Chapter 11

"Upon one of these hills, rising out of this mountain pass-way, very distinct lines of earthworks are yet apparent. Near the residence of Mr. Sidney E. Van Wyck, by the large black-walnut trees, and east of the road near the base of the mountain, was the soldiers' burial ground. Many a poor patriot soldier's bones lie mouldering there; and if we did but know how many, we would be startled at the number, for this almost unknown and unnoticed burial ground holds not a few, but hundreds of those who gave their lives for the cause of American independence. Some fifteen years ago, an old lady who had lived near the village until after she had grown to womanhood, told the writer that after the battle of White Plains she went with her father through the streets of Fishkill, and in places between the Dutch and Episcopal churches, the dead were piled up like cord-wood. Those who died from wounds in battle or from sickness in hospital were buried there. Many of these were State militiamen, and it seems no more than just that the State should make an appropriation to erect a suitable monument over this spot. Rather than thus remain for another century, if a rough granite boulder were rolled down from the mountain side and inscribed: 'To the unknown and unnumbered dead of the American Revolution,' that rough unhewn stone would tell to the stranger and the passer-by, more to the praise and fame of our native town than any of us shall be able to add to it by works of our own; for it is doubtful whether any spot in the State has as many of the buried dead of the Revolution as this quiet burial yard in our old town!" Here also on June 2, 1883, was observed "The Fishkill Centennial," and few of our centennials have been celebrated amid objects of greater revolutionary interest. Near at hand, to quote from the official report of the proceedings, is "Denning's Point where Washington frequently, while waiting, tied his horses under those magnificent 'Washington oaks,' as he passed backward and forward from New Windsor and Newburgh to Fishkill. Near by is the Verplanck House, Baron Steuben's old headquarters. On Spy Hill and Continental Hill troops were quartered. At Matteawan Sackett lived, and there is the Teller House built by Madame Brett, where officers frequently resorted, and there Yates dwelt when he presided over the legislative body while it held its sessions in Fishkill, that had much to do with forming our first State Constitution. Baron Steuben was for a while in the old Scofield House at Glenham. In Fishkill are those renowned old churches where legislative sittings were held, which were also used as hospitals for the sick, and one of which is otherwise known as being the place where Enoch Crosby, the spy, was imprisoned, and from which he escaped. Near at hand the Wharton House (Van Wyck House), forever associated with him, and made famous by Cooper's 'Spy.' In the Brinckerhoff House above, Lafayette was dangerously ill with a fever, and there, at Swartwoutville, Washington was often a visitor. Whenever Washington was at Fishkill he made Colonel Brinckerhoff's his headquarters. He occupied the bedroom back of the parlor, which remains the same 'excepting a door that opens into the hall, which has been cut through.' It is an old-fashioned house built of stone, with the date 1738 on one of its gables." With the story of Fishkill we close the largest page relating to our revolutionary heroes, and leave behind us the Old Beacon Mountains which forever sentinel and proclaim their glory.

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No prouder sentinel of glory than the old Beacon Mountain whose watch-fire guarded the valley and spoke its rallying message to the Catskills and Berkshires and the very foothills of the Green Mountains.

_Wallace Bruce._

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The sun touched mountains in some places were of a bright orange and the shadows between them deep neutral tint or blue. And the river apparently had stopped running to reflect.

_Susan Warner._

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=Low Point=, or Carthage, is a small village on the east bank, about four miles north of Fishkill. It was called by the early inhabitants Low Point, as New Hamburgh, two miles north, was called High Point. Opposite Carthage is Roseton, once known as Middlehope, and above this we see the residence of Bancroft Davis and the Armstrong Mansion. We now behold on the west bank a large flat rock, covered with cedars, recently marked by a lighthouse, the--

=Duyvel's Dans Kammer.=--Here Hendrick Hudson, in his voyage up the river, witnessed an Indian pow-wow--the first recorded fireworks in a country which has since delighted in rockets and pyrotechnic displays. Here, too, in later years, tradition relates the sad fate of a wedding party. It seems that a Mr. Hans Hansen and a Miss Kathrina Van Voorman, with a few friends, were returning from Albany, and disregarding the old Indian prophecy, were all slain:--

"For none that visit the Indian's den Return again to the haunts of men. The knife is their doom! O sad is their lot! Beware, beware of the blood-stained spot!"

Some years ago this spot was also searched for the buried treasures of Captain Kidd, and we know of one river pilot who still dreams semi-yearly of there finding countless chests of gold.

