USA > New Jersey > Somerset County > Within a Jersey circle : tales of the past, grave and gay, as picked up from old Jerseyites > Part 20
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"What's that you said, Luther,-'for a doctor'? No, I guess not. He's gone to get his nephew. Oh, say, Luther, that reminds me; weren't you a tellin' some- thing about seeing young John Marsh down in Crebbs' tavern one night last week and that he was talking with Slippery Dick ?"
"Sure I was! and I know more'n I telt ye then, too!" Luther sung out, delighted to find the deep interest his words all of a sudden seemed to create, for usually no- body cared to listen to him. "Why," said he, "I heared tell that young John lost more'n three hundred dollars in one night down there at cards." He had not finished speaking when a boy stuck his head in at the door and shouted that there were six men on horseback gone up to Uncle John's house. Soon the astounding news was out that another valuable horse had been stolen, this time at Turkey village. (Afterward named New Providence ;
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so called as tradition has it, because at a very full church meeting the crowded gallery fell to the ground and not one hurt. "It is a providence," the minister declared. "Let us call this favored place the New Providence ;" and that has been its name ever since). Young John Marsh had been seen loitering in the Turkey neighbor- hood on the night of the theft. It was in fact a posse of Turkey villagers the boy had seen going up to Uncle John's place, whither they went in the hope of nabbing Young John, who, they insisted, had stolen the horse.
Evil news travels fast; everywhere far and near, as if by magic, it was known that the handsome and jovial young John Marsh was wanted for horse stealing; and going to strengthen suspicion of him, he could nowhere be found. His uncle John came home terribly down up- on his nephew and became one of the most actively deter- mined, as he said, "to land the young cub in jail." Now that his eyes were opened he could recall many things in the young man's conduct of late that seemed to fit in with the worst that was said of him.
"A horse-thief! Ruination and damnation for the good name he disgraces! States prison for the scamp! That's where he'll be shortly or my name's not John Marsh !"
But either the uncle overestimated his capabilities or sadly miscalculated his nephew's cleverness. For days slipped away, weeks, months and even a whole year, and still young Marsh was at large. And to crown it all, horses kept on slipping away, also, until all the country, from the North River to the Delaware and from New York State on the north, to Staten Island and Long Isl- and on the south, horse owners trembled at his name.
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"He's the very devil is that boy, John;" the baffled un- cle began in the store one night. And promptly everyone adopted the name of "Devil John" for the man that so neatly nipped up choice horses, here, there and everywhere, turned them into cash and disappeared into forest fastnesses, simply defying the law and all its emissaries. And for one so superhumanly crafty and nimble of wit and limb as he was in his nefarious and hazardous work, the name seemed not inappropriate and it clung to him to the last.
I am indebted to A. C. Townley of Newark, who is quite a lover of ancient lore, for most of these details in the short and somewhat spectacular career of this re- markable young scapegrace. On one occasion, my inform- ant said, Devil John was sighted toward dusk on a road near the village then called Browsetown, now known as Watchung. Stiles, the miller and Peter Allen were talk- ing together at the head of the Notch road, on the way to Plainfield, and suddenly noticed the notorious horse-thief crossing the road. They immediately gave chase and fol- lowed through a small wood dividing two clearings. When half through the wood they had to climb over a large fallen tree, after which, though they lost sight of their man, they rushed forward hoping to find him in the cleared ground ahead. In this they were disappointed, but while looking around and listening, they heard rust- ling in the wood behind them. Back they ran full tilt, when, to their amazement they saw in the gathering darkness what appeared to be a fiery figure moving away through the trees.
"Hold on, Stiles!" Allen whispered, "don't go any farther ; that's no man but a ghost we're after!"
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"Nonsense, Pete! Look ye here. Here's where my lad dodged us." And Stiles pointed to a mass of glowing phosphorescent pulp in the hollow old tree, where Devil John had hidden himself. He easily escaped and as usual left the neighborhood distracted by riding away in the dim of early morning on one of the farmers' best horses. With various superstitious trimmings this tale has regaled the imaginations of nursery prattlers in the mountains for generations.
