movies. " Many a 
motion-picttire film is made on these picturesque 
grounds, many a thrilling scene enacted for the 
camera, where once a goodly garrison of our 
bravest troops paraded. 

The building of this fort was begun in 1833. 
Its object was to accommodate 1250 men and to 
mount 318 cannon. The granite of which the 
old fortifications were built was brought from 
Greenwich; an austere gray stone, making a 
formidable front to any enemy who might dare 
approach from the water, as you can see for 
yourself to-day. 

By the year 1851, when the cost was looked 
over, it was fotmd that the construction and 

332 NortH-ward 

repairs of this now almost useless fort had 
reached $873,013. 

Walking out to the giant gray walls which 
face upon the water, you pass through the old 
barracks, prison-like in appearance. Here is 
a green stretch shaded by old trees, once the 
parade ground; beyond, concave in line upon the 
parade ground, are the original fortifications. 
Their sternness, their somberness, their loneli- 
ness, have to be seen to be appreciated. They 
are immensely impressive, intensely melancholy. 

On the high point above stands the well- 
known lighthouse which has guided many a boat 
at this gate of the Sound. At some distance 
back from the point are the old guns, now only a 
landmark. There are modem ones besides, 
built-up guns, with modem electric harnessing 
in control of them. But the entire fort is in 
charge of only a handful of men. A non- 
commissioned officer and his eight or ten 
privates take the place of that early 1250. 

This point has been the scene of important 
military operations and was, for a very short 
time, in possession of the British during the 
Revolution. For five consecutive days Sir 
William Howe held Throg's Neck before 
advancing in the direction of New Rochelle. 

Opposite, on Long Island, stands Fort Totten, 
and it is there that the active military life for both 
goes on. It is on Willett's Point, a short dis- 

** Village Dreamed of Greatness ** 333 

tance from Whitestone, and there is a boat con- 
necting the three points and available for visitors. 

These sister forts across the water from one 
another together command the eastern entrance 
to the East River, which is narrow just here. 
Their nearness and the height of the Throg's 
Neck cliffs give them a most advantageous 

General Philip S. Schuyler was the officer 
who bequeathed his name to the fort. He it 
was who commanded the Northern army in 1777. 
He managed his campaign in such wise that 
Burgoyne's defeat and capture were made possi- 
ble to the American commander who succeeded, 
namely Horatio Gates. 

It was in 191 1 that the garrison was finally 
withdrawn, although the fort had been gradu- 
ally slipping into sltimber. It was realized that 
the defenses at Fisher's Island had rendered the 
Schuyler defenses of no use. So the acres of the 
Government reservation which were purchased 
in 1826, several years before the building of 
the granite fort began, are to-day mainly of 
use to the motion-picture companies. 

On beyond Throg's Neck we come to Rodman's 
Neck and that long island attached thereto by a 
bridge and almost one with it. This is City 
Island, "the village that dreamed of greatness.'* 
Within the actual limits of New York City 
you wake to a sense of being on the coast of 

334 NortH^ward 

Maine. The smell of the sea is in the air, 
doddering old fishermen with a truly down-East 
look are aroimd you, half-wrecked boats lie 
beached on a still shore, and the snores of a 
slumbering village are in your ears. 

City Island is a curious relic of a proud 
ambition which swelled some century and a half 
ago to a point where it dreamed the fair dream 
of becoming the American metropolis and 
leaving New York to jog mournfully in its 
meteoric wake. But the dream spent itself. 
The quaint, ambitious little town slipped back 
into quiet after the revolution which had stirred 
it. That was before the end of the Eighteenth 
Century, and since then no stone has been thrown 
heavy enough to cause a splash. The inhabi- 
tants took up their semi-nautical life, settled 
down to fishing and sailing and boat-mending, 
and have remained thus ever since. 

The only monorail of the United States used 
to be operated on the Pelham Park Railroad 
rtmning from Bartow out to the bridge. It was 
installed in 1910 and ever contended with an 
unlucky star. On its first day a bad accident 
occurred, a ntmiber of persons were killed, and 
the tmpopularity of the road afterwards war- 
ranted the use of only one car. When a strong 
wind was blowing even this one might fail the 
traveler, so there was many an enforced walk 
out to the end of Rodman's Neck. The weather- 

City Island Bridge 335 

beaten car, however, with its loyal charioteer 
who sang its praises, was one of the picturesque 
features of this vicinity. 

From the end of the monorail line, two horse- 
cars operated across the bridge and out to the 
end of the island. They were as weather-beaten 
as the monorail car, and one of the drivers would 
have been an excellent painter's model for an 
ideal pirate, adding another nautical touch to 
this curious land. 

A trolley has now replaced these old means of 

The bridge is a well-built, modem structure, 
replacing a dismal and narrow one which used 
to stand. Before 1868 only a ferry spanned this 

Beyond it, a strip of land covering 230 acres 
and shaped like a string bean, extends into the 
water. All the way along you feel sea life in the 
air; laimches are to hire, fishermen stroll, there 
rises a large sail factory, and, most important of 
all, you will find a great group of yachts laid up 
for repair — ^yachts of the wealthy, famous for 
their pleasure trips, yachts for racing, often a 
cup defender. For years this beach has been 
the repairing headquarters of such boats. The 
ship-building industry in this region began in 
1676 or perhaps earlier, and ever since that time 
the shores of and near City Island have sheltered 
a long line of famous boats. 

33^ NortK-ward 

The most unique historical building on the 
island is the Macedonian Hotel — Smith's Hotel, 
to the native thereabouts. A portion of the 
building is the ''remains of the English frigate 
Macedonia, captured Friday, October 25, 1812, 
by the United States frigate United States^ 
commanded by Captain Stephen Decatur, U. S. 
N. The action was fought in Latitude 24^ N., 
Longitude 29° 30' W., that is 600 miles N.W. 
of the Cape De Verde Islands off the west coast 
of Africa. Towed to Cowbay in 1874. " 

This curious building is to be found by turning 
east at Ditmars Street. The old hotel is at 
the water's edge. Inside the hulk of the ship 
are the great hooks where the sailors of old used 
to hang their hammocks, and the iron rings for 
the cannon. Jenkins tells us that the hulk 
here displayed is not that of the original vessel 
which Decatur took, but its successor, a second 
ship of the same name, built immediately after 
the first Macedonia had been taken, launched 
in 1836, and broken up in Cow Bay, Long Island, 
which was a graveyard of condemned vessels. 

City Island was once known as Minnewits 
Island, with several explanations given by as 
many different historians. Probably the theory 
that the name came from Peter Minuits, the 
Dutch governor and purchaser of Manhattan 
Island, is acceptable. It was not imtil the boom 
of the seventeen-sixties that the name City 

An Algonquin Village 337 

Island was bestowed, with the idea that it could 
be better promoted thus. That boom was 
much like those which animate mushroom towns 
of the West to-day. The place was advertised, 
pushed, promoted, and the information given 
out broadcast that this was soon to be the great 
city of the Atlantic coast. A regular ferry must 
be established, to connect it with the mainland; 
bids were made for the lease of this ferry, and 
the winner was one Mrs. Deborah Hicks, ''the 
best and fairest bidder." 

The boom was short-lived and the settlers 
went back to their oyster culture, fishing, and 
piloting. It is claimed that oyster culture 
in America began at this place, and it is known 
that an Algonqtiin village, subsisting on the 
bivalve, used to occupy this strip of land. 
Pishing now goes on at Belden Point, since the 
new bridge has spoiled it at the north end. 

There is a bit of tradition recorded to the 
effect that the first case of witchcraft tried in 
New York was connected with City Island. 
Ralph Hall and Mary, his wife, were tried for 
this crime and they escaped, fleeing to the 
island and taking refuge there in a hut where 
they lived for three years. They were finally 
acquitted. Unfortunately the hut has van- 
ished, leaving us no tangible memorial. 

Strolling back from the point of the island 
and crossing the bridge, you will find yourself 

33^ NortK-ward 

at Marshairs Comers, at the end of Rodman's 
Neck. This point is marked by a fine old 
colonial house of Southern type, bmlt by the 
Marshall family about the Revolutionary period. 
The house is now used as an inn. 

To the east of this, along the shore, is Orchard 
Bay colony — a great city of three hundred tents 
under the regime of the Park Commission of the 
City of New York, a vast playgrotmd and 
summer resort for the people. Streets are lined 
with the little canvas homes, grass is kept cut, 
order prevails. For ten dollars any family can 
obtain the water privileges for a season, no 
charge being put upon the land; this means that 
for only ten dollars any New Yorker can pick 
up his tent, family, bathing suit, turkish towels, 
and rocking chair, and betake himself to an 
excellent bathing beach, having all the comforts 
of home within city limits. The lone bachelor is 

The three hundred camps represent a thousand 
persons, and it is estimated that seventy or 
eighty thousand bathers disport themselves here 
in a season. A volimteer life-saving corps is 
stationed on the beach, and constant watch 
is kept of bathers. 

Returning to the main portion of Rodman's 
Neck, you can trace history by walking up to the 
Split Rock Road. You will find Glover's Rock, 
memorial of American courage in the Revolution. 

One of the Old Guns at Fort Schuyler. 

The Old Fortifications, Fort Schuyler. 

The Old Shot Tower, Built in 1821 to Replace One of 
Revolutionary Days. 

An Old Block House, a Relic of the War oj 18 12, in Morningside Park. 

Glover's RocK 339 

Its tablet reads, "In memory of five himdred 
and fifty patriots who, led by Col. John Glover, 
held General Howe's army in check at the 
Battle of Pell's Point, October 18, 1776, thus 
aiding Washington in his retreat to White 
Plains/' Glover's Rock, as it was afterwards 
called, was the point at which the battle began. 
Howe had been crossing from Throg's Neck, his 
men disposed in several boats, and he landed 
at what was known as the Bowne house and 
proceeded to march toward Bartow. Here, at 
the rock, he met Glover. The outcome was 
victorious for the British commander, but he 
met with such losses that he was crippled as to 
numbers, and time was gained for Washington 
in his retreat. Glover, overcome, retreated 
by way of Split Rock Road. He had had 
an advance guard of only forty to hold the 
British in check until his men could be disposed 
to advantage behind the trees and walls round 
about, and, with so great disadvantages, he 
had met defeat almost as if it were conquest. 

Split Rock Road won its name from the 
peculiar formation of a rock standing on either 
side of a tree as if the tree had forced its way 
up, dividing the stone. 

Not only was the mainland at this point 
stirred by the Revolution, but City Island 
awoke. On the day of the Battle of Long 
Island, August 27, 1776, two ships and a brig 

340 NortKiward 

came to anchor a little above Throg's Neck, 
and Colonel Graham's regiment was ordered 
immediately to the spot by General Heath to 
prevent the British landing to plunder and bum. 
Before the regulars arrived several barges from 
the ships, ftill of armed men, landed on City 
Island and a great killing of cattle was the 
restilt. Two companies of Americans were car- 
ried by ferry — ^the only means of reaching the 
island then — ^and they promptly compelled the 
British to withdraw. 