Two miles above, on the east side, we pass New Hamburgh, at the mouth of =Wappingers Creek=. The name Wappinger had its origin from Wabun, east, and Acki, land. This tribe, a sub-tribe of the Mahicans, held the east bank of the river, from Manhattan to Roeliffe Jansen's Creek, which empties into the Hudson near Livingston, a few miles south of Catskill Station on the _Hudson River Railroad_. Passing Hampton Point we see Marlborough, the head-centre of a large fruit industry, delightfully located in the sheltered pass of the Maunekill. On the east bank will be noticed several fine residences: "Uplands," "High Cliff," "Cedars," and "Netherwood." Milton is now at hand on the west bank, with its cosy landing and _West Shore Railroad_ station. This pleasant village was one of the loved spots of J. G. Holland, and the home of Mary Hallock Foote, until a modern "Hiawatha" took our Hudson "Minnehaha" to far away western mountains.

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The tulip tree majestic stirs Far down the water's marge beside, And now awake the nearer firs, And toss their ample branches wide.

_Henry T. Tuckerman._

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=Springbrook=, opposite Milton, a place of historic interest, near the river bank, was bought by Theophilus Anthony before the Revolution. Some of the links of the famous chain in the Highlands were forged here in 1777. When the British ships ascended the river the family fled to the woods, all but an old colored servant woman who wisely furnished the soldiers a good dinner and got thereby their good will to save the house. The old Flour Mill, however, was burned which stood on the same site as the present Springbrook Mill. Theophilus Anthony's only daughter married Thomas Gill after the Revolution, and from that time the property has been in the Gill family. Few places in the Hudson Valley have such ancient and continuous family history.

=Locust Grove=, with square central tower and open outlook, residence of the late Prof. S. F. B. Morse, inventor of the telegraph, is seen on the west bank; also the "Lookout," once known as Mine Hill, now a part of Poughkeepsie cemetery, with charming driveway to the wooded point where the visitor can see from his carriage one of the finest views of the Hudson. The completion of this drive is largely due to the enterprise of the late Mr. George Corlies, who did much to make Poughkeepsie beautiful. The view from this "Lookout" takes in the river for ten miles to the south, and reaches on the north to the Catskills. In a ramble with Mr. Corlies over Lookout Point, he told the writer that it was originally the purpose of Matthew Vassar to erect a monument on Pollopel's Island to Hendrick Hudson. Mr. Corlies suggested this point as the most commanding site. Mr. Vassar visited it, and concluded to place the monument here. He published an article in the Poughkeepsie papers to this effect, and, meeting Mr. Corlies one week afterwards, said, "Not one person in the city of Poughkeepsie has referred to my monument. I have decided to build a college for women, where they can learn what is useful, practical and sensible." It is interesting to note the fountain-idea of the first woman's college in the world, as it took form and shape in the mind of its founder.

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And from their leaguering legions thick and vast The galling hail-shot in fierce volley falls, While quick, from cloud to cloud, darts o'er the levin The flash that fires the batteries of heaven!

_Knickerbocker Magazine._

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We now see =Blue Point=, on the west bank; and, in every direction, enjoy the finest views. The scenery seems to stand, in character, between the sublimity of the Highlands and the tranquil, dreamy repose of the Tappan Zee. It is said that under the shadow of these hills was the favorite anchorage of--

=The Storm Ship=, one of our oldest and most reliable legends. The story runs somewhat as follows: Years ago, when New York was a village--a mere cluster of houses on the point now known as the Battery--when the Bowery was the farm of Peter Stuyvesant, and the Old Dutch Church on Nassau Street (which also long since disappeared), was considered the country--when communication with the old world was semi-yearly instead of semi-weekly or daily--say two hundred years ago--the whole town one evening was put into great commotion by the fact that a ship was coming up the bay.

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See you beneath yon sky so dark Fast gliding along a gloomy bark:-- By skeleton shapes her sails are furled, And the hand that steers is not of this world.

_Legend of the Storm Ship._

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She approached the Battery within hailing distance, and then, sailing against both wind and tide, turned aside and passed up the Hudson. Week after week and month after month elapsed, but she never returned; and whenever a storm came down on Haverstraw Bay or Tappan Zee, it is said that she could be seen careening over the waste; and, in the midst of the turmoil, you could hear the captain giving orders, in _good Low Dutch_; but when the weather was pleasant, her favorite anchorage was among the shadows of the picturesque hills, on the eastern bank, a few miles above the Highlands. It was thought by some to be Hendrick Hudson and his crew of the "Half Moon," who, it was well known, had once run aground in the upper part of the river, seeking a northwest passage to China; and people who live in this vicinity still insist that under the calm harvest moon and the pleasant nights of September, they see her under the bluff of Blue Point, all in deep shadow, save her topsails glittering in the moonlight.

