USA > New York > Ulster County > Kingston > History and legend, fact, fancy and romance of the Old Mine Road, Kingston, N.Y., to the mine holes of Pahaquarry > Part 11
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The roadmakers have a way of running highways in as straight a line as the nature of the ground will permit, and as the flat lands on this east side of the Delaware are quite ex- tensive above Dingman's, the road gives the impression of deliberately avoiding the river as much as possible, even run- ning over the toes of the hills to do so, and all the traveler knows about the river here is what the map says.
Several stone houses are passed that suggest a possibility of stories and things, but if there are such they are a sealed book, and we will keep on down the highway. Dingman's Ferry is now a modern iron bridge that is merely useful, and we pass on without even a look and begin the climb over the ridge that in days long gone took quite a fall out of the river. It must have been a good deal like rolling out of one of those old-fashioned, four-post bedsteads that required a stepladder introduction. But the ridge has been worn through until now it hardly causes a ripple of excitement.
But the wayfarer still has a long hill to pull over, known here as Pompey Ridge-below as Walpack Hill. On one occa- sion this traveler found himself near the top of the hill as night was coming on, and kept on over into Peters Valley, ad- joining, where was bed and board at Bevens P. O.
Those who cater to the needs and comfort of the public here are not early risers. My landlady announced that the
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morning meal might happen any time between 6 and 7 o'clock. As a matter of fact it did not happen until nearly 8; there was plenty of it, though, and reasonably good for the price, one dollar for supper, bed and breakfast. When the meal was ready the good woman went into the bar and thumped on the ceiling with the broom, and in due course her men came troop- ing down stairs. Dressing consisted of getting into trousers, shirt and shoes, and did not take long.
Once back to the hilltop from the place of my night's lodg- ing, I found the down grade of the river road quite as long as the upward climb of last evening, but it's down. The views from both slopes include mountain and river and are always beautiful. Sometimes one strikes the eye more forcibly, some- times the other; it depends largely on atmospheric conditions and how the shadows lie, but the southern slope, it seems to me, furnishes a more varied assortment of foregrounds-at least such is the impression that remains.
And then this down grade carries one to the very edge of the river, even if it is only for a moment, and right here is a spot where I came on a clump of wild flowers or escapes that were altogether different from old acquaintances in the line, one to two feet high and perched on the end of the stem; the petals started in green and continued to the end in the most brilliant scarlet, lighting up the meadow in quite as brilliant fashion as does England's poppy.
We are on the outposts of Schapanach. October 15, 1735, Adam Dingman purchased land here. And here lay the farm of John Cleves Symmes, who about 1760 removed from Long Island to these western wilds. His wife, Anna, mother-in-law of President Harrison, lies in the old burial ground on the hill at the left as we go. It was John Cleves, Jr., who was
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the author of the theory that the north pole was a hole in the ground.
The log church, Dutch, erected previous to the Revolution at this point, was in use as late as 1826. Just below this burial ground formerly stood, on the lower end of the knoll which commands an extended view up and down the river, the old fort erected during the French and Indian War and which, during the Revolution, was part of the dwelling of Col. John Rosenkrans.
The old stone house still standing just under and south of this knoll was probably built by Isaac Van Campen, member of the Legislature from 1782 to 1785. An iron fireback made for the house at the Oxford Furnace bears date 1742. About 1811 this property was purchased from Abraham Van Campen by Henry De Witt, of Rochester, for his son John H. DeWitt, who built the peculiar long-roofed barn still standing. When in 1829 slavery was abolished in New Jersey, the only slave in Sussex County was Cæsar, belonging to the De Witts here; he refused his freedom.
In 1776 a band of prowling Indians captured three Wal- pack settlers, McGinnis, Teal and Courtright, in broad day and escaped across the river into the wilds of Pennsylvania before the alarm was given.
Capt. Emmanuel Hoover immediately gathered a party of men and started in pursuit. The Captain was an eminently efficient leader and all were thorough woodsmen; as the sav- ages were trailed scouts were thrown ahead to prevent a sur- prise. It was not long before McGinnis was found murdered and scalped, and this spurred on the pursuers who, by care and expedition, came on the unsuspicious savages preparing their camp for the night.