This region was a great headquarters for 
Tories, whom Colonel De Lancey led tmder the 
name of the *' Tory Westchester Light Horse.'* 
They fought along the banks of Westchester 





BACK within the heart of New York, on 
old Manhattan Island itself, the traveler 
finds a network of historic streets, some exactly 
in the line of early paths, others more or less 
altered to smt the convenience of a vast and 
growing city. Here, when summer is drawing 
to a close and green stretches no longer tempt, 
the history-devotee can enjoy many a brisk 
walk tracing the varied lore of old localities. 

In his Historical Guide to the City of New York^ 
Frank Bergen Kelley traces twenty-eight such 
little journeys all within the borough of Man- 
hattan. Some of these are imfamiliar to even 
the native New Yorker. If a record were taken, 
showing how many residents of this island know 
old Horn's Hook, for instance, or ever heard of 
the Smuggler's Cave, or could tell the story of 
the Shot Tower, it is a safe guess that the hands- 
up would be oases in a desert of ignorance. 

A little tour on the upper East Side begins at 
53rd' Street. Turning east on this street, you 


344 THe Heart of Ne^w YorK 

find yourself approaching a ferry slip, the route 
to Blackwell's Island. The Indians called it 
Minnahanonck which meant ''Long Island." 
In the year 1664 it was granted to the Sheriff of 
New York County, Captain John Manning. 
Nine years later he disgraced himself in public 
opinion by surrendering the city to the Dutch, 
and he was obliged to retire to his residence, or 
*' castle,'' on the island, his sword having been 
broken. His step-daughter inherited the island, 
and her marriage to Robert Blackwell gave it 
its permanent name. It was not tmtil 1828 that 
the city of New York bought the strip of land, 
paying fifty thousand dollars for it. 

You may make the trip to the island, where the 
penitentiary, charity hospital, and other city 
institutions now stand, by obtaining a pass; 
but whether you cross in this ferry or not, do not 
fail to notice the curious old brick tower which 
rises at your left near the ferry slip. It is sur- 
rotmded by squatty btiildings, lumber-yard 
piles, disorder, and rubbish. 

The tower was erected in 1821, almost a 
century ago, by Youle. It was built to replace 
one still older, the original having been used as 
far back as Revolutionary days. In its day, the 
tower looked down upon the cultivated ground 
which surrounded the ''Spring Valley Farm- 
house." Sleek patches of vegetables, cow- 
Cropped grass, flanked the substantial old Dutch 

Smith's Folly 345 

house which was called the oldest btdlding on 
Manhattan Island. Its land ran down to the 
river's edge. David Duffore was probably the 
builder. It was one and a half stories high, low 
and stalwart, its cross-beams hewn from the 
heaviest oak. 

Turning back to Avenue A and going north, 
under Queensboro Bridge, you turn east again 
into 61 st Street. A huge gas tank looms; close 
beside it, on an elevation of groimd, you will see 
a quaint house with two wings, and a receding 
entrance between them. Rough, stoutly laid 
stones indicate ancient masonry. This place 
has been known since New York was young as 
Smith's Folly, and thereby hangs a tale. 

Colonel William S. Smith was fortunate 
enough to lead to the altar no less distingtiished 
a bride than Miss Adams, the daughter of the 
President of the United States. This event, of so 
great social importance, took place not a great 
while after the Revolution, wherefore the bridal 
roses are faded, the echoes of the bridal music 
vanished, this many a day. Nevertheless this 
memorial to Colonel Smith's joy stands; he set 
out to build for his bride the finest house possible, 
he spared his purse not at all (having been most 
successful in trade, he could afford to indulge 
the fair lady's tastes), and a proud residence was 
erected, its date, 1799, being wrought in the 
rear wall of the bam. 

34^ THe Heart of Neijv YorK 

But the roof was no more than on the btdlding, 
when Colonel Smith's bubble burst, he failed 
completely in business, and the name of *' Smith's 
Folly" was fixed upon the house and bam for all 

The mansion was burned, and the fine stable 
became a dwelling-place. Later, Monmouth C. 
Hart acquired it, and turned it into a tavern. 
It was used in this way until 1830, when it was 
bought by Jeremiah Towle, who had visited it 
in its road-house days, was interested in its 
quaint charm, and at last turned it into a resi- 
dence, carefully preserving all its old-fashioned 
features — ^the tiny panes in the hall windows, 
the ancient staircase, the slim old balusters. It 
is one of the very few Manhattan residences now 
standing which date back of 1800; those left are 
fast slipping away. 

Only in 19 14, one landmark of this vicinity 
succumbed to progress — ^progress, heralded by 
pick and shovel and crane. The old Schermer- 
horn farmhouse stood until the summer of that 
year at the foot of East 64th Street, on the 
grounds of the Rockefeller Institute. It was 
famed as having been the summer home of 
Governor George Clinton. It was razed in a 
week, and excavations were begun for a new 

Following First Avenue north to 68th Street 
and ttiming west a few doors, you come upon 

Baron Steuben 347 

the German Reformed Chtirch, 156 years old, 
where John Jacob Astor served as elder more 
than a centtiry ago. The original chtirch was 
far down-town, but when it was moved north its 
famous montiment was carried along, and you 
will find it to-day, yellowed with years, set 
in the wall above the staircase. Its inscrip- 
tion runs: 

"Sacred to the memory of Fred^ Will^ Aug* 
Baron Steuben, a German, Knight of the Order 
of Fidelity; aid-de-camp to Frederick the Great 
King of Prussia; Major General and Inspector 
General in the Revolutionary War. Esteemed, 
respected and supported by Washington, he gave 
military skill and discipline to the citizen- 
soldiers; who (fulfilling the Decrees of Heaven) 
achieved the independence of the United States. 
The highly polished manners of the Baron were 
graced by the most noble feelings of the heart. 
His hand, 'open as day for melting charity,' 
closed only in the strong grasp of Death. This 
memorial is inscribed by an American who had 
the honor to be his aid-de-camp, the happiness 
to be his friend. Ob. 1795. " 

As you continue north in your walk, you are 
passing through Jones' Wood of early days. It 
is a forest of buildings now, but once upon a 
time the farm of the Provoost family occupied 
this vicinity, and the well-known wood was a 
part of the farm. It covered the East River 

348 The Heart of New YorK 

shore, from what is now 70th Street, for some 
distance north. ''Dead Man's Rock*' was the 
high point at which the wood began. The name 
''Jones" was attached to it after the Pro- 
voosts' time; but the most picturesque part 
of its history was connected with those earlier 

Two remarkable cousins, Samuel and David 
Provoost, have passed into history. The former 
was the first bishop of New York, and the 
president of Columbia College. But David was 
famed in a widely different way. He was one 
of the most dare-devil smugglers known, and a 
rocky hole once existing on the shore of this 
wood was known as "The Smuggler's Cave.'' 
Here, and in another cave across the river at 
Hallett's Point, he hid his treasure, and the 
boys of the early eighteen-htmdreds used to 
shiver and tell delicious, creepy stories of the 
old rascal whose ghost hatmted these two black 
caverns. Not imtil he was ninety years old 
did David yield up his law-defying^ rollicking, 
money-scattering career. 

Walking north to 88th Street, you reach 
Horn's Hook. It is a hook of land jutting out 
from East River Park, marked on present-day 
maps as Harris Hook. Surmounting it stands 
the once magnificent residence of Archibald 
Grade, built about 18 13, now sadly out of repair. 

Siebert Classen came from Holland in days 



The Grade Mansion, at old Horn's Hook. 

Looking down the ''Hollow Way'' of the Revolution, " Widow Davids' s Meadoiv 
of Dutch Days, now Manhattan St. 

Home of ArcKibald Graoie 349 

before the Revolution, made this crook of land 
his own, and named it for Hoom, in Holland, 
which had been his home. During both wars 
with England it served as a fine station for 
batteries, commanding the entrance below HeU 

And the house which later rose upon this spot! 
Tread its broad halls to-day and conjure up the 
visitors it has entertained! Washington Irving, 
who wrote Astoria while visiting his friend Astor 
next door, used often to come here. Tom Moore, 
John Quincy Adams, Louis Philippe, and Josiah 
Quincy were other guests. To-day the building 
is decaying and will soon be beyond repair. A 
sewing class for girls and a carpenter shop for 
boys occupy a small portion of its spaciousness. 

If you will cross to St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum 
on 89th Street, the sisters will lead you into the 
inner court where you can see the old home of 
Nathaniel Prime, who, like Grade, was a 
merchant prince of old New York. It was built 
in 1800 and is included within the present 
asylum groimds. Prime was first a coachman, 
later the wealthy head of a banking-house, and 
later still the tragic victim of a poverty-mania, 
in which he ended his own life. 

Grade, on the other hand, led an even life of 
steady success, and his fleet of clippers, with 
their red and white signals, were a well-known 
sight on every sea. 

....... . ..>..^.a..^.:^^^,.pp..,.^|.ijjgj)fgg^ 

350 TKe Heart of Ne^w YorK 

Another little history-tour on Manhattan 
traces the Battle of Harlem Heights. Summon 
your memories. . . . 

The fox chase bugle notes of the British 
sounded across the Hollow Way. At once the 
gallant Americans took up the challenge; sharp 
orders pelted, muskets clattered, the flutter of a 
flag retorted. . . . 

But that was almost a century and a half 
ago. To-day, the honking of many motors 
sounds instead of the bugle, and the Hollow 
Way of Revolutionary days is Manhattan 
Street of 191 5, and there are trolley cars and 
coal and milk wagons that clatter. 

That is to say, unless you can blot out sights 
and sounds of the Twentieth Century and step 
back to 1776. It was just after the Battle of 
Long Island, you will recall, that the conflict 
on Harlem Heights took place. Mrs. Lindley 
Murray of Murray Hill, smiling and gracious, had 
received Howe and his officers in her home, 
had lavishly regaled them with cake and wine, 
and made herself so agreeable that it was more 
than two hours before they could tear themselves 
away. With a loyal Whig smile up her graceful 
silken sleeve Mrs. Murray reflected that General 
Putnam was surely taking advantage of the 
opportunity she was thus giving him. 

Records have not yet been found to show that 
*'01d Put'' ever missed any opportimity for a 

Harlem Hei^Kts 351 

shrewd military move. While Howe was thus 
occupied with the charming lady's entertain- 
ment, Putnam was able to march his four 
thousand men up the shore of the Hudson, imtil 
he touched the right wing of the main army. 
Thus the Americans were gathered, Washington 
in his headquarters at what was later called the 
Jumel Mansion. 

iioth Street marks the southern botmdary of 
that district formerly called Harlem Heights. 
On Broadway, north of 113th Street, stands St. 
Luke's Home for Aged Women; here is a memo- 
rial of the battle. This height which stretches 
about you at this point, sloping down toward the 
river on the west, is the land occupied by the 
British just before the conflict. The memorial 
window is on the staircase landing of the Home. 

North along Broadway, you come to the 
tablet at 11 8th Street, on the Engineering Build- 
ing of Columbia University. ''To commemo- 
rate the Battle of Harlem Heights, won by 
Washington's troops on this site, September 
16, 1776," runs the inscription. The flags, 
swords, muskets, and smoke of battle, and heroic 
figures, are depicted. 

