USA > New Jersey > Morris County > History of Morris County, New Jersey > Part 71
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" They that swear, the same will lie; Them I'll not carry, if I die."
And immediately Fitz disappeared beneath the stream. But, confirmed in the propriety of never taking an oath, he came up a pure cold water man, the fool was kept sober, and the wise townsmen of Randolph learned never to trust themselves on the shoulders of another man while they had legs of their own.
First Meeting-House and Graveyard. Washington and Little Rhoda .- We have already seen that the earliest settlers in this township were members of the Society of Friends. This plain and quiet people differ from other religious denominations in most things, having no min- istry, no sacraments and no ordinances; yet they early erected a house of worship. With the exception of a consecrated part of the forest, where the red men once invoked the aid of the Great Spirit, the Quaker meeting- house was for more than a century the only place where the people were accustomed to assemble for worship. This plain old sanctuary stood just in the rear of the site of the residence of Daniel Lampson, and the adjoining land, now an orchard, was then a graveyard. In this first graveyard of Randolph were buried the remains of those who had left milder climes and warm friends in the old world, contented with a wilderness if they could be un- molested in their faith and could secure to their de- scendants a quiet home. No costly monument ever adorned this cemetery, no humble stone ever distin- guished one sleeper's cell from another. In perfect sim- ilarity they were laid side by side, illustrating in the grave the doctrine of human equality which they pro-
fessed when living. The little mounds first thrown up when the graves were fresh were in time reduced to a common level; and the plain meeting-house was never repaired. A new one, however, was erected about a mile west of the old site, the frame of which still remains, though now six score years old. A touching incident associated with this graveyard, and which brings to light an event which makes our township classic ground, may here be related:
In the residence situated only a few feet from the meeting-house lived Rhoda Lampson, who in 1857 de- parted this life, in the 94th year of her age. During the Revolutionary war, while our ariny was encamped at Morristown, General Washington rode up with a small company of horsemen into this vicinity, and pitched his tent in the field just opposite her dwelling. Little Rhoda The child was beautiful to look upon, and her beauty was visible even in her latest years. Decked in her best at- tire, which was simple, yet becoming, she was sent with a basket of fruit to the tent of the general. Washington met her with a smile, thankfully accepted her offering in his own sweet manner, and then, taking her by the hand as he bade her good-bye, said: " My daughter, in these times it is not safe for one so fair to venture far from mother's roof." The words were to her a mystery, yet they made an indelible impression on her mind, and no doubt exerted a direct influence in shaping her social destiny. Rhoda was strong in her affections, but her affections clung to the members of the family, and were henceforth fixed on her home.
Her fair form and fairer countenance had produced peculiar emotions in several hearts, but there was one youth, who wore a broad brimmed hat and a drab col- ored coat, in whose presence her own heart had been known to flutter; and she would have loved him but for the strong love she had for her brother. Apprehensive that her friend might have designs of separating her from her family, in the ardor of a sister's love she pro- posed to her brother that they should live together as long as they both lived. The vow was mutually made, and made never to be broken. The Quaker, strong in his wish but tardy in expressing it, at length overcame his indescribable embarassment, and disclosed all that was in his heart; when to his dismay the sister's vow was re- vealed. This revelation broke the spring of his hopes. He endeavored to estimate the brother's constitution and the probable number of his days, but the prospect was so unfavorable that his heart sunk in despair. His ruddy cheek grew pale, his robust frame grew thin, and when near his end he made a dying request to be buried not in the new but the old graveyard, beside the dwelling of her he loved. The request was granted, and his grave was among the many honored graves in the first burying ground in the township. The brother and sister survived their parents, and for forty years after the sister kept house for the brother. The sister also lived a score of years after the brother's death. As she had made another's home comfortable, so now others made her a
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HISTORY OF MORRIS COUNTY.
comfortable home; every want was supplied and every kind attention bestowed, and when in good old age she was gathered to her people she was, according to her wish, buried in the old Rockaway church yard in a grave by the side of her brother.