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In the midst of the camp the other prisoners could be seen tied hand and foot, and Hoover gave his men directions to sur- round the camp, and after all were asleep to close in on a given signal, but under no circumstances to fire a gun until the signal was given. As the hours crept on the net was drawn closer and closer and the time had almost arrived for the at- tack when an Indian arose to replenish the fast dying fire. The sight so aroused the fury of a friend of the murdered Mc- Ginnis that he forgot everything in his desire for revenge and shot the Indian dead. The camp was of course in instant com- motion, the warriors merely staying long enough to attempt the killing of their prisoners, and then plunged into the outer darkness where further pursuit was out of the question.
The bonds were cut and the released men hurried away from the dangerous firelight before inquiry was made as to their con- dition, when it was found that Teal had escaped unhurt, while Courtright was severely wounded.
There was now nothing to do but return home with the one red scalp when they should have had those of all the party, and shouldering their wounded neighbor the return journey was made as quickly as possible. (Above is condensed from an account written in 1879 by W. H. Layton, who stated that he had the facts from a sketch written by a grandson of An- drew Dingman.)
From now on to Flatbrookville a succession of woodland and river views follow each other in beautiful profusion. The scent of the wild strawberry burdens the air, if it be mid June, while great masses of laurel bloom, or the more scattered clus- ters of rhododendron border the way.
We pass a rustic watering trough, and next a ruined log house, and just as the road is about to swing onto the river's
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edge and at the foot of an enormous double tree on the west, wells a spring of pure cold water that is a great find for the thirsty traveler-a plank step through the fence shows the way.
Here is the most beautiful river view of the entire trip. The bank, which the road follows closely at this point, is bordered by great trees whose branches frame the loveliest of pictures of mountain and stream, rocks and sandy points, with possibly a lone fisherman enjoying his vacation idle.
This part of the road is but little used, at one spot so over- grown is it with weeds that it is undecipherable, but a few feet in advance, and so dense is the thicket on the riverside that the water is hardly to be seen. An emerald tunnel through primeval woods where the scarlet tanager flits, and walled in places with the rhododendron.
"Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,- Emerald twilights,- Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows, When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods, Of the heavenly woods and glades
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within The wide sea-marshes of Glynn ;-
"Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire,- Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire, Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves,- Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves,
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Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the wood, Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good ;- "
-Sidney Lanier.
Finally there comes a point where one must cross the Wal- pack Hill or take the long way around to Flatbrookville, and if it is the far end of the day, when every half mile counts, it's likely you would go over the hill as I did. At first our uplift is an interesting woods road where the shade is very grateful on a warm day and where all manner of wild flowers abound. A stiff climb for a half mile or so.
Then comes a crossroad with a farmhouse and a suggestion of cultivation, then some up-and-downness, and finally the de- cline to Flat Brook, a trout stream of no mean reputation.
Flatbrookville has a back-woods flavor that immediately appeals to one. The stream is harnessed to a little saw and grist mill, there is here a hotel and a store, and a few houses that straggle down the road in a casually careless sort of fashion. The talk is of fish and fishing and the farmers com- plain that the deer eat up their garden truck.
From an address delivered by Mr. B. B. Edsall, at the Sus- sex County Centenary, we learn that the first settlement in the county was that along our Old Mine Road. That in 1738 the only grist mill in the county was on Flat Brook near the Dela- ware River, and that one of the first three saw mills in the county was on Flat Brook. That in 1738 the county contained not more than 5-600 inhabitants, and that wagons were then unknown in Sussex save in the Minisink region.
At the mouth of the brook in the Delaware is the remark- able whirlpool, the Indian name of which, Wahlpeck, meaning whirlpool, gives name to the township according to Hecke-
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welder. Mr. Ruttenber says that it is probably a corruption of Walpeek, meaning "deep water", and was formerly the name of a lake.
