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 6
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As we pass down the road toward the west we come to a lane on the left leading to Indian Hill, in the near corner of which, now a vacant lot, once stood the old stone church of Wawarsing. The date of erection is unknown, but "Olde Ul- ster" says that a church had been here long enough to be de- scribed in 1742 as the "Old Meeting House". At the time of the last Indian raid down this valley, August 12, 1781, the savages entered the church and amused themselves by throw- ing their tomahawks at the panels of the pulpit, leaving a num- ber of gashes which were never repaired. Two of the more venturesome of the whites attempted to shoot some of the in- vaders as they stood in the church door, but one gun missed fire and one gunner missed aim and they were compelled to run for it without having done any damage. The church stood until 1843, when it burned.
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Keeping down the lane and through a farm gate we see on the right the John C. Hoornbeek house, formerly the dwelling of a Vernoy. At the moment of attack only Mrs. Vernoy and her baby were about the place; she in the barn and the child in its cradle in the house. Two of the enemy entered the house, Shanks Ben, a noted Indian, and a Tory, who was one of the party. The woman, knowing it was certain death to show herself, was compelled to remain where she could, un- seen herself, see into the open door of the house. Thus she saw the savage go to the cradle with raised tomahawk to strike, when the babe smiled in his face and he could not bring himself to kill it; but not so the representative of civili- zation, who without compunction dashed out the innocent life. Even a babe's scalp had a money value in those days, for the English appear to have deliberately put a price on scalps.
Toward the close of the war a British detachment was captured on its way to Canada and among its baggage were found literally bales of scalps, representing 340 men, 88 women, 193 boys, many girls, but number not given, 29 unborn infants and 122 mixed, old and young of both sexes.
Continuing along the lane we stop at the next bend where across the fields can be seen the notch which cradles the Ver- noy Kill. In the immediate foreground is the site of the stockaded stone fort used during the Indian troubles.
The "Narratives of Massacres and Depredations on the Frontier in Wawasink" mentions the fact that one Philip Hine and another were acting as scouts at this time and were cap- tured by the Indians.
Naturally this is of interest to a member of the family, but who this Philip Hine was is something yet to be learned. As the men of Massachusetts and Connecticut frequently worked
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their way over to this frontier, it seems probable that he, as are the rest of us, was a descendant of Thomas Hine, who is believed to have come over with the Rev. John Davenport, who landed in Boston June 26, 1637. Within two years Thomas Hine removed to Milford, Conn., of which town he was one of the founders. But the genealogy of the family makes no mention of any Philip.
If the Mohawks had lived up to their traditions they would have done better by Philip Hine than tie him up to a tree in the woods and leave him for three days without food or drink, for the Connecticut histories tell how the Mohawks, coming over to Milford on a maraud, about 1645-50, were surprised and defeated by the Milford Indians, who tied one of their captives to a stake planted in the salt meadows and there left him to be eaten by the mosquitoes.
"An Englishman named Hine, who found the poor wretch in this deplorable condition, shocked at this barbarous mode of torture, cut the thongs from his limbs and set him at lib- erty. He then invited him to his house, gave him food, and helped him to escape. This kind act was never forgotten by the Mohawks. They treated the English of Milford ever after with marked civility and did many kind and friendly acts that testified their gratitude toward their deliverer and his family."
Another says :-
"For this simple act of humanity Hine was much endeared to the tribe of the rescued Indian, who believed that the Great Spirit would always watch over and protect the good White Face and his posterity."
Possibly the Indians neglected to ask Philip his name.
Passing through another gate, the lane finally leads down to the Vernoy Kill just before it enters Rondout Creek, and
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here we come on the site where tradition says stood the coun- cil house of the Esopus Indians and other tribes of the Hudson and the Delaware.
In a deed of this land dated in 1699, the following appears: "excepting a certaine part or parcell which is called Anck- erops land running to a Creek where the great wigwam now stands", etc. This is the only record of the council house that Mr. Brink has been able to find.
Under the shadow of the mountain, when the sun is in the west, once lived Benny Depew, in a little old stone house. When the canal had a better circulation than is now the case the place was known as Port Ben. Now it is merely the rail- road station for Wawarsing.
Benny was in many respects a second edition of every- body's friend, Rip Van Winkle, his strong point being a love for that kind of work which counts least in dollars and cents- hunting and fishing and the telling of his adventures to an ad- miring group of neighbors.
But Benny is not our story, he is merely an incident, or an instrument through which the following facts have been pre- served :-
Old Ninety-Nine, an Indian chief, said to be the last sur- viving remnant of the Ninety-Ninth Tribe, and a great hunter and trapper, found in Benny the reincarnated spirit of the brave, whose scorn of the hoe was only equalled by his love of the chase. And to him the proud chief confided the great secret that had been handed down from chief to chief and must die with him.
Whispering that he had an unheard of wonder to show, that not even his own brother could get from him, the chief invited the trapper to go on a trip with him, and one day both
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were quietly swallowed up in the dense forest that then clothed the sides of old Shawangunk.
Climbing among the rocks and ravines of this mountain is no work for a tenderfoot, but both men were equally seasoned, for Benny could follow wherever the Indian led. Up, up they clambered, over rocks and fallen trees until they finally came to a dry channel that during the spring freshets was swept by the melted snow from the heights above.
Here the white man allowed himself to be blindfolded and, after following the water trail for about an hour, the Indian removed the bandage and our explorer found himself at the foot of a high ledge of rocks, but so surrounded by trees that he was unable to locate the spot in the deep gloom of the primeval woods.
As Benny looked about him he saw nothing very wonder- ful. There were, perhaps, a hundred such ledges on the moun- tain, but the muscular old giant led to a great boulder which he pushed one side and exposed to view the mouth of a cav- ern, into whose blackness Benny could only blink in amaze.