Andrew King and Stephen Hamilton .-- One of the first dwelling houses erected in our township stood very near the present residence of Dr. Condict. Built in the prim- itive forest, its style of architecture was primitive, which may have been owing more to the absence of proper tools than to any want of mechanical skill. In external splen- dor it did not equal the old Quaker meeting-house, which still remains as a relic of by-gone generations. But if the outside was rude, it had yet a comfortable inside, with happy inmates. For a period longer than the mnem- ory of the living runs to the contrary, this cabin was oc- cupied by the family of Andrew King. Both husband and wife lived to a good old age, and were on the last half score of years which would have completed their century when they were gathered to their fathers.
During the French war, in which the colonies of France and England were sadly involved, a New Jersey regiment had on its roll the names of at least two citizens of this vicinity; these were Stephen Hamilton and Andrew King. The battle field in those days was as far in the north as it has lately been in the south. Though the means of transportation were limited and the roads difficult, yet the patriots of the State succeeded in joining the main army long before it reached the place of action. The point to be attacked was Fort Ticonderoga, the great northern stronghold in those days. Our worthy young townsman King, who was only 19, who had first mourned and avenged the death of lord Howe, his commander in the fruitless assault on that fortress, and next had seen his comrade and fellow townsman Hamilton perish in at- tempting to storm the fort, finally with the rest crept cautiously homeward, consoling himself with the reflec- tion-
"He that fights and runs away May live to fight another day ; While he that is in battle slain Can never live to fight again."
King received an honorable discharge and returned home to enjoy the heroic reputation he so justly won. And often of a winter evening by the blazing hearth would he to wondering ears describe the daring feats, narrow escapes, and fearful sufferings of that summer campaign of 1758. And by the soldier's story the fires of patriotism were kindled in other hearts, and other souls were set burning for military service and military glory. Hence, a few years later, when the Declaration of Independence was adopted, and the colonies re- nounced allegiance to the mother country, the exper- ienced veterans of the French war were the first to un- sheath the sword, and were prepared to lead the enthu- siastic volunteers to victory and fame.
Stephen Hamilton, who with 2,000 comrades fell in the unsuccessful effort to take Ticonderoga, claimed to be a grandson of Alexander Hamilton, the royal gov- ernor of New Jersey in the time of Queen Anne. Silas
Hamilton, grandson to Stephen, and well known to many who may read this article, died in February 1869, at the age of 89 years. In his youth he was a close observer of nature, and being connected with several forges in this vicinity he was well acquainted with the streams by which they were operated. From the appearance of the rocks and land, then evident but since greatly changed, he satisfied himself that there was once a lake bounded |on the west by the hill near Jacob Hurd's and extending by Washington forge, and then around and beyond the Allen mine, confined on the east near Dover by the mountain, then closed but now opened for the passage of the Rockaway River. He could remember when that opening, which he regarded as the outlet of the lake, was not fifteen feet wide; though now it is several hundred feet wide.
In his youth there was at the foot of Lake Hopatcong a forge with four fires. Near by there was, he said, a stone walk or causeway from an island to the shore, a distance of a quarter of a mile. It was believed to have been made by the Indians and was a work of great labor. While connected with the forge Silas saw squaws with papooses on their backs cross the lake on this causeway. At that time the walk was nearly on a level with the lake, but since the Morris Canal has been opened the lake has been raised several feet, destroying the water power of the forge, and making the causeway invisible.
Patriotism and Rum .- Within the limits of our town- ship (though long before the name of Randolph was given to these limits), and not far from its southern borders, lived Oliver Crome, who became somewhat distinguished for the aid he rendered to the suffering soldiers of the Revolution during the encampment of the army in this county. Never did philanthropist enjoy a more favora- ble opportunity of performing humane deeds. It was in the winter of 1779-80. General Washington was at Morristown and his force was encamped on the hill back of the court-house, the encampment stretching several miles into the country toward Mendham. Poorly housed, poorly clothed and poorly fed, the snow deep and the weather cold, the soldiers endured severe hard- ships. Sometimes a whole week passed and the soldiers received no bread, and then another week and they re- ceived no meat. On two occasions they were without either bread or meat for two days. The table of the commander-in-chief was not much better supplied. Said the housekeeper of General Washington, Mrs. Thomp- son, "We have nothing but the rations to cook." " Well, Mrs. Thompson, you must cook the rations, for I have not a farthing to give you."