The hotel boasts an indolent old cat that can furnish a ten- minute entertainment to guests whenever she wishes. It ap- pears that tabby is very fond of lying in the dust of the road, but no sooner does she settle down than the barn swallows proceed to have fun with her ladyship-it can be nothing else. The birds swoop down within an inch or less of pussy's whiskers, causing her at times to jump back from the too close contact. Occasionally she makes a quick move with intent to intercept their flight, but by the time her paw is out the bird is fifty feet hence, and finally Mistress Pussy, unable to stand it longer, retires to cover. I saw the operation twice repeated and was told that it was of frequent occurrence and that never yet, so far as known, had one of the birds been caught.
The first mail route, 1852, was established from Flatbrook- ville to Newton my way of Millbrook, Hardwick and Still- water.
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PAHAQUARRY.
Our road, after crossing Flat Brook, immediately begins the ascent of the Kittatinny Mountain, which is the New Jersey continuation of old Shawangunk, and soon one is in a position to look down on Walpack Bend, or down stream as far as the atmosphere will allow.
The first crossroad carries the traveler along the side of the hill and may be the original mine road, but the interest lies in the village of Millbrook and along the banks of Vancampens Brook, as the map calls it, and it is thus we will go.
There are only two villages in the entire township of Pa- haquarry, which is nothing but a side hill anyway, and Mill- brook is one of them. Here in 1839 came Coonrad Welter, known to his neighbors as "Coon". His house soon became a home for all the circuit riders and preachers who visited the place, and was known as the "Methodist Tavern". Some of the circuits covered a five hundred mile trail, and the preachers commonly carried a tin horn with mighty blasts from which they announced their arrival.
There was no church building here until 1860.
The brook is a very pleasant companion as it ambles along down its little valley, until it takes to jumping the rocks, when it sounds from the road as though it was going all to smash; however, we catch it a little later dodging under the highway in such manner as would indicate that it can be entirely cheer- ful under the most adverse conditions.
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Shortly after leaving Mill Brook to waste its substance on the Delaware we come on an old Van Campen house, built something less than two hundred years ago; its exact age is lost in the mist, but it was erected by a Van Campen, and Abraham Van C., the first, came to the Pahaquarry flats about 1720.
It is related that in the Spring of 1780 Major Moses Van Campen, who was born in this house, was captured by Indians with intent to take him to the headwaters of the Susquehanna, or some other inaccessible region, and there make a holiday of him, but apparently the captors did not figure on the Major's disinclination to be roasted and scalped.
The story, as abbreviated from the "Life of Van Campen", is as follows: After the Wyoming massacre such inhabitants as escaped spent their spare time in those forts which were nearest to their farms, but the temptation to return and cul- tivate the farms was strong within them. Thus the Major, with his father and younger brother, an uncle and cousin, and one Peter Pence, left Fort Wheeler, near Wyoming, for their clearings four miles distant. They were surprised, the father and brother murdered and scalped before his eyes and the Major himself taken prisoner; on the adjoining farm his uncle was killed and the boy and Peter Pence taken prisoners.
Then came the march toward Niagara, but before going far the family of one Pike was captured. The wife and child were allowed to go after being deprived of most of their clothing, but Pike was taken along with the others.
Van Campen had mixed with Indians all his life and knew them well, he was the bravest of the brave, had been with Sul- livan when the Iroquois country was raided, and because of his character and ability was usually selected for the post of dan-
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ger. He had at one time invaded a camp of sleeping Indians, counted those around one camp fire, counted the number of camp fires and escaped without detection, though the redskins numbered some seven hundred.
In his present position his thoughts naturally turned toward escape, and he began counselling his fellow prisoners with that end in view, but they could only see that they were three unarmed men against ten armed foes, and in order to arouse them to the situation Van Campen reminded his friends that they, being the first prisoners taken after the Sullivan raid, would undoubtedly be subjected to torture, and that they might better give up their lives in an attempt to escape, rather than supinely wait for such a terrible end, but even then it devolved on him to make all the plans.
His idea was to take the first opportunity that offered while their captors slept and take them at a disadvantage, and planned to have Pence station himself by the guns, which were always stacked about a tree, while he and Pike, with hatchets, should dispatch as many as possible before the enemy could as- sume the offensive.