A mountaineer farmer, Baltus Roll was dragged from his house one freezing night and murdered. His wife, who was left tied to the wood pile in her night-dress, also died from fright and exposure. Abner Smalley, who married the deceased woman's sister got the farm and among other things had an exceptionally fine saddle horse, one that was good for sixty miles a day over those hills with the proud Abner on his back. Naturally the owner of such an animal shared the general dread of a visit from Devil John, and he provided himself with a big savage dog which he kept in the stable to protect his horse. But one day he found the dog dead and before he could get another the horse disappeared. The co- incidence pointed to poison, which the knowing thief un- doubtedly used to effect his purpose.
Abner hunted high and low the whole county over for his horse, but in vain. Months after he had given up hope of ever seeing it again Noah Collins, a neighbor, hap- pening to be over on Long Island, was astonished one day to see Abner's horse, which he knew in a moment, quietly grazing in a paddock there. He quickly sent word of his find and Abner as quickly responded by going to
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Long Island and replevining his horse. He found to his amazement that Devil John, who got the horse of course, first sold it to another man; then after a few days he re-stole the animal one night and then sold it to the man from whom Abner replevened it.
Another time the famous horse thief stole a fine sad- dle horse and started by way of the Old York Road for Philadelphia. The theft having been discovered in bet- ter time than usual, the rightful owner promptly raised an outcry and with half a dozen mounted neighbors gave hot chase. Knowing the direction the thief took they pushed ahead that way haphazard until daylight broke. The first man they met was hailed :
"Have you seen a man on horseback going this way? It's Devil John, the horse thief!"
"Lans sakes alive! Yes; he's just ahead of ye."
Applying whip and spur, they dashed forward until, as they approached Ringoes, they had him in plain view and commenced yelling "Stop thief! Stop thief!" not more than two hundred yards behind, hoping the Ringoes villagers would stop the runaway. But Devil John had a ready wit; for seeing several men in the road ahead of him and making sure they heard his pursuers' yells, he took up the cry himself and shouted even louder than they did, "Stop thief! Stop thief!" pointing ahead and gesturing wildly to stop an imaginary fugitive; and while the villagers looked to see if anyone had previously passed the wily thief swept by in a cloud of dust. The truth dawned on the men when the panting pursurers came up, demanding:
"Why didn't you stop that man?" but they waited not
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answers, only looking their disgust and laying whips harder than ever on their jaded horses. On went the chase with another near shave at Doylestown; but the thief being better mounted put a wider gap between them. On reaching Nice Town and the Black Horse tavern, and at the Germantown road corner, they had to enquire which way the thief had taken. Arriving at Gerard avenue and Second street, Philadelphia, they began a search of the stables; but for a long time could see nothing of the horse or man they sought. But while standing undecided where to go next they heard a horse's whinney from a cellar beneath the stables. Demanding admittance they found the stolen horse covered with foam but no trace of its rider. From the description given of him, however, the decamped jockey was easily recognized as the arch enemy of horse-owners, Devil John. He lost his horse this time but once more got clear away himself.
For several years the young horse-thief thus pursued his robberies, in defiance of all that could be done to stop or stay him; as if he were a hawk and pounced upon his prey from the clouds, striking, now here, now there, in this county or that, from Long Island to Warren, and disappearing with his booty as if by magic. After a long respite from his depredations Stony Hill was once more thrown into spasms by the report that he was again hov- ering on its skirts, in the woods. His uncle John being duly notified, at once jumped to the conclusion that his rascally nephew was going to steal his beautiful chestnut known as the finest saddle-horse in the section.
"Well, he may try his hand at it, but he'll get a few inches of steel into his ribs first," Uncle John declared,
His pursuers stopped. They dared not breast such a tumbling torrent.
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brandishing a pitchfork. And he took the fork over to a neighbor's and had the prongs specially sharpened for the purpose. Then as night came on he secreted himself in the stable on the watch, weapon in hand, ready to impale his desperate nephew if he dared to show up. Three suc- cessive nights he watched without result. On the fourth night his vigilance, without excitement, beginning to slacken a little, he involuntarily dropped asleep in spite of himself.
Waking with a tremendous start, like Saul did his spear, he clutched the pitchfork and jumped to his feet; but the horse was gone! The nimble David, or Devil .John, had come to his tent, helped himself and had gone in peace. As the old gentleman dashed for the door he felt something up his sleeve and drew from it a piece of paper. Rushing into the house, in the candlelight he read in the paper :
"My humble duty to you, Uncle John, and grateful thanks for the chestnut. I'll duly report to you what I get for him. John."