At this time Oliver Crome obtained the gratitude of the soldiers by his attention to their sufferings and the appropriation of the products of his farm. He became known to Mrs. Thompson, who through him obtained supplies for the general's table.
At one time Mrs. Thompson obtained permission to draw six bushels of salt from the store-house, pretending that it was to preserve the fresh meat. Most of this salt went into the hands of Oliver Crome, who distrib-
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A TRAGEDY OF OLD RANDOLPH.
uted it among his neighbors, in exchange for poultry, veg- etables and the like. Salt was an article so difficult to the boy might have done on the former occasion. Soon be obtained by the farmers that Oliver became as popu- lar among them as he was among the soldiers, and the work, which he began from patriotic and philanthropic motives, became a profitable business. Oliver, untiring in his efforts to bring something palatable to the camp, was always well received by every officer, and especially by the hostess at headquarters. To dissipate the gloom and relieve the mind from the tedium of the winter a ball was got up, and to this entertainment Oliver Crome was invited, by a complimentary ticket. He had heretofore been amiable in disposition and temperate in all things. But here for the first time he indulged too freely in the wine cup.
The war passed away and left Oliver a richer man, in good repute; but it was whispered about that the habit of excessive indulgence in strong drink was growing on him. Naturally genial, the tendency of his beverage was to increase his geniality to the neglect of his duties. Time was undervalued, he was less industrious, and his estate ran down.
ty made mention of what had been done as proof of what
after a still heavier task was given to the lad, accompan- ied by severe menaces if he failed. The boy began early and in earnest, but when noon came and one-third was not done his heart sunk within him. At dinner he said to his mother, "I cannot get my work done, and what shall I do?" She, afraid to interfere, lest she should inake matters worse, said, "I hope you will be able to finish it." Mary, his little sister, said: "Frank, when I get my work done I will come and help you; " and, true to her word, about 5 o'clock she made her appearance in the field. But her light and cheerful spirits seemed to make the load on the heart of her brother, already in- supportable, still heavier, for he had resolved what to do. So, sending Mary home with the cows, he said as they parted: "Mary, you may never see me again; if you do not, be a good girl, and may your life be happier than mine has been." The tone and look made an indelible impression, for little Mary is still living, though advanced in years and in another part of the country, and retains a vivid recollection of that hour. When she came to the house her father drove up, and she said to him, "Fa- ther, Frank has not got his work done, but has tried hard." The horse was put into the stable and the father went in to supper, after which, with whip in hand, he went down into the field. Not seeing the boy, he called, but received no answer. He searched field and barn and house without success. Irritated by disappointment, he resolved to inflict severer punishment when the lad did appear. But the night passed and morning came, and no news of Frank; noon arrived and no information. The afternoon passed and the sun was setting in a cloudless sky; the trees threw their long shadows to the east; the birds were singing their evening song, when the father thought he saw his son in the orchard hiding behind the farthest tree. Moving cautiously toward the spot unob- served, full of rage at the boy, he suddenly sprang for- ward, and there George Hudson stood before the lifeless body of his son, which was swinging in the air. Poor Frank, the victim of paternal wrath, denied natural sym- pathy, with no prospect of deliverance from his condi- tion, lost all hope, and giving way to despair sought, by this suicidal act, to put an end to his toils and fears. The neighbors attributed this painful tragedy to the un- natural disposition of the father; and the father attribu- ted his unnatural disposition to the influence of strong drink, and traced his appetite for this beverage to his ad- miration of Oliver Crome, with whom he formed the habit. Oliver attributed his downfall to the same ac- cursed beverage, and traced the formation of his evil habit to his admiration of those military officers whose example he imitated. The curse pronounced on those who tarry long at the wine fell heavily on Oliver Crome, and more heavily on his son-in-law, George Hudson, and most heavily on his innocent grandson Frank.