On that auttmm day of '76 which this square 
of bronze pictures, the British forces were roimd 
about here. They had made their camp on this 
side of 125th Street, and were filled with over- 
weening confidence. It did not disturb them in 

352 TKe Heart of Ne-w YorK 

the least that two detachments of American 
Rangers had been sent out that morning from the 
Point of Rocks at the comer of 126th Street and 
Columbus Avenue, under the command of 
Knowlton and Leitch, with the aim of getting 
in the rear of the British on Vanderwater's 
Heights, now the grounds of Columbia Uni- 
versity. Nor were they disturbed by a frontal 
attack; this, in fact, was so unsuccessful that the 
British became overbold, and one of their 
buglers advanced to the height near the river, 
now Claremont, and sounded the fox chase. 
The insolence of the cfiallenge roused all the 
fire that slimibered under American coats. 

The upshot was the battle in the Buckwheat 
Field. Where Barnard College rises, where its 
athletic field fronts its doors of learning, there 
waved the grain in '76. It was to this point, near 
119th Street, that the Americans pushed their 
way; here for two hours raged one of the sharpest 
conflicts of the Revolution. Shepherd says: 

''The field, snowy with the blossoms of coming 
harvest, an hour before peacefully smiling imder 
the rays of a September sun, was now ruthlessly 
trampled by the hurrying feet of the combatants, 
its sunlight obscured by a pall of dust and smoke. 
Still, though the harvest of grain might be 
destroyed, a harvest of hope was to be garnered. 
Another impetuous charge, and the British were 
driven headlong from the field." 

BlocKKoxise of Mornixi^side Hei^Kts 353 

Before continuing in the path of this battle- 
story, it is convenient to cross to Amsterdam 
Avenue, where you can see the remains of the 
old blockhouse with its flying flag at the head 
of Morningside Park. It is associated with the 
War of 1 8 12. Port Horn was the height of 
rocks just to the south of it, partially cut out 
by a park path to-day, but still high and rugged . 
This point took its name from Major Joseph 
Horn, who supervised the erection of the works 
at McGown's Pass. Another memorial of the 
War of 1 8 12 is to be seen near by, in the tablet 
on Fayerweather Hall, at 117th Street and 
Amsterdam Avenue. 

Back to Broadway and the Revolution. As 
you go north you will find yourself descending 
into a little valley, reaching its lowest line at 
Manhattan Street. This valley was the boimd- 
ary line between the British and American camps ; 
you have been walking through the district of 
the former, you are now confronted by the 
latter, on the rising ground beyond. The 
Americans had the advantage of a higher 

In pre-Revolutionary days, when Dutch 
names abounded, this depression of land, reach- 
ing west to Fort Lee Ferry, had been known 
as Matje David's Vly, or the Widow David's 
Meadow. In Revolutionary days it came to be 
known as the Hollow Way. It was across the 

354 The Heart of New York 

Hollow Way that the insolent bugle sounded the 
fox chase, from Claremont to the American 
camp north of the valley. At the western end 
of the valley was a little ferry even then; at the 
eastern end was the Point of Rocks from which 
the Americans could watch the movements of 
their enemies. This was at Columbus Avenue, 
^nd has been blasted away. 

Continuing north on Broadway to 1626. Street 
and turning east for more than a block, you 
reach the Roger Morris or Jumel Mansion where 
Washington made his headquarters from Sep- 
tember 1 6th to October 21st of 1776. The 
American camp reached upward from the Hol- 
low Way to this building, and commanded the 
situation. Here, in the north room known as 
the Cotmcil Chamber, the General discussed 
his plans and gave commands, to a most suc- 
cessful issue. 

Familiar as the hotise is, with its quaintly 
furnished rooms, its stately chairs and cabinets 
of past days, its four-posters and other specimens 
of mellow mahogany, there are additions made 
from time to time which give it a refreshed 
interest. It is rather recently that the attic of 
the old house has been opened to the public, 
and here are displayed some of the most delight- 
ful treasures of the whole building. The quilting 
room has an ancient frame set up, a quilt in the 
making stretched upon it; The spinning room 

Co-wpatKs and FootpatKs 355 

has a fine collection of old wheels^ Tucked away 
under the eaves is the candle room, with all the 
dips in a row, hanging by their wicks and suggest- 
ing a line of Bluebeard's wives. 

In the yard is an ancient fireplace and the 
floor of a hut used by a military officer at Fort 
Washington. The curious fire irons of 1776 are in 
place, and the floor has been relaid as it was 

The first streets on Manhattan grew from 
cowpaths and footpaths which wound deviously 
and wandered at their own sweet will. In the 
lower part of the island to-day, the streets have 
the same habit of twisting and tangling, follow- 
ing about the same lines as the original paths. 
The fort, standing where the present Custom 
House stands, was the heart of old New York; 
it furnished the center of defense, and, during 
days of peace, it furnished in its open space 
(Bowling Green) a gathering spot where Maypole 
dances were held and soldiers paraded. 

Naturally, roads led from this fort; one in the 
direction of the Brooklyn ferry, practically 
equivalent to the line of Stone Street and Pearl 
Street of to-day, winding up at Peck Slip. The 
other set out toward the north, through the 
heart of the island, and so on into the unin- 
habited land beyond the town. In Broadway 
of the present we see the traces of this. Later 

356 The Heart of New Torh 

on, Wall Street followed the line of a wooden 
wall. Albert Ulmann says: 

''The wooden wall that was erected along the 
line to which the name still clings was bnilt in 
1653 to protect the town against a threatened in- 
vasion of New Englanders, 'a lithe, slippery, ag- 
gressive race,' whom the Dutch looked upon half 
in fear and half in scorn. The invasion never 
took place, but the wall remained for nearly half 
a century and succeeded nobly in keeping the 
town from growing beyond its useless barrier." 

More and more roads developed as time ad- 
vanced. One of these was the Greenwich Road, 
about the same as Greenwich Street of the 
present. It came to be a fashionable driveway 
when weather permitted; dtiring violent rains 
it was unpopular, because of its crossing of 
Lispenard's Meadows and Minetta Water. 

The most of New York's early growth tended 
toward the northeast, hence the streets in that 
direction developed earlier than Broadway and 
the west side. The Bouwerie Lane, later the 
Bowery, was important among these. 

There are various origins alleged for the name 
of Maiden Lane, which to the Dutch was ''The 
Maiden's Path." It followed a stream, and 
some claim that here the maidens gathered on 
wash-day, hence the name. Others more roman- 
tically say that it was a lover's lane where the 
most beautiful maidens abounded. 

Poem by CHarles Hanson To-wne 357 

But no street is so filled with pulsing New York 
life, both in the present and in tradition, as 
Broadway. Stephen Jenkins has summed it up 
as *'The Greatest Street in the World/' It 
deserves its own chapter as the main artery 
from the heart of New York. It throbs with 
the very life-blood of Manhattan, which Charles 
Hanson Towne has described in verse: 

Man's greatest miracle is accomplished here. 
Steeple and dome he hurls high in the air, 
Until, like dreams in marble and in stone, 
They lift their wonder to a world amazed. 

So here, when visions of new beauty rise, 

Behind them float the dreams of cities old 

Fallen now to silence, with the dust of kings. 

Who wrought these granite ghosts, saw more than we 

May ever see. He saw pale, tenuous lines 

On some age-mellowed shore where cities rose 

Proudly as Corinth or imperial Rome; 

He saw, through mists of vision, Baghdad leap 

To immaterial being, and he sought 

To snatch one curve from her elusive domes; 

He saw lost Nineveh and Babylon, 

And Tyre, and all the golden dreams of Greece, 

Coltunns and fanes that cannot be rebuilt, 

Ev'n as Shakespearian lines can never sing 

Again on any poet's resplendent page. 

But the vague Source of these most lovely things 

Were his for one high instant ; and he caught 

Their spirit and their glory for all time. 



BROADWAY does indeed represent, as no 
other street can represent, the very heart 
of New York. As Jenkins says, ''it is the 
epitome of the life of the great metropolis, with 
its various activities, mercantile, social, political 
and theatrical." To the Manhattanite himself, 
and to the stranger within his gates, Broadway 
is New York. 

As the preceding chapter has shown, its 
development was not as early as that of some 
other streets, although its actual beginning 
dates back to the days of the old fort at Bowl- 
ing Green. But the 'northwestern part of the 
town grew more slowly than the northeastern, 
and for a time Broadway blazed its solitary 
trail through the wilderness in its upper portion. 

The lleere Straat was the old Dutch name for 
Broadway. From the fort, it went north as far 
as Park Row in early days, following the course 
of Ann Street. Orchards and gardens, with their 
accompanying homesteads, flanked it in the 


Putnam in Ne-w YorK 359 

Seventeenth Century, and in fact (it did not 
cease to be a residence street until well into the 

The first building, geographically speaking, 
on Broadway, is Number i — ^the Washington 
Building. This in itself is modem, but it bears a 
tablet which marks it as the site of the ICennedy 
house, an old. landmark which stood imtil the 
latter part of the last century^ Archibald 
Kennedy was a captain in the British navy, 
later becoming Earl of Cassilis, and he built his 
mansion on this spot, connecting it by a bridge 
with his father-in-law's house at Number 3, so 
that on the occasions of his balls the belles of 
old New York were to be seen passing back and 
forth across this rialto above the river and 

When General Israel Putnam came to New 
York dining the Revolution he took up his 
headquarters in this house and remained here 
until the American forces were driven from the 
city. It was in April, 1776, that he came to take 
command of New York until the arrival of 
Washington. Later on, it was for a time the 
residence of Nathaniel Prime, the wealthy 
merchant, whose up-town dwelling we visited 
in the preceding chapter. 

Bowling Green, adjoining the ancient fort, 
was the center of life in early days, when soldiers 
and merrymakers gathered there. In the follow- 

360 THe Heart of Vleynr YorK 

ing centtiry, when the days of the Revolution 
approached, it saw stirring events. The gilded 
equestrian statue of George III, which had been 
set up in 1770, was torn down by a riotous mob 
six years later, and the lead of which it was 
made was converted into bullets for the Ameri- 
can army. It is said that 42,000 bullets were 
made from the statue, by the wife and daughter 
of Oliver Wolcott of Connecticut. The tail and 
bridle of the horse, together with a portion of the 
pedestal, have been preserved in the musetim of 
the New York Historical Society. 

Where Wall Street meets iJroadway stands 
Trinity Church, the parish dating from 1696. 
The plot of land now occupied by the church 
and graveyard was set aside in early days as a 
garden for the Dutch Company. The old Dutch 
burying-ground was closed about 1676, and this 
plot has been used as a burying-ground since that 
time. Many famous Americans have been laid 
to rest here; the sarcophagus of Captain James 
Lawrence is one of the most widely known 
tombs within the old yard His words, ''Don't 
give up the ship!'' have passed into history. 

The original church was burned in 1776, re- 
built after the Revolution and the jresent 
building was erected in 1839. The bron e doors 
were designed by St. Gaudens, and the reredos 
was the gift of J. J. and William Astor. 

Just above, where a modem skyscraper stands, 

'Smith's Folly,'' Built for a Bridal Gift to the Daughter of President Adams. 