"Well he is the very devil himself, that boy, for sure!" Uncle John cried, dashing out and listening for any sound ; but all was still as the grave. He rushed for help and several men rode in various directions without, however, finding the least trace of the clever thief. Know- ing every wood path throughout the country Devil John easily escaped. And the young scapegrace kept his word with his uncle, for inside of a week, he wrote from Eas-
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ton, Pennsylvania, that he had just sold the chestnut for a large sum.
But as such careers naturally invite, the desperate young man came to an inglorious end. Being hotly pursued on a stolen horse a little below Phillipsburg, Warren Co., he saw nothing for it but capture or to swim the swollen Delaware. Suddenly wheeling from the road he drove the spurs into the mettled horse's sides and plunged into the raging river. His pursuers stopped. They dared not breast such a tumbling torrent. He was more than man, they said, if he crossed alive.
But they soon saw horse and man roll over and over in the boiling flood and then sink out of sight. That was the end of Devil John. Both he and his last stolen horse were drowned and must have been swept out to sea; for neither was ever again seen or heard of.
THE LONG PASTORATE OF NORTH BRANCH.
REV. PHILIP MELANCHTHON DOOLITTLE, D. D., AND MANY OF HIS CLASSMATES SERVED LONG TERMS.
The Rev. Dr. Philip Melanchthon Doolittle was pas- tor of the North Branch Reformed Dutch Church for a little over half a century. On the 25th of July, 1906, there was a great festal gathering of clergy and laity in the village on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of his pastorate, at which the aged clergyman delivered an able and interesting historical account of his stewardship, and in several addresses of classmates and laymen, was made the recipient of well deserved felicitations.
The address on behalf of the Theological Seminary of New Brunswick, class of 1856, by Rev. Dr. E. Tanjore Corwin, was particularly interesting in pleasant reminis- cence, as well as disclosing the fact that Doctor Doolit- tle and he had been classmates of Dr. T. De Witt Tal- mage. The class, Dr. Corwin said, had been somewhat exceptional for long terms. One reached thirty-eight years of service in the ministry; three served from forty to forty-five years; one of forty-eight years still continued in the same field, "and," the speaker said, "your own honored pastor here at North Branch, of fifty years." Three of the class were in the ministry over forty years; Rev. Giles Vanderwall, deceased, a Hollander by birth ; the second. Rev. John Ferguson Harris, deceased, served forty-two years.
"The third of this trio," Dr. Corwin said, "Rev. T.
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DeWitt Talmage, was in the ministry for forty-six years. He held in all five pastorates, the one in Brook- lyn reaching a term of twenty-five years. He was the genius of our class. Not remarkable as a student, he was, nevertheless, an omniverous reader. His thoughts came in glowing pictures, which he presented in most viv- id colors to his astonished hearers. His style of preaching in the seminary had all the peculiarities of his subsequent years, only later on it became somewhat more chastened."
Dr. Corwin named four others of the same class as semi-centenarians; Rev. Dr. John H. Oerter, forty-eight years pastor of the Fourth German Church of New York. Well known as a scholar, Dr. Oerter was chosen by General Synod to deliver one of the courses of Vedder lectures in the New Brunswick Seminary, which course was published in volume in 1887. Rev. Dr. James Dem- arest was another of the class, who, after he had passed his seventieth year, was chosen pastor of the Claremont Ave- nue Church in Brooklyn, N. Y.
"It was my own privilege," said the speaker, "to serve the church of Millstone for twenty-five years. I have always been a little proud of so long a pastorate, but what is that compared with Dr. Doolittle's?"
Dr. Corwin's address was interspersed with entertain- ing anecdotes. One, illustrative of a proneness to dry wit and humor on the part of Dr. Doolittle in his col- lege days, was given. Even the professors sometimes came in for a hit. It was customary for the students to preach on certain days, with the other students and a pro- fessor in the chair, as critics. After the sermon any one who had a criticism to make made it. This day, a very
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hot day in June it was, when they had assembled half baked with the heat, the president came in with every evidence that he had dined heartily, perhaps a little too well for so hot a day. For not long after he had as- sumed the comfortable armchair, and the preacher had fairly well launched out on his subject, it was noticed that the presiding professor had dropped into a sound sleep.