But this was not the worst. A young man, whose real name we cannot give, for reasons that may be inferred from the sequel, but whom we will call George Hudson, was an admirer of Oliver and became something of a fa- vorite at his house. The first thing he learned was to drink freely. And this he excused or justified by the ex- ample of his friend, and Oliver could never exercise cour- age enough to caution him against excess, but continued to furnish the beverage as long as George would drink. George in time married the daughter of Oliver Crome. Mr. Hudson was naturally exacting, and when under the influence of ardent spirits he was over-exacting. The consequence of this was soon felt in his own family. The farm on which George Hudson lived required more atten- tion than he bestowed on it, and it in consequence rather grew worse. He had a son named Frank, who had been brought up on this farm and been accustomed to do much of the work. As the lad grew the father looked to him to perform an amount of labor beyond his strength, and became altogether unreasonable in his demands. When especially stimulated by whiskey his exactions were cruel. One day, on leaving home, the father required his son to finish a certain amount in a cornfield before his return, threatening severe punishment if he failed. The boy, who was in his fourteenth year, worked faith- fully and unceasingly, but his task was not accomplished. The father returned in a state of partial inebriation, and, enraged that his threats had no effect, inhumanly fulfilled all that he had threatened. Poor Frank's very heart was broken and he never smiled afterward. . Another task beyond his ability was soon given him. But this time the father did not return till midnight, and Frank by working long in the evening was enabled to accomplish it. Over-tired, but free from fear of paternal wrath, his rest that night was sweet, expecting a word of commend- General Winds and the Landlord .- Among the ancient worthies of the old Randolph, we must not omit to men- ation in the morning. But this expectation was sadly disappointed, for the father in justification of his own cruel- | tion the name of the distinguished William Winds. This
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HISTORY OF MORRIS COUNTY.
eminent citizen and patriot was remarkable for his great physical strength, his more powerful voice, and the useful service he rendered his country. About 1750 he pur- chased a district of land, a part of which is now occupied by Robert and Thomas Oram. His residence was on the road to Rockaway, and almost on the eastern boundary of our present corporate limits. He passed through the ranks of captain, major, colonel and general, each of which offices he filled with honor. In 1758 he received lord, informed him that he must go. This chivalrous soul, a royal commission from England to serve as captain of a Jersey company. He was under General Abercrombie in the famous attack on Ticonderoga. He distinguished himself in this campaign, taking several French prisoners, some of whom he brought home with him, who settled in this vicinity; one named Cubbey lived in the captain's family for many years. Shortly after this campaign he was appointed the king's justice of the peace. "But about this time the revolutionary spirit was spreading through the colonies, and nowhere did it find a more genial hab- itation than in the big heart of the new judge. The of- fensive stamp act, passed in 1765, which required stamped paper to be used in all legal documents, was practically ignored by this powerful officer of the king. Having oc- casion to issue several writs, he made use of the bark of the white birch. Yet such was the undisputed authority of this magistrate that no one dared to dispute the legal ity of his orders, though the bark was known to be used in defiance of law. Ifis interest in American affairs daily increased, and when the war for independence began he was among the most zealous of the Revolutionary patri- ots. A member of the Presbyterian church of Rockaway, he habitually took an active part in the services. Pos- sessed of a gigantic frame and voice like thunder, when he joined in the singing he did it with such force that like a hero in an engagement, as he always was, he bore off victoriously the music of the assembly. He often led in prayer, and when praying for other objects kept his voice within proper bounds; but when he came to pray for the country it was like the voice of many waters, and he prayed as if he would take heaven by violence.
In 1775 he received from the Continental Congress the commission of lieutenant-colonel. He was stationed at Perth Amboy, and was ordered to secure the person of Governor Franklin, the last of the royal governors of New Jersey. He wrote to Governor Franklin that he had heard he intended to leave the province, and forbade his doing so.