=Poughkeepsie=, 74 miles from New York, is now at hand, Queen City of the Hudson, with name, derived from the Indian word Apokeepsing, signifying "safe harbor." Near the landing a bold headland juts out into the river, known as Kaal Rock, and no doubt this sheltering rock was a safe harbor in days of birch canoes. It has been recently claimed that the word signifies "muddy pond," which is neither true, appropriate or poetic. Poughkeepsie does not propose to give up her old-time "harbor name," particularly as it has been recently discovered that the name "Kipsie" was also given by the Indians to a "safe harbor" near the Battery on Manhattan Island. It is said that there are over forty different ways of spelling Poughkeepsie, and every year the postoffice record gives a new one. The first house was built in 1702 by a Mr. Van Kleeck. The State legislature had a session here in 1777 or 1778, when New York was held by the British and after Kingston had been burned by Vaughan.

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On the crest of the waves, a something that glides Before the stiff breeze, and gracefully rides On the inflowing tide majestic and free A huge and mysterious bird of the sea.

_Irving Bruce._

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Ten years later, the State convention also met here for ratification of the Federal Constitution. The town has a beautiful location, and is justly regarded the finest residence city on the river. It is not only midway between New York and Albany, but also midway between the Highlands and the Catskills, commanding a view of the mountain portals on the south and the mountain overlook on the north--the Gibraltar of revolutionary fame and the dreamland of Rip Van Winkle.

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The azure heaven is filled with smiles, The water lisping at my feet From weary thought my heart beguiles.

_Henry Abbey._

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The well known poet and _litterateur_, Joel Benton, who divides his residence between New York and Poughkeepsie, in a recent article, "The Midway City of the Hudson," written for the _Poughkeepsie Sunday Courier_, says:

"Poughkeepsie as a township was incorporated in 1788. The village bearing the name was formed in 1799 (incorporated as a city in 1854), and soon became the center of a large trade running in long lines east and west from the river. Dutchess County had at this time but a sparse population. There was a post-road from New York to Albany; but the building of the Dutchess Turnpike from Poughkeepsie to Sharon, Conn., connecting with one from that place to Litchfield, which took place in 1808, was a capital event in its history. This made a considerable strip of western Connecticut tributary to Poughkeepsie's trade.

"Over the turnpike went four-horse Concord stages, with berailed top and slanting boot in the rear for trunks and other baggage. Each one had the tin horn of the driver; and it was difficult to tell upon which the driver most prided himself--the power to fill that thrilling instrument, or his deft handling of the ponderous whip and multiplied reins. Travelers to Hartford and Boston went over this route; and an east and west through and way mail was a part of the burden. A sort of overland express and freight line, styled the Market Wagon, ran in and out of the town from several directions. One or more of these conveyances started from as far east as the Housatonic River, and they frequently crowded passengers in amongst their motley wares.

"Speaking of the stage-driver's horn recalls the fact that when the steamboat arrived--which was so solitary an institution that for some time it was distinctly called 'The Steamboat'--the tin horn did duty also for it. When it was seen in the distance, either Albanyward or in the New York direction, a boy went through the village blowing a horn to arouse those who wished to embark on it. It is said the expectant passengers had ample time, after the horn was sounded, to make their toilets, run down to the river (or walk down) and take passage on it.

"In colonial days few were the people here; but they were a bright and stirring handful. It seems as if every man counted as ten. The De's and the Vans, the Livingstons, the Schuylers, the Montgomerys and ever so many more of the Hudson River Valley settlers are still making their impress upon the country. I suppose it need not now be counted strange that the strong mixture of Dutch and English settlers, with a few Huguenots, which finally made Dutchess county, were not a little divided between Tory and Whig inclinations. Around Poughkeepsie, and in its allied towns stretching between the Hudson River and the Connecticut line, there was much strife. Gov. George Clinton in his day ruled in the midst of much tumult and turbulence; but he held the reins with vigor, in spite of kidnappers or critics. When the British burned Kingston he prorogued the legislature to Poughkeepsie, which still served as a 'safe harbor.' As the resolution progressed the Tory faction was weakened, either by suppression or surrender.

"It was in the Poughkeepsie Court House that, by _one_ vote, after a Homeric battle, the colony of New York consented to become a part of the American republic, which consent was practically necessary to its existence.

"How large a part two small incidents played here towards the result of nationality. That single vote was one, and the news by express from Richmond, announcing Virginia's previous ratification--and added stimulus to the vote--was the other. Poughkeepsie honored in May, 1824, the arrival of Lafayette, and dined him, besides exchanging speeches with him, both at the Forbus House, on Market Street, very nearly where the Nelson House now stands, and at the Poughkeepsie Hotel. It was one of Poughkeepsie's great days when he came. Daniel Webster has spoken in her court house; and Henry Clay, in 1844, when a presidential candidate, stopped for a reception. And it is said that, by a mere accident, she just missed contributing a name to the list of presidents of the United States. The omitted candidate was Nathaniel P. Talmadge. He could have had the vice-presidential candidacy, the story goes, in 1840, but would not take it. If he had accepted it, he would have gone into history not merely as United States senator from New York and afterwards Governor of Wisconsin territory, but as president in John Tyler's place.