Winks and smiles liberally passed among the young men, much to the annoyance and embarrassment of the preacher. Luckily the sleeper awoke just before the ser- mon ended, and, as if nothing unusual had happened, sedately called upon the students to make their criticisms of the discourse. After several young men had spoken, Dr. Doolittle rose and gravely commented on the ser- mon : .
"But, professor," he said at the finish, "I noticed dur- ing the delivery of the sermon that some of the auditors were fast asleep. This is not showing due respect to the preacher, and is even embarrassing to him, and I hope that the professor when he sums up our criticisms will re- buke such conduct as it deserves."
After this somewhat bold move all waited breathlessly for the professor's way out of such a dilemma. He was a large man of truly majestic presence, but genial withal. Rising with his blandest smile and with his fingers in- serted among his vest buttons:
"Young gentlemen," he said, "I have listened to your criticisms to-day with the greatest interest, and for once I think they are so unusually excellent and just that I do not feel that I can add anything to them. Good af- 22
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ternoon." And through a convenient door he slid from the room.
Rev. George H. Stephens, of Philadelphia, who had attended the church as a little boy, coming in at the eleventh hour, gave an address sparkling with humorous pleasantry. Then, taking from the table a purse, which emitted an agreeable, chinking sound :
"But I have a special duty to perform," he said. "It is in the realm of finance, and there's no graft in it, either. * Good old Dr. Cuyler was present once at the annual New England dinner," Mr. Stephens explained, "and, being called upon to speak, as finance was then on the carpet, said he would propound them a conundrum:
" 'Why,' Dr. Cuyler queried, 'was Noah the greatest financier of his times?' He gave them a year for its solution. The following year, not being present at the banquet, he telegraphed the answer to his conundrum.
"'Noah was the greatest financier of his time,' he said, 'because he was able to float a stock company at a time when all his contemporaries were forced into involuntary liquidation.' "
Mr. Stephens on behalf of the North Branch congre- gation then presented Dr. Doolittle with a purse of gold, along with which the doctor was to accept the affection- ate wishes of his people that he might long be spared to minister to them.
It was no distant date, however, when the infirmities of advanced years forced the venerable pastor to retire. He felt that his work was done and resigned.
"Yet," said the earnest old man, "if you will allow
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me, I'll preach just one more sermon next Sunday as my last word in our dear old church-the last sermon I shall ever preach."
But though his wish was gladly granted it was not to be consummated; for before the next Sunday came the doctor with his last sermon unpreached had passed to his reward. It is believed that he felt his resignation to be such a calamity that it practically killed him.
An account of a long village pastorate is usually a good history of the vicinity, and Dr. Doolittle's address made mention of many changes, which mostly marked the usuall falling off of business industries to be seen in rural communities. Nevertheless, it recorded a gain of fifty-three communicants more than were in the church at the beginning of his incumbency.
David Dumont, an old church member, now in his eighty-second year, says the church used to be the nucleus around which several industries nestled for many years. Now all these have either died out or moved over the bridge to the newer part of the village. Among these, the school, which at first was opposite the church across the road, afterward moved into the churchyard, and later was moved over the bridge into its present location. A wheelwright shop was also close by the church formerly and a large general store, kept by Peter Ten Eyck, a few yards distant at the corner of the roads.
When the school was near the church in the old days, it was kept by John Keys, an Irishman, and a first-class teacher, Mr. Dumont says, who opened school at 7.30 A. M. and made his pupils work till 5 and sometimes 6 P. M. If they got a half holiday on Saturday, once a
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month, they were thankful. School was kept the whole year round-as a News correspondent has been advocat- ing for the schools of to-day-and with splendid results. Mr. Dumont remembers another schoolmaster, before Mr. Keys's time, named Vanderbilt, who was the oppo- site of Keys as a teacher; for he used to get drunk and fall asleep in his chair, when the children left him to his nap and played ball.
For a good many years of Dr. Doolittle's later life his household included an interesting and rather noted char- acter as general helper, named Harriet Ditmars, much better known as "Old Harriet." Many things she said and did are well worth telling; but that is another story and must wait.
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