The Old Home of Nathaniel Prime, the Merchant Prince of Early Days, 

The Van Cortlandt Mansion. 

Montgomery's Burial 361 

was the fine house of the Van Cortlandt family, 
and the sugar-house was behind it. Before 
leaving Broadway, we shall come to another 
Van Cortlandt home, which, happily, is well 

St. Paul's Church, near Fulton Street, was 
one of Trinity's many children, but the building 
itself is older than the present Trinity building, 
dating back to 1764. The pew occupied by 
Washington is preserved. General Richard 
Montgomery was buried here; his remains 
having been brought from Quebec where he 
fell. Upon leaving his wife for the expedition 
against Quebec it is said that he told her, '*My 
honor is engaged, and you shall never blush 
for your Montgomery." 

So ended an ideally romantic love-story, for 
the two were never to meet again. The funeral- 
boat bearing his remains came slowly down the 
river, and, looking from her house, she saw it 
approach. '*The pomp with which it was con- 
ducted added to my woe," she wrote. He was 
buried with the honors of war. 

Across the way from St. Paul's the old Astor 
House was opened in 1836, and the names of its 
early patrons include almost all the famous 
persons who visited New York in those days. 
Irving, Dickens, Jenny Lind, Hawthorne, Daniel 
Webster, Abraham Lincoln, and Henry Clay are 
some of the names picked up at random. 

362 The Heart of New YorK 

Broadway continues past City Hall Park, 
which was the Commons of earlier days, and 
played a vital r61e in the city's history. It came 
to be a meeting-place on public occasions, when 
speeches were to be made and the voice of the 
people heard. The first popular assembly in 
opposition to the Stamp Act was held here 
November i, 1765. Over and over similar 
meetings were held here during the months 
before its repeal. In rum and ale and a roasted 
ox the people celebrated their victory the follow- 
ing year — on the Commons, also. 

Early government was conducted on and 
about the Commons. The poor-house was 
erected where the county court-house now 
stands, and near it the jail. Stocks, cage, pillory, 
and whipping-post were added to the gloomy 
gathering. Not far away, near the corner of 
Chatham and Chambers streets, the gallows 
was erected, having been removed from the 
neighborhood of the old fort. The famous old 
Bridewell was built near Broadway in 1775, and 
served as a patriot prison, along with the jail, 
during the Revolution. 

To-day our own modem City Hall stands on 
the site of these early buildings, in the thick of 
their history. Among the interesting spots now 
to be seen is the ''Governors' Room," containing 
portraits of almost the complete line of New Yorlc 
State governors, beginning with George Clinta 1. 

Irving and Terry 363 

The statue of Nathan Hale, by Macmonnies, 
stands near by, opposite the post office and facing 
Broadway. Jenkins relates the story of pointing 
out this statue to an Englishman who looked 
long at the bronze face, then said: 

''If that is a correct picture of Hale, surely no 
man was less fitted to be a spy than he/' 

The old theatrical district began on Broad- 
way not far above the Commons. The Broad- 
way Theater was between Pearl and Worth 
streets — ^Edwin Forrest and young Lester Wal- 
lack are among the names associated with its 
halcyon days. The first Wallack's Theater was 
at the comer of Broome Street, the second at 
13th Street, and many a famous production 
saw its first night in these two houses. Henry 
Irving and Ellen Terry made their first Ameri- 
can appearance in the upper house, which had 
been named the Star; Booth and Barrett, 
Bernhardt and Modjeska, added to its glory. 

A walk along all these blocks of lower Broad- 
way is a passing among ghosts, for not a stone is 
left of most of the buildings once famous. The 
birthplace of Julia Ward Howe, for instance, 
used to stand at the corner of Bond Street; one 
of the homes of Fenimore Cooper was a house 
near Prince Street; but these, along with the 
other homes of distinguished Americans, old 
hotels, theaters, and famous business centers, 
have vanished. Only some half-century ago 

364 TKe Heart of Ne-w YorK 

Pfaff's beer-cellar near Bleecker Street was the 
chosen resort for such bohemians as Walt 
Whitman, Artemus Ward (C. F. Browne), Henry 
Clapp, and many more. Wilson says, " Lounging 
into Pfaff's place one day in 1856, in company 
with Fitz- James O'Brien, he [Clapp] was so 
delighted with the beer served him that he 
straightway sounded its praises among his 
comrades, who thereupon made Pfaff's their 
favorite resort/' 

Jenny Danforth and Ada Clare were two of 
the brilliant members of this group. The latter 
was both actress and author, as well as beauty, 
''and the embodiment of female bohemianism. 
She parried thrusts of wit as deftly as a swords- 
man would a foil, and her laugh rang the clearest 
when an tmfortunate one was tmhorsed in the 
shock of intellect." 

Niblo's Gardens — ^the old National Academy 
of Design — ^the farm of Andrew Elliott at Fourth 
Street — ^they are among the procession of mem- 
ories. Grace Chtirch at the comer of loth 
Street dates back to 1846, a comparatively early 
year when one looks down the line of modern 
buildings leading up to it. 

A century ago and more, the Bowery and 
Broadway were the two important thorough- 
fares of the island. In 1807 the commissioners 
laid out a plan to make these two roads meet at 
the ''Tulip Tree" which stood in what is now 

Union Square 365 

Union Square. Above Union Square was the 
Bloomingdale Road in those years. Broadway 
had bent at loth Street, just below, to pre- 
serve the Brevoort homestead, and at Union 
Square it met the Bloomingdale Road which 
started on its course by making a diagonal line 
across the Square. 

In the center of Union Square a large fountain 
was placed in 1842, to mark the introduction of 
Croton water into the city. It has remained 
ever since, surroimded by tulips and pansies 
each spring. 

A statue of Lincoln stands in Broadway near 
the Square. The story is told that while a 
Lincoln's Birthday celebration was taking place 
all around the statue, nobody remembered to de- 
corate the bronze. Late in the day a policeman 
passed and observed the neglect; he hied him to 
the nearest florist, purchased a small bouquet 
of carnations, laid it on the bronze arm, and for 
many days the withered little offering clung to 
the great sculptured figure. 

Madison Square is on the site of the old 
Potter's Field. It was laid out for a parade 
ground, to extend as far north as 34th Street. 
Gradually its outline contracted, but it still 
remains a refreshing spot of green in the midst 
of a seething city. Opposite, on the west side of 
Broadway, stood the famous old Hoffman 
House, in the bar-room of which the paintings 

366 THe Heart of Ne^w YorK 

attracted visitors from all over the country. 
Nymphs and Satyr by Bougereau was particu- 
larly admired, among works by the greatest 
artists of two continents. 

Prom this point on came to be the chief hotel 
district, the Gilsey, the Grand, and the Albemarle 
being among the list. It is not many years, 
indeed, since the hotels moved up ten to twenty 
blocks, and left this district to its traditions. 

Passing on up through the many blocks now 
given over to new theaters and hotels, we arrive 
at Long Acre Square, or Times Square as it is 
now known, where the New York Times building 
rears its many stories. Jenkins gives the follow- 
ing account of its Revolutionary history: 

"On the fifteenth of September, 1776, the 
British landed at Kip's Bay from Long Island 
with the intention of cutting off the American 
Army, then in full retreat. The greater part of 
the army was well up on the Bloomingdale Road, 
but Putnam with four thousand troops was still 
in the city. Washington despairingly attempted 
to prevent the landing of the British on the 
shore of the East River, but his troops fled 
almost before a shot was fired. Word had been 
sent to Putnam to join the chief, and he hurried 
his troops out of the city. Guided by Aaron 
Burr over the Middle Road from the fortifica- 
tions above Canal Street, he managed to escape 
the cordon of British troops being thrown across 

Coxintry Seats of Colonial Day's 367 

the island and joined the chief on the Blooming- 
dale Road at this point, barely getting through 
in the nick of time. A tablet to commemorate 
this joyfnl meeting of the two generals was 
erected on the west side of the sqtiare by the 
Sons of the Revolution/' 

Country seats of wealthy New York merchants 
occupied the bank of the Hudson in colonial 
days, reaching along near the Bloomingdale 
Road. Lorillard, Livingston, and Clarkson were 
among the well-known property owners below 
96th Street. Some of the estates were con- 
fiscated during the Revolution because of the 
Loyalist tendency of their owners. 

At 68th Street you will find the Bloomingdale 
Reformed Dutch Church, lineal descendant 
of the old church built close by in 1805. Yellow 
fever had broken out in the city below, and 
many inhabitants desired to hold service in 
this safer locality; hence the establishment of 
the church. 

Broadway uptown passes over Harlem Heights 
of the battle story, and through the property 
of Columbia University, once King's College. 
Changes have taken place in the course of the 
old street, and the present Broadway does not 
coincide in all parts with the old road; but if 
you will turn east at Manhattan Street, for about 
half an ordinary block, then go north to Law- 
rence Street, you will come upon a short street 

368 The Heart of New York 

marked "Old Broadway.'* This follows for its 
brief course the actual line of the old Blooming- 
dale Road. Near it is St. Mary's Church on 
Lawrence Street; it is only a few years ago that 
the original building, more than a century old, 
gave way to the new. It is said that the early 
parishioners who lived farther down-town used 
to come to church by boat, up the North 

On the old road, at 140th Street, Alexander 
Hamilton erected his country residence which 
he named "The Grange," after his ancestral 
home in Scotland. The building has been moved, 
and now stands on the east side of Convent 
Avenue, used for the parish house of St. Luke's 
church. Hamilton always drove back and forth 
from this house to his city office. On the day 
when he was to meet Aaron Burr, in response to 
the duel challenge, he set out to drive to town 
as usual, without letting his wife know that he 
might never return. 

The Jimiel Mansion has been mentioned in 
the preceding chapter. It was built by Roger 
Morris for his bride, Mary Philipse of Yonkers. 
The legend of Mary's suitors has been told in 
Chapter XVIII. Later it came into the posses- 
sion of John Jacob Astor, and about a century 
ago he sold it to Stephen Jumel, whose brilliant 
widow lived to become the reluctant bride of 
old Aaron Burr, who won her by bringing a 

Fort Washington 369 

clergyman along as his lieutenant, and demand- 
ing that the wedding take place then and there. 

Above here, at i68th Street, Broadway and 
the Kingsbridge Road become one, and con- 
tinue under the name of the former. It leads 
us past Port Washington, that sister fort of Lee 
on the Palisades, whose plans were drawn by 
Washington's engineer. Major Rufus Putnam^ 
It is the highest point of land on Manhattan 
Island, and offered a remarkable situation for a 
defense; this fact was appreciated by the British, 
who took it and re-named it Fort Knyphausen. 
A marble seat and tablet, the gift of James 
Gordon Bennett, mark the site of the fort. 

The King's Bridge of old days stood about 
twenty yards east of where the bridge of to-day 
stands. It was built in 1693 and was established 
by Royal Grant of William and Mary to Freder- 
ick Philipse of the Manor of Philipsburgh. Its 
successor, built in 17 13, saw the retreat of 
Washington's troops in October of '76, and was 
broken down, but repaired. After the Revolu- 
tion a new and good bridge was built. 