The captives were tied every night, but while they were lying about the fire one evening, an Indian dropped a knife which the Major covered with his foot, and when all were asleep he worked his way out carefully and with the knife cut the bonds of his companions who, in turn, cut his. Pence im- mediately placed himself by the stacked guns, Pike with a hatchet was placed where he could quickly brain two of the savages, and Van Campen where he could kill three; but just at this critical moment the two assigned to Pike stirred and he, losing his nerve, lay down, but the Major recognized the situa- tion as one calling for dispatch and quickly buried his hatchet
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in the heads of the two half-aroused men and then turned to the three originally set apart for him. As he struck down the last of these Pence opened fire with the guns and killed four.
Now there was but one left and he, not fully comprehend- ing the situation, sprang for the guns and then, discovering his error, turned and fled for the cover of the woods with Van Campen close upon him. The latter raised his hatchet to strike, but missed the Indian's head and buried the blade in his shoulder. At the same instant both slipped and fell and grappled on the ground as they were; then came a struggle of giants. The blood from his foe's wound blinded the Major and put him at a disadvantage, but knowing that the Indian was feeling for his scalping knife and that quick action was required, he caught his toes in the belt of his adversary and with a mighty shove broke his hold and threw him several feet. The moment spent in searching for the hatchet gave the Indian an opportunity to reach the cover of the dark woods and the fight was over. Nine had been killed and one wounded man escaped.
Under such conditions the firelight was always dangerous and the three men gathered the booty as quickly as possible and retired to the cover of darkness to await the coming of day when they could with safety, take up their march for home. The booty consisted of twelve guns, one of which was Van Campen's own, blankets, coats, the nine Indian scalps and two white scalps which had been taken early in the raid.
In later years the Indian who escaped met Van Campen and identified himself by the scar in his back. Both were notable men among their kind, strong and courageous, and it is said they became good friends.
The Moravian Memorials quote Albert G. Broadhead as
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authority for the statement that John Adams, while attend- ing Congress in Philadelphia, as late as 1800, used the Old Mine Road as a link in the most eligible route from Boston to that city. "He was accustomed to lodge at Esquire Van Campen's in the Jersey Minisink". The general opinion seems to be that it was at this Van Campen house that Adams stopped, though if I understand it aright the Minisink only reached so far south as Walpack Bend, and if so it may have been at the Van Campen house in Shappanack.
There is yet another old stone house as I tramped, but it has been modernized to meet the needs of the Summer boarder and only its stout stone walls remain to suggest a tale. This was the home of Henry Shoemaker, a soldier of the Revolu- tion. It seems that there was in this region an over enthusi- astic, though it would appear a highly indiscreet, Tory, one Jim Barton by name.
Now Barton was unwise enough to hit a bigger man than himself with highly disastrous results. One night he waylaid and insulted Shoemaker, who climbed down from his horse and thrashed the Tory until he cried enough. But while the captor was willing to drop this line of argument he was not through, for he made Barton march down the road ahead of him to the house of George Michaels where the two fitted out their guest with a suit of tar and feathers and allowed him to depart in peace.
The objective of all these many pages is the Mine Holes of Pahaquarry, and we have come to them, but before proceeding with our own investigation, it may be well to introduce a few notes on the subject of mining in this region taken from a paper read before the Minisink Valley Historical Society, by Mr. J. H. Wood, on February 28, 1889.
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Mr. Wood states that there existed a tradition handed down from the Indians that lead could be found on Tibb's Meadow tract, a half mile south of Culver's Gap in Sandyston. About thirty-five years ago some work was done here by Joseph Layton, but he was apparently unsuccessful, and abandoned the project.
Some seven miles south of this are signs of copper. Deeds of some one hundred acres here made in 1748 and 1759 men- tioned a copper mine, the location of which is now unknown.
Two miles south of Walpack Center is an excavation under a large rock, showing traces of silver ore, and on an adjoining farm are veins of copper, which can be traced for some ten or eleven miles to the old copper mines of Pahaquarry.