The next year he was made colonel, and in 1777 he was commissioned brigadier-general. He was sent north on the expedition against Canada, and was among the few that survived that disastrous campaign. He was afterward in several engagements in this State. At one time he was on the right bank of the Hackensack River, while the enemy lay at some distance on the opposite side. It was here he frightened off a detachment of mil- itia by his voice. Addressing his men in a stentorian tone, so as to make the enemy hear, he shouted, " Open to the right and left and let the artillery through! " The foe suddenly disappeared.
It was in this period that an incident occurred that tar- nished for a moment the escutcheon of our township's glory. The news spread that the British were invading North Jersey, and all the available force in Morris county was called out. Beman, the brother-in-law of General Winds, was the keeper of the hotel of Dover. Officers were sent to take every person over 18 years of age that they could find. One of these officers, meeting the land- pale and trembling, replied, " You must be careful what you say or do to me, for I married the general's sister." But he evasively promised that he would go, if he must, in the morning. He was allowed to spend the night at home. In the morning he was missing. Search was made, and report said that he had been seen crawling into a hollow tree on the hill north of the village, near what is now Woodland Lake. The searchers were soon on the spot, when one, standing at the end of the tree, called to his comrade, " There is a bear in this hollow; fire in." Instantly came a groan, less terrific than the growl of a cub, followed by the exclamation: "Don't shoot me, don't shoot me ! I will come out." And, true to the promise, out came the husband of the general's sister. A sudden change came over him, for he stood up full of courage and gratitude; grateful for his narrow escape, for he considered that he had been raised from his coffin, and courageous, for he was now assured that there was less danger in confronting the foe than in deserting his friends. He marched off fearlessly, and returned safely and with honor.
Not another instance is on record of a timid Randol- phian during all that long and severe struggle, unless im- portance is to be given to a vague rumor concerning the general himself. For when this intrepid commander, in obedience to orders from General Washington, was lead- ing his forces from New Brunswick to Sandy Hook, to intercept the baggage train of the enemy, and in case of their defeat at Monmouth to cut off their retreat, coming to Spotswood he stopped to repair the bridges which had been destroyed. Here a false report reached him that the enemy was marching on Elizabeth. This report is said to have been brought to him by a Quaker, whose face was as innocent as an angel's. The general on his own responsibility marched to the relief of Elizabeth, and thereby allowed the enemy to escape. Some were base enough to attribute this sudden countermarch to motives unworthy of a brave officer-intimating that the general was apprehensive that if he proceeded further he might come to his end before the war did, an issue contrary to his most ardent desire. Every one who really knew him regarded this insinuation as a foul aspersion-yet it pressed with such weight on the sensitive mind of this great man that in the following year he resigned his com- mission in the army. But he continued the active friend of his country; and, having lived to see the success of the patriot arms, the triumph of justice and the freedom of America, he died full of peace and full of hope, the friend of Washington, beloved by him and by all his com- patriots of the Revolution,
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GEN. WINDS'S GRAVE-OLD-TIME CHRISTMAS SCENES.
He left in his will a portion of his estate as follows: "From the great regard I have felt for the interest of excitement. He strained his eyes, and far off, under a Christ's Kingdom, and for the benefit of the Presbyterian church, I do hereby give and bequeath to the Presby- terian church at Rockaway all the remainder of my whole property for a parsonage." He was borne to his grave in the churchyard of Rockaway, and buried with the honors of war. On a brown stone in the rear of the church is the following inscription, written by his friend Dr. Darby, of Parsippany, who acted as his lawyer, phy- sician and minister, wrote his will, attended him in his sickness, prayed at his bedside, and preached his funeral sermon:
" Under this monument lies buried the body of Wni. Winds, Esq., who departed this life Oct. 12 1789, in the 62nd year of his age. His natural abilities were con- siderable, which he improved for the good of his fellow men. Whenever the cause of his country and liberty called he ventured his life on the field of battle. As a civil magistrate he acted with integrity; he also sustained the office of captain, major, colonel and general with great honor. He was a provident husband, a kind neigh- bor, a friend to the poor and a good Christian. Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord."
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