Among the old homes to be fotmd along 
Broadway is the Dyckman house, at the comer 
of 209th Street. Another is the Macomb 
mansion facing the Broadway bridges In the 
Seventeenth Century this was a public house; 
at the time of the Revolution it was "Cox's 
Tavern"; and in 1797 it was bought by Alexan- 

370 THe Heart of Ne^w YorK 

der Macomb, From Fordham, Edgar Allan 
Poe often came to visit at the house. The old 
inn is referred to by Cooper; in Satanstoe he 
shows us his hero, Corney Littlepage, and Dirck, 
Comey's friend, often stopping at this hostelry, 
which, in the tale, was kept by Mrs. Lighte. 

General Macomb built a dam and mill near 
by. About the middle of the last century the 
house was sold to J. H. Godwin. 

Above here our way leads to Van Cortlandt 
Park, named for the owner of the mansion still 
preserved within its boundaries. The house was 
built in 1748, and is now in the charge of the 
Colonial Dames, who have established a musetim 
within its walls. Frederick Van Cortlandt was 
the builder. 

In Revolutionary days the building served as 
headquarters for the Hessian Jaegers. One of 
the traditions of the house is that therein expired, 
in the arms of his betrothed, one Captain Rowe 
of the Jaegers, who had received a mortal wotmd 
while battling with some American troops not 
far away. 

Many famous guests were entertained at the 
house, Washington having spent a night there, 
just before he left for Yorktown in 178 1. Again, 
in 1783, he found lodging there, just before 
entering New York by way of King's Bridge. 
Rochambeau, and King William IV (then the 
Duke of Clarence) were entertained there. 

D\itcK Keystones 371 

Frederick Van Cortlandt died the year after 
erecting the btiilding, but his eldest son, Jacobus, 
fell heir to it and maintained it with all the 
ambition which his father had shown. 

Near the house is preserved a window of the 
old sugar house in Duane Street. Another 
point of interest is the set of old Dutch keystones 
above the windows of the house. 

Broadway now proceeds to Yonkers. We 
have already followed it to Sleepy Hollow. 





IN setting out to make the little pilgrimages 
* aroimd Manhattan which have been sketched 
in the foregoing chapters, the traveler in auto- 
mobile or carriage, or the doughty pedestrian, 
will probably find sufficient directions within 
the chapters themselves. For him who travels 
by ferry, trolley, or railroad, the following brief 
itineraries may prove convenient. 

Long Island 

I . To Jericho. (Chapter IL) 

Take L. I. R. R. to Jamaica; or go from 
Brooklyn Bridge by Elevated Road (Lexington 
Avenue and Cypress Hills train) to terminus at 
Cypress Hills. Take Jamaica trolley to King's 
Park. See other landmarks on Ftdton St. 

Take trolley to Hollis. 

Take electric car to Hempstead. Runs every 

Take trolley to Mineola, then to Hicksville. 


yj6 Itineraries 

By leaving the car en route, and walking to the 
north, a detour may be made to Old Westbury. 
From Hicksville, walk or procure a conveyance 
for Jericho (about two miles). 

2. To Astoria and Flushing. (Chapter III.) 
Take Second Avenue trolley or Elevated 

Road to 92d St. 

Walk east to the river, and take Astoria ferry. 

Take Broadway trolley; at Woodside, transfer 
to Flushing trolley. Leave the car at St. George's 
Church, Main St. Other landmarks within short 
walking distance; Quaker Church near the Play- 
groimd, Bowne House on Bowne Ave., etc. 

3. To Flatlands. (Chapter IV.) 

Take Brooklyn subway to Atlantic Avenue. 

Take Flatbush Ave. trolley to Lefferts Home- 
stead, 563 Flatbush Avenue. Walk to points 
named near by. 

Continue on Flatbush Ave. trolley to Flat- 
lands Church, King's Highway. 

Return to trolley, continue to point of transfer, 
take Bergen Beach car. 

4. Over the Battleground of Long Island. 

(Chapter V.) 

Take Myrtle or De Kalb Ave. car at Brooklyn 
Bridge, ride to Fort Greene Park. 

Take Myrtle Ave. car, transferring to Vander- 
bilt Ave. car, to Prospect Park. 

Staten Island Roxites 377 

Walk up Eastern Drive to Battle Pass Tablet, 
thence to Lookout Hill. 

From Ninth St. entrance of Park take car to 
Greenwood Cemetery. 

(Side trips may be made to Navy Yard, 
entrance at Sands St., and to Battle Tablet at 
comer of Flatbush Ave. and Fulton St.) 

New York Harbor and Sandy Hook Region 

5. The Highlands. (Chapter VI.) 

At foot of West 42d St. take Sandy Hook 
route steamer to Atlantic Highlands, or C. R. R. 
of N. J. 

Take Leonardo trolley to Chapel Hill Road. 
Walk to Chapel Hill, about a mile. Various 
points to be seen close together. 

Start along highway toward the coast. Short 
detour to Lighthouse. 

Continue to Water Witch. Return by boat 
or train. It is possible to return from the 
Highlands to New York by trolley, by way of 
South Amboy. This requires several hours. 

Staten Island and Beyond 

6. To Oude Dorp. (Chapter VII.) 

Take ferry to St. George, Staten Island, at 
South Ferry. Walk to Lighthouse Reservation, 
then to Public Museum. 

378 Itineraries 

Returning to Bay St., take trolley to Grant, 
^Tlanters' Hotel/' 

Continue on Bay St. to Clinton, walk up 
Pavilion Hill. Return to Bay St. and walk to 
other points named. Detour at Chestnut Ave. 
to Garibaldi House. 

South Beach car to Fort Wadsworth and 
Arrochar Park. 

7. To Richmond, (Chapter VIH.) 

St. George ferry and Richmond car to Emerson 

Continue on Richmond car, stopping at 
Perrine house, to New Dorp. Leave car at 
Moravian Church. Walk to Black Horse Tav- 
ern and Fountain House. 

Continue on car to its terminus at Richmond. 

8. Tottenville and Perth Amhoy. (Chapter IX.) 
St. George ferry, Staten Island Railroad to 

Tottenville. The ferryboats which leave on the 
hour connect with the trains. 

Walk to Billopp House, then cross by ferry to 
Perth Amboy. 

Return by C. R. R. of N. J. 

New Jersey 

9. Newark. (Chapter X.) 

Take Cortlandt or Desbrosses St. ferry to 
Jersey City, then trolley to Newark. Or take 
Tube directly to Newark. 

Ne-w Jersey Routes 379 

Visit points near Market and Broad sts., 
going north to State and Broad, the old Plume 

Take Clinton Ave. car to Gouvemeur St., 
walk to Mt. Pleasant Ave., see Cockloft Hall. 

Take Main Line trolley to Old Lyons Farms, 
leaving car at Chancellor St. 

10. Elizabeth and Beyond. (Chapter XI.) 
Take Penn. R. R. to Elizabeth; or, Tube to 

Newark, thence Main Line trolley, leaving car 
at East Jersey St. 

Continue to Rahway by Penn. R. R., thence 
to Woodbridge, by branch railroad. 

Or, continue on main line of Penn. R. R. 
through Rahway to New Brunswick. 

New Brtmswick can be reached by trolley 
from Elizabeth by way of Boimd Brook. Main 
Line trolley. 

11. Plainfield and Bound Brook. (Chapter 


Take C. R. R. of N. J. to Plainfield. 

Take trolley to Dtmellen, and make side trip 
to Washington Rock. 

Continue by trolley to Botmd Brook. 

Or, take Tube to Newark, and thence trolley 
all the way. The running time from Newark 
to Boimd Brook is about two and one-half hours. 

38o Itineraries 

12. To Springfield and Morristown. (Chapter 

Take D. L. and W. R. R. to Milbiim, thence 
continue by trolley to Springfield, Chatham, 
Madison, and Morristown. Rettim by D. L. 
and W. R. R. 

Or, take Tube to Newark, thence trolley all 
the way, stopping at above-named towns. This 
trolley goes all the way to Lake Hopatcong. 
At Newark, take Springfield Ave. line to Maple- 
wood, changing there for Springfield car. 

13. To Passaic and Pater son. (Chapter XIV.) 
Take Erie R. R. to Passaic. 

Continue on same railroad to Paterson. (Or 
go by trolley.) 

Upon returning, detour by trolley may be 
made, from the Erie R. R. on the New Jersey 
side, to Weehawken, to see Hamilton montiment. 

Or, take Broadway subway to Manhattan 
St. station, go west, and take Fort Lee ferry, 
at its terminus take trolley for Paterson, and 
return by way of Passaic. It is possible to 
trolley from Paterson to Passaic, to Hoboken, 
to Weehawken. 

In Paterson, take Singac car for Falls. 

14. To Alpine, Fort Lee, and Hackensack. 
(Chapter XV.) 

Take N. Y, C. and H. R. R. R. to Yonkers. 

"WestcHester Covinty Roxites 38'! 

(Or Broadway subway to terminus, then trolley 
to Getty Square, Yonkers.) 

Take ferry to Alpine. 

Walk south along shore to Fort Lee (about 
7 miles). 

Take trolley to Hackensack. 

Return by trolley to Fort Lee ferry, cross, and 
take subway. 

Or, return by Erie R. R. from Hackensack to 
New York. 

Rockland County, New York 

15. Sneden's Landing and Tappan. (Chapter 

Go to Dobbs Ferry by N. Y. C. and H. R. R.R. 
(Or, trolley to Hastings as in 16, then take 
railroad to Dobbs Ferry.) 

Take ferry to Sneden's Landing. 

Walk up Palisades and on to Tappan. 

Westchester County, New York, and into 

16. Along the Hudson to Sleepy Hollow. (Chap- 
ter XVH.) 

It is possible to trolley to Hastings, going by 
Broadway subway to terminus, then trolley to 
Getty Square, then taking Warburton Ave. car 
to Hastings. 

3^2 Itineraries 

Or, take N. Y. C. and H. R. R. R. to Hastings. 

Continue by same railroad to Dobbs Ferry, 
Irvington, Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow. 
(Philipse Manor is the station for the last-named 

17. On the Sawmill River Road. (Chapter 

Go to Yonkers by N. Y. C. and H. R. R.R. or 
by trolley. (See 14.) 

Take same railroad (Putnam Div.) to Ardsley. 

Walk to Rochambeau house. 

Continue on same railroad, or walk, to Elms- 

Walk to Four Comers. 

18. To White Plains by way of Scarsdale. 
(Chapter XIX.) 

Take N. Y. C. and H. R. R. R. (Harlem Div.) 
to Tuckahoe, Scarsdale, Hartsdale, White Plains, 
and North White Plains. 

Or, take Bronx Park subway to West Farms 
station, then trolley to Mt. Vernon, and there 
take White Plains trolley, stopping at other 
points en route. 

Or, take N. Y., W., and B. electric road to 
White Plains. 

Walk from White Plains to North White 
Plains if you are to see ancient mortar about 
midway between. 