One supposed to be posted has stated that one of the old mine holes of Pahaquarry was never made by a miner, as it was contrary to all rules and would entail a heavy expense to miss the vein a foot.
B. B. Edsall, deceased, "the best informed historian in the county of Sussex", said the pioneer settlement of Pahaquarry was made by Hollanders as early as 1664, and possibly prior to that date.
So much for what Mr. Wood dug out. The location of the copper mine holes is near Shoemaker's old "Union Hotel", about half way between Walpack Bend and the Water Gap, on Mine Brook, and it was here that our road terminated.
When I first came this way, in the Spring of 1907, there was a great noise of blasting. The price of copper was up and some gentleman of persuasive ways, believing that the mining of this ore would pay, started a company, sold stock and erected buildings containing much machinery, when, lo! the price of copper dropped and another dream was busted.
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Now all is as quiet as it was after the Dutchmen got through two hundred and fifty years ago. The two mine holes are a few hundred feet up the small brook that seems quite happy again now that the mercenaries are gone. The two holes are two holes from my point of view and that is about all there is to be said of them. No one knows who the original miners were, but the supposition is that they were some of the earli- est Dutch explorers who disappeared long enough before the first actual settlers came to leave no memory or legend of themselves that is founded on anything more substantial than air. The surroundings are romantic and beautiful in the extreme, and it is a wonderful spot for a person with a well- trained imagination, provided he is careful not to sit down on a rattlesnake.
Just below is the scow ferry which takes the traveler across to Shanoe, where still stands the house of Nicholas Depue, who came this way about 1720, a man who is frequently mentioned in the old records.
When the rivers were frozen there was a good road from the mine holes to Esopus, over which (1730) wheat and cider were carried out and salt and necessaries brought back. Pos- sibly our Old Mine Road at this time was little more than a bridle path.
When a navigable channel was opened through Foul Rift and it was possible to get out by boat, trade turned down stream and the road became less and less traveled.
The remaining miles to the Water Gap on the Jersey side keep in fairly close touch with the river; there is some culti- vable land, all of which is taken advantage of for the purpose of keeping alive the Summer boarder. One Worthington owns a stretch about so wide and some two miles long which in-
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cludes all the hilltop and has been turned into a deer park. This is all very nice and interesting for Mr. W., but a few Winters back when he found it difficult to feed his animals he calmly broke down his fences and turned the hungry and un- discriminating creatures loose on the farmers-at least, so the farmers say-and they do not appear to like it even to a small degree, for there is no open season in New Jersey for the killing of deer, and nothing pleases a deer better than a vegetable garden.
The highway for a mile along here is a quiet woodland road bordered with rhododendron and retaining the damp of the deep woods long after all else is dry and dusty; now and then some small brook does a fancy tumble or the waters drip from the moss-covered rocks.
As we come opposite the buildings which make the Gap settlement it has been found necessary to shave off the rocks in order to make way for the road. Still further down the water washed the base of a cliff so steep that even the Indian could not scale its face. This is still known as "Indian Lad- der" because they here used a tree which leaned against the rock face by which to ascend. This was replaced later by the whites with a rope ladder, but the spot was always regarded as a dangerous one, until the engineer came with his drills and dynamite.
We have not only come to the end of our journey, but have run past it by some miles, for one must get home about a cer- tain time in order to earn another vacation, and it's down here that the railroad is.
APPENDIX.
MATTERS PERTAINING TO THE SENATE HOUSE, HURLEY.
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APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
Copy of the will of Jan Van Dusen, who owned the Senate House of Hurley when the Senate sat therein.
Liber C. Page 256. Surrogate's Office; Kingston, New York.
Will was probated April 25, 1801.
Joshua Gasherie, Surrogate.
In the name of God Amen. I Jan Van dusen of the Township of Hurley County of Ulster and State of New York being weak in body but of Sound Memeory (blessed be God) do this seventh day of September in the year of our Lord Christ, one thousand seven hundred and Eighty one make and publish this my last Will and Testament in the manner following
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