"In 1844, the New York State Fair was held here somewhere east of what is now Hooker Avenue. It was an occasion thought important enough then to be pictured and reported in the London _Illustrated News_. Two years after the telegraph wires were put up in this city, before they had yet reached the city of New York. Considering the fact that Prof. S. F. B. Morse, the telegraph inventor, had his residence here, this incident was not wholly inappropriate.

"The advent in 1849 of the _Hudson River Railroad_, which was an enterprise in its day of startling courage and magnitude, constituted a special epoch in the history of Poughkeepsie and the Hudson River towns. Men of middle age here well remember the hostility and ridicule the project occasioned when it was first broached. Some said no railroad ever _could_ be built on the river's edge; and, if you should build one, the enormous expense incurred would make it forever unprofitable. It seemed then the height of Quixotism to lay an expensive track where the river offered a free way to all. Property holders, whose property was to be greatly benefited, fought the railroad company with unusual spirit and persistence. But the railroad came, nevertheless, and needs no advocate or apologist to-day. There is no one now living here who would ask its removal, any more than he would ask the removal of the Hudson River itself."

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And lo! the Catskills print the distant sky, And o'er their airy tops the faint clouds driven, So softly blending, that the cheated eye Forgets or which is earth or which is heaven.

_Theodore S. Fay_.

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Mountains on mountains in the distance rise, Like clouds along the far horizon's verge; Their misty summits mingling with the skies, Till earth and heaven seem blended into one.

_Bayard Taylor._

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Poughkeepsie has been known for more than half a century as the City of Schools. The Parthenon-like structure which crowns College Hill was prophetic of a still grander and more widely known institution, the first in the world devoted to higher culture for women,--

=Vassar College.=--This institution, founded by Matthew Vassar, and situated two miles east of the city, maintains its prestige not only as the first woman's college in point of time, but also first in excellence and influence. The grounds are beautiful and graced by noble buildings which have been erected year by year to meet the continued demands of its patrons. The college is not seen from the river but is of easy access by trolley from the steamboat landing.

=Eastman College= is also one of the fixed and solid institutions of Poughkeepsie, located in the very heart of the city. It has accomplished good work in preparing young men for business, and has made Poughkeepsie a familiar word in every household throughout the land. It was fortunate for the city that the energetic founder of this college selected the central point of the Hudson as the place of all others most suited for his enterprise, and equally fortunate for the thousands of young men who yearly graduate from this institution, as the city is charmingly located and set like a picture amid picturesque scenery.

Among many successful public institutions of Poughkeepsie are the Vassar Hospital, the Vassar Old Men's Home, the Old Ladies' Home, the State Hospital and the Vassar Institute of Arts and Sciences.

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I went three times up the Hudson; and if I lived in New York should be tempted to ascend it three times a week during the summer.

_Harriet Martineau._

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The opera house is one of the pleasantest in the country and received a high comment, still remembered, from Joseph Jefferson, for its perfect acoustic quality. The armory, the Adriance Memorial Library to the memory of Mr. and Mrs. John P. Adriance, and the historic Clinton House on Main Street purchased in 1898 by the Daughters of the Revolution, also claim the attention of the visitor. Several factories are here located, the best known being that of Adriance, Platt & Co., whose Buckeye mowers and reapers have been awarded the highest honors in Germany, Holland, France, Belgium, Sweden, Norway, Italy, Russia, Switzerland, and the United States, and are sold in every part of the civilized globe. The Phoenix Horseshoe Co., the Knitting-Goods Establishment, and various shoe, shirt and silk thread factories contribute to the material prosperity of the town. The drives about Poughkeepsie are delightful. Perhaps the best known in the United States is the Hyde Park road, six miles in extent, with many palatial homes and charming pictures of park and river scenery. This is a part of the Old Post Road and reminds one by its perfect finish of the roadways of England. Returning one can take a road to the left leading by and up to

=College Hill=, 365 feet in height, commanding a wide and extensive prospect. The city lies below us, fully embowered as in a wooded park. To the east the vision extends to the mountain boundaries of Dutchess County, and to the north we have a view of the Catskills marshalled as we have seen them a thousand times in sunset beauty along the horizon. This property, once owned by Senator Morgan and his heirs, was happily purchased by William Smith of Poughkeepsie, and given to the city as a public park. There is great opportunity here to make this a thing of beauty and a joy forever, for there are few views on the Hudson, and none from any hill of its height, that surpass it in extent and variety. The city reservoir lies to the north, about one hundred feet down the slope of College Hill.

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My heart is on the hills. The shades Of night are on my brow; Ye pleasant haunts and quiet glades, My soul is with you now!

_Robert C. Sands._

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