Bronx Routes 383 

19. The Boston Post Road. (Chapter XX.) 
Take N. Y., N. H., and H. R. R. to Eastchester 

(Mt. Vernon), New Rochelle, Mamaroneck, Rye, 
Greenwich, and Cos Cob. 

Or, take Third Avenue Elevated Railroad 
to 129th St., thence N. Y., W., and B. electric 
road to Kingsbridge Road station. (This is 

Continue on same railway to New Rochelle. 

Take Stamford trolley to all other points. 

The Bronx 

20. Throg's Neck and City Island. (Chapter 

Take N. Y., N. H., and H. R. R. (Harlem 
River Branch) to Hunt's Point, Clason Point, 
Westchester (Throg's Neck), City Island Sta- 

By taking Third Ave. Elevated Railroad to 
129th St., and there taking the Westchester 
Ave. trolley, it is possible to trolley all the way 
to Clason Point and Westchester. Trolley 
continues part of the way down Throg's Neck, 
one must walk or drive the rest of the way. 

Trolley to end of City Island. 

Or, take Government boat directly to Fort 
Schuyler (Throg's Neck). Pass must be secured 
in advance from the Commandant at Fort 
Schuyler. Boat goes Tues., Thurs., and Sat. 

3^4 Itineraries 


21. Old Manhattan. (Chapter XXII.) 

Take Second Ave. Elevated Railroad, walk 
east on 53d St., continue north to various points, 
walking or by trolley, to 89th St. (East Side 

Take Broadway subway to Cathedral Park- 
way station, continue north, walking or by 
trolley, to various points as far as Manhattan 
St. There take subway again for Roger Morris 
Mansion (i62d St.). (Trip over battleground 
of Harlem Heights.) 

22. Broadway. (Chapter XXIII.) 

The Van Cortlandt House, Macomb House, 
and other points named in the northern part of 
the city are most conveniently reached by the 
Broadway subway. 


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the Commercial Metropolis of the U. S. By a Gentle- 
man residing in this City. New York, 1807. 

Picture of New-York, The, and Stranger's Guide to the 
Commercial Metropolis of the U. S. New York, 1828. 

Post, John J. Old Streets, Roads, Lanes, Piers, and 
Wharves of New York. New York, 1882. 

Prime, Nathaniel S. History of Long Island, New 
York, 1845. 

RoMEYN, Theodore B. Historical Discourse Delivered 
at Hackensack, N. J. New York, 1870. 

Ross, Peter. History of Long Island. New York and 
Chicago, 1903. 

Salter, Edwin, and Geo. C. Beekman. Old Times in 
Old Monmouth. Freehold, N. J., 1887. 

Salter, Edwin. A History of Monmouth and Ocean 
Counties. Bayonne, N. J., 1890. 

Scharf, J. Thomas. History of Westchester Co., New 
York. Philadelphia, 1886. 

Shaw, William H., compiler. History of Essex and 
Hudson Counties, N. J. Philadelphia, 1884. 

Sherman, Andrew M. Historic Morristown, N. J. 
Morristown, 1905. 

Shonnard, Frederic, and W. W. Spooner. History 
of Westchester Co., N. Y. New York, 1900. 

Shriner, Charles A. Paterson, New Jersey. (Aus- 
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Sparks, Jared, editor. Library of American Biography. 
Boston, 1834, 1844. New York, 1854. 

Biblio^rapHy 391 

Staten Island and Staten Islanders, Compiled by the 

Richmond Borough Association of Women Teachers, 

New York, 1909. 
Stiles, Henry R. History of the City of Brooklyn. 

Albany, 1869. 
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York, 1872. 
Thompson, Benjamin F. History of Long Island. 

New York, 1843. 
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Trolley Exploring, Pub. by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 
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Paterson, New Jersey, 1882. 
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City of Newark. New York and Chicago, 191 3. 
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New York, 1853. 
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York, 1909. 
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and N. J., 1900. 
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Centuries. New York, 1901. 
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History of Perth Amboy. New York, 1856. 
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Wilson, James Grant, Ed. Memorial History of the 

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392 Biblio^rapHy 

Wilson, Rufus Rockwell. Historic Long Island. 
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" The National Pike and its Memories." New Eng- 
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New York: Old and New. Phila,, 1909. 


Acquackanonk, 207 

roads, ferry, and bridge, 
207, 210 
Adams, Miss, 345 
Albany Post Road, 252 
All Souls' Hospital, 202 
Alpine, 220 

Amherst, Sir Jeffrey, 115 
Anderson, Stephen, 306 
Andr^, Major, 243, 265, 266 

monument, 249 
Archer, Stephen, 254 
Ardsley, 281 
Areson, John, 19 
Arnold, Benedict, 247, 266, 268 

Jacob, 203 

tavern, 202 
Arrochar, 107 
Arthur Kill, 132 
Asgill, Capt., 93 
Aspinwall house, 45 
Astor, J. J., 38, 347, 360, 368 

house, 361 

William, 360 
Astoria, 36, 38 

Ferry, 36 
Atlantic Highlands, 94 

Babcock, Luke, 280 
Babylon stage trip, 32 
Bacon, E. M., 229 
Bangs, J. K., 281 
Bamet, Dr. William, 156 
Barren Island, 59 
Barretto, Francis, 324 

Point, 323 
Bartholdi, statue by, 81 
Bartow, Rev., 22 

Bound Brook, 184 

Elizabethtown, 168 

Harlem Heights, 350 

Long Island, 63 

Springfield, 190 

White Plains, 297 
Bayard home, 219 
Baylor, Lieut.-Col., 242 
Bedloe, Isaac, 81 
Bedloe's Island, 81 
Beeson, Congressman, 9 
Belcher, Gov., 161 
Bennett, James Gordon, 369 
Benton, Lieut.-Col., 116 
Bergen Beach, 56 

homestead, 57 

John, 58 
"Big House," the, Palisades, 

N. Y., 241 
Billopp, Capt., 124, 127 

Christopher (the younger), 

Eugenia, 129, 130 

house, 125 

Thomas, 130 
Black Horse Tavern, 115 
Blackwell, Robert, 344 
Blackwell's Island, 344 
Bloodgood, Dr., 45 
Bloomingdale Road, 365, 368 
Boisaubin, Vincent, 196 
Bolton, Robert, 291, 294, 303 
Borghim, Solon, 309 
Boston Post Road, 305 
Bottle Hill, 195 
Boudinot, Elias, 159 

Susan, 159 

family, 309 
Bound Brook, 184 
Bowery, the, 356 
Bowling Green, 355, 359 
Bowne, Eliza, 43 

house, 41 




Bowne, John, 41 . 

Thomas, 44 
Boxwood Hall, 158 
Brevoort homestead, 365 
Brinkerhoff, Jacob, 232 
Broadway, 252, 351, 358 
Bronx roads, 323 
Bronxdale, 290 
Bronxville, 291 
Brooklyn, 62 

ferry, 19 

roads, 66 
Brooklyn and Jamaica Turn- 
pike Co., 20 
Brown, C. T., ill 

Hachaliah, 322 

Jonathan, 322 
Budd, John, 322 
Bukett, ferryman, 19 
Bull's Ferry, 234 
Burdett, Etienne, 225 

home, 224 

Peter and wife, 224, 225 
Burdett's Ferry, 224 
Burr, Aaron, 46, 219, 368 

Rev. Aaron, 144 
Bush, Capt. and daughter, 318 
Butler, William A., 281 

Caldwell, Parson, 160, 163, 190, 

Camp Ground, Bound Brook, 

Carleton, Gen., 255 
Carpenter, Increase, 24 
Carteret, Elizabeth, 167 

George, 167 

Philip, 167 
Castle Hill Neck, 326 
Cedars of Lebanon, 45, 330 
Chapel Hill, 85 

lighthouse, 90 
Chatham, 194 
Chatterton's Hill, 299 
Chimney Rock, 188 

Bloomingdale, 367 

Chapel Hill, 89 

Dutch, Elmsford, 285 
Flatbush, 52 
Flatlands, 55 

Hackensack, 232 
Passaic, 210 
Eastchester, 306 
Friends', Flushing, 40 

Plainfield, 177 
German Reformed, New 

York, 347 
Grace Episcopal, Jamaica, 

Grace Episcopal, New 

York, 364 
Methodist Episcopal, Harts- 
dale, 295 
Presbyterian, Elizabeth, 

Presbyterian, Jamaica, 22 
Morris town, 201 
Newark, 143, 144 
Paterson, 217 
Springfield, 190 
St. Andrew's, Richmond, 

St. George's, Flushing, 39 

Hempstead, 28 
St. John's, Yonkers, 279 
St. Mary's, New York, 368 
St. Paul's, New York, 361 
Trinity, Newark, 146 
New York, 360 
City Island, 333 
Clare, Ada, 364 
Claremont, 352, 354 
Clarke, Maj., 121 
Clarkson family, 367 
Clason's Point, 326 
Classen, Siebert, 348 
Clayton, W. Woodford, 176 
Clifton, 104 
CHnton, Gov. George, 346 

Sir Henry, oi, 245 
Close, Nathaniel, 322 
Closter Landing, 220 
Clute, J. J., 97, 104 
Cochran, Dr. John, 199 

William F., 280 
Cockloft Hall, 149 
Golden, Cadwallader D., 8 
Columbia University, 351, 352, 

Coney Island, 82 
Conover, D., 83, 86 
Cooper, Daniel, 171 



C(X)per, Penimore, 288, 293, 314, 

329» 363 
Comelisson, Michael, 154 
Cornell, Thomas, 325 
Cornell's Neck, 325 
Comwallis, Gen., 221 

headquarters, 221 
Cortelyou, Aaron, 114 

family, 113 


Phebe, 53 

Simon, 82 
Cos Cob, 318, 320 
Covenhoven, Capt. Joseph, 92 
Covert, Luke, 187 
Cowboys, 256 
Cozzens, F. S., 281 

Davis, William T., 133 
Dayton, Jonathan, 159, 160 
De Lancey house, 314 

Maj., 25 
De Lancey's "Light Horse," 340 
Delaval, Mayor, 6 
De Lave, Mons., 216 
Denton's Brief Description, 170 
De Peyster family, 309 
De Warville, Brissot, 139 
Dickerson, Capt. Peter, 201 
Dickerson's Tavern, 200 
Dickinson, Jonathan, 168 
Disbrow chimney, 313 

family, 314 
Ditmas, Henry S., 54 
Dix house, 160 
Dobbs Ferry, 237, 254 

Jeremiah, 237 
Dongan, Gov., 119 
Dongan Hills, 111,114 
Doremus house, 217 
Doughty, Elias, 275 

Gen. John, 201 
Drake, Joseph Rodman, 324 

Thomas, 325 
Duffore, David, 345 
Dunbar, post rider, 32 
Dunellen, 182, 187 
Duxbury, Ellis, 120 
Dyckman house, 369 

Eastchester, 306 
Elizabeth, 155 

Elizabeth roads, 156, 168, 170 
Elliott farm, 364 
Ellis Island, 80 
Elmsford, 282 
Emerson Hill, no 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 11 i 

William, no 
Englewood Pier, 224 
Erasmus Hall High School, 53 
Erskine, Robert, 217 

Farmar, Thomas, 129 

Thomas, Judge, 129 
Fay house, 307 

Theodore S., 307 
Featherstone house, 284 
Ferris family, 327 

James, 327 

John, 327 
Filipson, Frederick, 270 
Fiske, John, 75, 245, 266 
Flanagan, Betty, 289 
Flandreau house, 310 
Flatbush, 51 

roads, 49, 60 
Flatlands, 54 

roads, 49, 60 
Flushing, I, 39 

Bridge and Road Co., 35 

Institute, 45 

roads, 35, 36 
Forbes, Philip J., 26 
Ford, Jacob, 197 

at Elizabeth, 162 

Hamilton, 82 

Lee, 225 

Nonsense, 203 

Putnam, 67 

Schuyler, 331 

Totten, 332 

Wadsworth, 106 

Washington, 227, 369 
Fort Lee, village, 225 
Fountain house, 118 
Four Comers, 287 
Fox, George, 41 

Oaks, 42 
Franklin, Gov. William, 134 
Freneau, Philip, 94 
Friends at 

Flushing, 40 



Friends at — Continued 

Jericho, 30 

Plainfield, 177 

Westbury, 30 

Woodbridge, 170, 178 
Fry, Elizabeth, 43 
Fulton, Robert, 8 
Furman, Gabriel, 32, 42 

Garibaldi, G., 104 

house, 104 
Garrison, Nicholas, 112 
Gerritsen family, 209 
Gibbet Island, 60, 80 
Gibbs, Pirate, 59, 80 
Gilman, Charles, 176 

widow of, 176 
Glentworth, secessionist, 89 
Glover, Col., 339 
Glover's Rock, 339 
Godwin, Abraham, 216 
Godwin, J. H., 370 
Gould, Helen M., 264 

Jay, 265 
Gouverneur family, 149 
Governor's Island, 80 
Governor's Mansion, Perth 

Amboy, 134 
Gowanus, 63 

Gracie, Archibald, 348, 349 
Graham, Robert, 296 
Gravesend Bay, 82 
Great Barn Island, 36 
Greene, Gen., 66, 190, 228, 245 
Greenwich, 319 
Greenwich Road, 356 
Greenwood Cemetery, 72 
Grey, Gen., 242 
Griffin, Col., 121 

Rev., 145 

Hackensack, 231 

River, 232 

Turnpike, 224 
Hale, Nathan, 363 
Half Moon, the, 222 
Hall, Matilda, 88 

Ralph and Mary, 337 
Hallett, William, 37 
Hallett's Cove, 37 

Point, 37 

Hamilton, Alexander, 161, 199, 

212, 218, 368 
Hamilton, J. C. L., 282 
Haring, Peter, 221 
Harlem Heights, 351 
Harrington, 221 
Harris Hook, 348 
Hart, Monmouth C, 346 
Harte, Bret, 193 
Hartsdale, 294 
Hasbrouck family, 254 
Hastings, 253 

Havemeyer estate, 329, 330 
Haviland's Inn, 316 
Heathcote family, 291, 292 
Heathcote Hill, 313, 315 
Hempstead, 28 

Turnpike, 27 
Hermit's Point, 224 
Hetfield house, 163 
Hicks, Deborah, 337 

Elias, 30 
Hicksites, 31 
Hicksville, 31 
Hodgson, Robert, 59 
Hoffman House, 365 
HolHs, 24 

Hollow Way, 350, 353 
Holly house, 318, 321 
Hollywood Inn, 280 
Hopping family, 86, 87 
Horn, Maj., 353 
Horn's Hook, 3A8 
Hotels on Broadway, 366 
Hotine house, 45 
Howard's Half Way House, 68 
Howe, Gen., 44, 65, 102, 106, 

298, 301, 339, 350 
Howe, Julia Ward, 363 
Huddy, Capt., 92 
Hudson, Hendrick, 94 
Huguenots, at 

New Rochelle, 307, 311 

Staten Island, 96, 97, 118 
Hunloke, Capt., 162 
Huntington estate, 329, 330 
Hunt's Point, 323 
Hurd, D. Hamilton, 322 
Husted, British guide, 285 
Hutchinson, Anne, 306 
Huyler's Landing, 223 
Hyler, Capt., 173 




Jameco, 23 

Mohicans, 274, 294, 316, 326 

Rockaway, 23 
IngersoU, Robert, 312 
Inn at Scarsdale, 292 
Inyard, Elizabeth, 113 
Irving family, 257 
Irving, Washington, 149, 228, 

256, 268, 270, 271, 349 
Irvington, 256 
Irwin, D. H., 87 
Iselin, Jacob, 284 
Islip, 13 

Jamaica, 20 

Jamaica and Jericho Turnpike, 

20, 30 
Jameson, Col., 267 
Jay family, 309 
house, 315 
John, 315 
Jenkins, Stephen, 5, 8, 11, 238, 

264, 276, 281, 315, 336, 357, 

Jericho, 30 
Jersey, the, 76 
Jersey City, 153 
Job Male Library, 181 
Jockey Hollow Road, 203 
Johnes, Parson, 200 
Johnson, J., 49 
Jones' Wood, 347 
Jouet, Cavalier, 164 

house, 163 
Jumel Mansion, 354, 368 
Jumel, Stephen and widow, 368 

Kelley, Frank Bergen, 126, 343 
Kemble, Gouverneur, 149 
Kennedy, Archibald, 359 

house, 359 
King, Rufus, 20, 21 

Mansion, 20, 21 
Kingsbridge, 14 

Road, 369 
King's Bridge, 369 
King's Highway, Long Island, 60 

New Jersey, 156 
Knight, Madam Sarah, 10, 305, 

Knyphausen, Gen., 190 

Landon, Melville D., 281 

La Tourette house, 185 

Lawrence, James, 360 

Lee, Charles, 227 

Lee, "Light Horse Harry," 153 

Lefferts family, 53 

J., 49 

Pieter, 51 
Leggett family, 325 
Leisler, Jacob, 308 
L'Enfant, Maj., 214 
Leonard family, 84 
Leonardo, 84 
Lester, Henry, 311 
Lewis, Dr. Dio, 281 
Liberty Hall, 164 
Lighthouse Reservation, Staten 

Island, 100 
Lilienthal, C. H., 252 
Lincoln, Gen. Benjamin, 184 
Lincoln statue, New York, 365 
Linnaean Botanic Garden, 44 
Lippincott, Capt., 92 
Livingston family, 367 

J. H., 54 

Mansion, Dobbs Ferry, 254 

Philip, 330 

Susannah, 155 

Van Brugh, 238, 254 

William and daughters, 164 
Loofburrow, John, 87 
Lorillard family, 367 
Lossing, Benson J., 94, 204, 229, 

248, 298, 300, 303 
Lott house, 54 
Low, C. P., 279 
Lower Closter, 223 
Luquer family, 309 
Lyndehurst, 264 
Lyons Farms, 150 

homestead, 152 

school, 151 

Macedonia^ the, 336 
Mack, Arthur C, 226 
Macmonnies, Frederick, 363 
Macomb, Alexander, 369 

Mansion, 369 
Madison, 195 
Magaw, Col., 228 
Maiden Lane, 356 
Mamaroneck, 313 



Manhattan, 343 

roads, 343, 355 
Manning, Capt. John, 344 
Mansion House, Hackensack, 

Marine Hospital, Staten Island, 

Marquand family, 309 
Marsh family, 136 

John, 169 
Marshall house, 338 
Martyrs' Tomb, Brooklyn, 70, 

Marvin, Walter, 310 
Maryland's Four Hundred, 71 
M'Dougal at White Plains, 300 
McKee, James W., 216 
Meeker, William and family, 152 
Mercer, Gen. Hugh, 120 
Merritt conservatories, 265 
Middlesex and Essex Turnpike, 

Middletown Road, 83, 90 
Milestone, at Scarsdale, 292 
Mill, at Plainfield, 180 
Miller farmhouse. White Plains, 
^ 303 

Monckton, Gen., 115 
Monmouth County, 91 
Montgomery, Gen. Richard, 361 
Moravians, 112 
Morris, Ira K., 103 
Col. Roger, 278 
Turnpike, 189, 194 
Morristown, 196 
Mortar, at White Plains, 301 
Mount family, 86 

inn, of Cornelius, 88 
Mt. Vernon, 306 
Muhlenburgh, Rev., 45 
Murray, Mrs. Lindley, 350 

National Academy of Design, 

Navesink, oo 
Navy Yard, Brooklyn, 76 
Neilson home, 172 
Nepperan River, 274, 275 
Nesbit, Thomas, 179 
"Neutral Ground," 255 
Newark, 139 

roads, 139, 149 

New Brunswick, 171 

roads, 156, 171 
New Dorp, 112 
New Jersey Historical Society, 

New Rochelle, 307 
New Utrecht, 12 
News History, the, 207 
Niblo's Gardens, 364 
Nicolls, Gov., 5 
North Castle, 301 
North White Plains, 302 

Odell home, 281 

Old Blazing Star Landing, 122 

Old Ferry Point, 327 

Olinville, 290 

Oliver, David and son, 169 

Orchard Bay, 338 

Oude Dorp, 107 

Paine, Thomas, 225, 229, 311 
Palisades, New York, 241 

the, 220 
Panton, Rev. George, 280 
Paramus Landing, 237 

City Hall, 362 

Fort Greene, 64, 66 

Hudson, 308 

Joseph Rodman Drake, 324 

Madison Square, 365 

Morningside, 353 

Palisades Interstate, 220 

Prospect, 70 

Putnam's Hill, 319 

Union Square, 365 

Van Cortlandt, 370 
Parker Castle, 135 

James, 135 
Passaic, Falls of the, 13, 212 

River, 208, 232 
voyage, 206 

roads, 207 

town, 208 
Patch, Sam, 216 
Paterson, 212 

roads, 208 

Patterson home, 86 

Paulding farm, 288 

John, 266, 267 
PhiHpR., - 




Pavilion Hill, 102 
Peach War, 108 
Peel, Sir R., 43 
Pelham, 307 
Pell, John, 309, 310 
Perrine family, 113 

homestead, iii 
Perth Amboy, 134 
Pfaff's beer cellar, 364 
Philipse family, Frederick and 

others, 275, 276, 279 
Philipse Manor House, Sleepy 
Hollow, 271 
Yonkers, 276 

Mary, 278, 368 
Picture of New Yorky the, 12, 15 
Pierce, William W., 136 
Pierson, Rev. A., 144, 145 
Pine Robbers, 91 
Pintard house, 310 
Plainfield, 177 

roads, 174, 175 
Planters' Hotel, Staten Island, 


Plume homestead, 147 
Pocantico Creek and bridge, 269 
Poe, Edgar Allan, 370 
Pompton, 217 
Poor, Enoch, 233 
Port Chester, 317 
Porter, Capt. George, 90 
Post, Peter, 253 
Powles Hook, 153 

ferry, 153 
Poyer, Rev. Thomas, 40 
Prime, Nathaniel S., historian, 

merchant prince, 349, 359 
Prince house, 45 
William, 44 
Princeton College, 168 
Provoost, David, 348 
farm, 347 
Samuel, 348 
Putnam, Gen. Israel, 67, 76, 228, 
300, 318, 319, 350, 359, 
Rufus, 369 
Putnam Cottage (museum), 320 

Quarantine, New York, 98 
Queen Anne, 28, 120 

Rahway, 168 
Randolph, J. P., 179] 
Ravenswood, 37 
Richards, Rev. James, 145 
Richbell, John, 294 
Richmond, no, 119 

Road, III 
Ringwood, 217 
Rocnambeau, Gen., 255, 281, 

Rockaway, 13 
Rockefeller, William, 270 
Rodman's Neck, 338 
Roger Morris Mansion, 354, 368 
Rogers, William, 244 
Romer family, 286 
Rose and Crown, 102, 116 
Rosebank, 104 
Ross, Peter, 60 
Rowe, Capt., 370 
Rushmore, Isaac, 7 

Rye, 315 

Salmagundi, 149 
Salter, Edwin, 87 
Sandy Hook, 14, 83 
Satanstoe^ 329, 370 
Sawmill River, 274, 275 

Road, 273 
Saxon, William, 294 
Say re, Ephraim, 196 
Scarsdale, 291 
Schenck house, 56 

Wilhelmina, 56 
Schermerhorn house, 346 
Schuyler, Elizabeth, 199 

Gen. Philip S., 199, 333 
Scott, Gen. Wmfield, 157 
Seabury family, 28 
Shadyside, 234 
Shaw, William H., 192 
Shepard, Mrs. Pinley, 264 
Skinners, 256 
Sleepy Hollow, 268 
Smith, "Caty," 161 

Joshua, 243, 266 

Rev. Thomas, 285 

Col. William S., 345 
Smith's Folly, 345 
Sneden house, 240 

Molly, 239, 240 
Sneden 's Landing, 237 



South Beach,' 109 

South worth, Mrs. E. D. E. N., 

Spangenburg, Bishop, 112 
Split Rock Road, 339 
Spong, Sarah, 55 
Springfield, 189 

Turnpike, 189 
Spyy the, 289, 293, 313 
Staats, Abraham, 185 
Stapleton, 104 
Staten Island, 96 

Association of Arts and 
Sciences, 100 

ferries and roads, 96, 97, 
109, 125, 133 
Stepping Stones, the, 329 
Steuben, Baron, 186, 347 
St. George, 99 
Stirling, Gen., 70, 72 
St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum, 349 
St. Luke's Home for Aged 

Women, 351 
Stoffelson, Jacob, 208 
**Stone House," the "'76," 248 
Stone, WilHam, 7 
Stony Brook, Staten Island, 

115, 119 

Storm, Abraham, 287 
Storm's Bridge, 283 
Storm Ship, the, 259 
Strickland's Plain, 321 
Stuyvesant, Peter, 58 
Sullivan, Gen., 69 
S. U. M., the, 213 
Sunnyside, 257 
Swaine, Capt., and daughter, 144 

Tallmadge, Maj., 244, 268 
Tappan, 241 

Zee, 257, 259 
Tarrytown, 265 
Taylor, E., 83 

family, 86, 88 

S., 83 
Tefft, Carl E., 225 
Thatcher, Dr., 249 
Theaters, old Broadway, 363 
Thompson, Benjamin P., 21, 
23.26,35,46 . , , 

Mrs. (Washmgton's house- 
keeper), 198 

Throckmorton, John, 328 
Throg's Neck, 328 
Tilden, Samuel J., 253 
Times, the New York, 366 
Times Square, 366 
Tippett family, 325 
TodtHill, 114 
Tompkins, Judge Caleb, 293 

D. D., 106, 292 

family, 291 

John, 306 
Tompkinsville, loi 
Totten family, 132 
Tottenville, 124 
Towel, Jeremiah, 346 
Towne, Charles Hanson, 357 
Treat, Robert, 143 
Tuckahoe, 291 

Ulmann, Albert, 356 
Underclifif Settlement, 224 
Underbill, Capt., 321 
Union Hall Academy, 22 
United Brethren, Staten Island, 

Untermyer, Samuel, 253 
Urquhart, F. J., 140, 146 

Van Cortlandt family, 270, 361 

Frederick, 370 

Jacobus, 371 

Mansion, 370 
Van Dam, Rip, 19 
Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 103 

houses, Staten Island, 102, 
103; Flatbush, 54 

Jacobus and Vettje, 112 

mausoleum, 113 

Phoebe, 103 

Rem, 53 

Sarah, 53 

William H., 114 
Vanderbilt's Periauger Ferry, 


Van der Donck, Adrien, 274 
Van Deursen, William, 172 
Vandeveers, G., 49 
Van Duzer's Ferry, loi 
Van Nuise home, 172 
Van Tassel, Cornelius, 282 

family, 286 

Jacob and family, 263 



Van Twiller, Wouter, 81 
Van Wagoner family, 224 

home, 209 
Van Wart, Isaac, 266, 286 

Rachel, 286 
Van Winkle, Cornelius, 216 

ferryman, 19 
Verveelen, Johannes, 6 
Vreeland homestead, 109 
Vulture, the, 243 

Wakefield, 290 
Waldenses, 96, 97, 115, 118 
Wall Street, 356 
Wallabout, 63 
Walloons, 96 
Ward, Josiah, 144 
Ward's Point, 132 
Washington at 

Dobbs' Ferry, 259 

Elmsford, 283 

Fort Lee, 228 

Long Island, 75 

New York, 354, 367 

Passaic, 211 

Plainfield, 182 

Rye, 316 

White Plains, 301 

Yonkers (tradition of ro- 
mance), 278 
Washington Headquarters at 

Hackensack, 232 

Morristown, 196 

Plainfield, 182 

Roger Morris Mansion, 354 

Tappan, 244 

White Plains, 302 
Washington, Martha, 166, 197, 

202, 240 
** Washington Rock," the, Ma- 
maroneck, 314 

Washington's Rock, Plainfield, 

Washington's Well, 226 
Water Witch, 94 
Water Witch, the, 131 
Wayne, Gen., 196 
Weehawken, 218 
Wells, Lemuel, 279 
Westbury, 30 
Westfield, 175 
White, Philip, 93 
White Plains, 295 

courthouse, 295 

Road, 290 
Wick, Tempe, 204 
Wicker's Creek, 256 
Willett family, 325 
William IV., 44 
Williams, David, 266 

Robert, 30 

Roger, 328 
Willis, N. P., 250 
Willock's Lane, house in, 135 
Wilson, James Grant, 8 

Rufus Rockwell, 364 
WolferVs Roost, 257 
Woodbridge, 170, 178 
WoodhuU, Gen. Nathaniel, 24, 

Woodruff, Samuel, 158, 160 
Wright, lighthouse keeper, 90 

Yonkers, 274 

ferry, 220 
York, Duke of, 127, 146 
Youle, tower built by, 344 
Young, Joseph and lamily, 

Zabriskie, Peter, 231, 232 

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l' ■ »" ■ I'' ■■ 1^ ■ 1 ^ ■ 1 ^ ■ 1 ^ (^ 1^ /^ /^ (^ /' ....Ul^^ ' 

Ji Selection from the 
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Historic New York 

Pictures of Social and Political Life in 

New Amsterdam and Early 

New York 

Edited by Maud Wilder Goodwin, Alice 
Carrington Royce, Ruth Putnam, 
Eva Palmer Brownell 
8^. With 62 Illustrations y including Charts 
and Diagrams. $3.50 net. By maily $3.75. 

This volume does not attempt to give any 
connected history of the city, but to present 
authentic accounts of localities of special inter- 
est, and to describe the features pecuUar to the 
life of the olden time in New Amsterdam and 
early New York. It offers, in convenient form 
for ready reference, carefully gleaned informa- 
tion, enlivened by hints of legend and tradition 
which have cast their glamor over Manhattan 
Island; and it has been the aim of the editors 
to make the volume of value to the general 
reader as well as to the students of history. 
The editors have studied not only the standard 
authorities, but have consulted the Dutch 
Archives and have made researches in the 
records of the Historical Societies of the vari- 
ous cities of the State, and have spared no 
labor in their efforts to make their accounts 
thoroughly trustworthy. 

New York G. P, Putnam^S Sons ' London 

The Old Boston 
Post Road 

By Stephen Jenkins 

5°. 200 Illustrations and Maps. $3.50 

The author has chosen for the subject of this 
volume the oldest and most northerly of these 
post roads : that over which the first post-rider 
went; that which echoed to the war-whoop 
of the savage ; that which saw the passage of 
the soldiers to and from the seat of activities 
during the French wars ; that which beheld 
the flocking of the minute-men upon the 
Lexington Alarm ; or the rallying of the militia 
to the standard of Gates ; that which served 
several times for the journeys of Washington, 
and that which later became the pathway of 
countless thousands of emigrants on their way 
to the rich valleys of the Mohawk and the 
Genesee, or to the fertile prairies of the 
Middle West. 

G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York London 

'A book every one should read" 
Ne^w YorK Sun 

The Greatest Street 
in the World 

The Story of Broadway, Old and New, from 
Bowling Green to Albany 

By Stephen Jenkins 

Member Westchester County Historical Society 

I60 Illustrations and six maps. 500 pages 
f5.50 net, {5.75 by mail) 

In this volume Mr. Jenkins has pre- 
sented the whole history of Broadway, 
old and new, through all the miles of 
its long course from Bowling Green 
to Albany; its historic associations 
from pre-Revolutionary times to the 
present, its theatres and the actors that 
made them famous, its literary inci- 
dents and personalities, the busy hum 
of city life that rises heavenward 
between its towering buildings, and all 
the abundant energy that flows through 
it ceaselessly. 

Send for Illustrated Circular 
New York G. P. Putnam's Sons London 

The Story of 

The Bronx 

From the Purchase made by the Dutch from 
the Indians in 1639 to the Present Day 

By Stephen Jenkins 

Member of Westchester County Historical Society, Author of 
"The Greatest Street in the World — Broadway" 

110 Illustrations and Maps. $3.50 net 
By mail, $3.75 

The romantic history of the northern section of Greater 
New York from the days of Jonas Bronck, after whom The 
Bronx was named, through the centuries crowded with 
events that have issued into the present. The picturesque 
days of the Dutch regime in New Amsterdam, the occupa- 
tion of the country in the name of the Duke of York and 
its history as a royal province, the fighting era of the 
Revolution, and the period of development that has since 
then been gaining velocity are told of, not with reference 
to Manhattan, which has had historians aplenty, but 
with reference to The Bronx, about which there has 
hitherto existed no properly unified work of history. 
The geographical landmarks acquire a new significance as 
around them this accurate historian of local events and 
conditions weaves the substantial fabric of fact and more 
sparingly the lighter web of tradition. It is a book in 
which the narrative of history is pleasantly diversified by 
accounts of all that has gone to enrich life and to add to 
the dignity of the territor> '>day embraced in the 
Borough of The Bronx. 

6. P. Putnam's Sons 
New York London 

To renew the (harge, book must be brought to the desk. 


Form 7079a 6-52 5M 



3 90 

5 03869 8786 




Cowtfick, Sarah 

Old rqads from the 
heart of New York