Old silent face, lighting a bit of candle, beckoned the now frightened woodsman to follow. These rocks and gullies were full of gnomes and goblins and such a step seemed like beard- ing the lion in his den. But the Indian strode on and the white man was bound to follow, so with trembling fingers he clasped the sleeve of his guide and they pressed forward. Almost im- mediately the passage opened into a great vaulted chamber, when it seemed to Benny as though his fairy godmother must have waived her wand, for beneath his feet were the richest and most costly of rugs and oriental carpets, so thick and soft as to deaden entirely the sound of their heavy tramp, which but a moment before had echoed and re-echoed from the
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rocky walls. While on every side were waving arras of costly tapestry with beautiful vases and rare articles from China and the Ind. standing and lying in profusion, pictures so life- like that the subjects seemed about to start forward to greet the guests or landscapes where the trees appeared to wave in the wind and the brooks to sparkle in the sun.
But the "chief do-over", as our elegant friend Mr. Dooley would say, was an immense chest, over which the Indian swayed his lighted candle and through whose sparkling con- tents his long, claw fingers ran, for it was filled to the brim with all manner of gold and precious jewels, diamonds, rubies and sapphires that glittered and sparkled under the yellow rays of the candle until the whole room seemed to be alight with the flash of their splendor.
Finally the chief awoke Benny from his trance with the announcement that they must return whence they came, and after reaching daylight the great boulder was rolled back and the Indian looked to see that their feet left no sign. Then bandaging Benny's eyes once more, they returned down the mountain.
Ninety-Nine never offered to conduct Benny to the cave again, and so long as the Indian lived his companion feared to search for the place, but the red-skin finally went on his last hunt, and as time passed and he did not return, the desire for the treasure overcame Benny's fear of goblin vengeance, and he finally set out to seek the cave for himself.
He was a good woodsman and easily found the spot at which his eyes had been covered, and he then proceeded to follow the dry run, but soon it began to branch and branch again, and he was lost in a tangle of dry water courses such as he never before knew existed, and it took him some time
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to realize that the guardians of the treasure had spread this network all about to confuse and confound him, but when it was once clear to him what the trouble was he hastened home and never again ventured on the quest, for many a man who has excited the ire of these guardians of the mountain's se- crets had gone on a hunt never to return. And, what is more, their bodies are never found, but on stormy nights when the trees sway and bend to the blast the groans and cries of the lost are plainly heard and it is well known that they had been imprisoned among the branches and trunks of the trees, which took delight in crushing, crushing, crushing until, as the storm increased the tortures of the captives, they groaned aloud in their agony. Every man who knows the woods has often heard these terrifying sounds as the wind has swept the tree tops.
As Benny became old and garrulous the story finally came out bit by bit, but none were found bold enough to undertake the exploration for long years. But in these days when there are many who profess to have no faith in witches and hobgob- lins (a very dangerous and distressing condition, surely,) one will occasionally be found to take up the search.
One such industrious gentleman was reported by the El- lenville Journal some dozen or fifteen years ago as having found the cave. The tapestries and carpets had, of course, long before rotted to dust and many rocks had fallen from the cavern's roof and buried the treasure deep, but our adven- turous friend was intending to pack a backload of good blast- ing powder to the cave with which to uncover the treasure for his own benefit and that of his heirs and assigns forever.
But nothing appears ever to have been heard from the adventurer again and whether he pulled the hole in after him
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and could not get out, or whether the goblins put him to sleep will never be known.
It is possible that some day some one in league with the Devil may be allowed to sign his soul away for the treasure, but probably none but he and his friends will ever know it.
Just how all this treasure, which was loot of the white man, not the Indian, got into this out-of-the-way place, no at- tempt is made to explain, but there is an old legend which tells how Captain Kidd attempted to steal the share of a partner, who staked him for a certain cruise, by running the two re- turned vessels heavily laden with spoil up the Hudson. The contents of one vessel is said to have been carried back into the Catskills and hidden-may not this be it ?- the other being taken further up the river.
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NAPANOCH AND ELLENVILLE.
If we stuck closely to our text, the sixteenthly, or there- about, would be Napanoch, but we will now shake the dust of the highway from our feet and take a woods road over the hill to Honk Lake. Down in the depths sings the Vernoy Kill, while close at hand, or under foot, were wild azalea, straw- berry blossoms and other delectable matters, and on every hand was fresh young birch for the nibbling. At one point was spread a typical picture of the region up the valley of the Kill, a distant background of hills just visible through the mist, the nearer slopes wild and rugged rock and bush, with a group of dark pines in the hollow to accentuate the misty distance.
Now, just as the map said, there came a fork in the road, the middle tine of which was for me, and shortly came the Rondout, on whose bank by the roadside stood an inviting well of pure water. There is nothing that so satisfies as such a draught under such circumstances.
Turning to the left here the creek is crossed at the head of Honk Lake, on whose dark surface floated the skiffs of many patient fishermen. Just after crossing the stream we come upon the site of the "fort at Lackawack", as recently estab- lished by Mr Brink and Mr. Benedict.
Col. John Cantine, whose command lay at Lackawaxen, as a frontier guard, shifted his troops nearer to the seat of
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trouble in August, 1778, building a log fort about where the road now runs along the western side of Honk Lake, this fol- lowing the old Indian trail, but the name of his old post was retained as Lackawack, apparently as a matter of identifica- tion. Col. Cantine sometimes dated his report from "Hunk", sometimes from Lackawack. There appears to be no record of any attack on the fort or fighting in its immediate vicinity, but it was the centre of the horse patrol, which picketed the border from Peenpack to Shandaken at the time when Bur- goyne and Lord Howe were attempting the capture of the Hudson Valley.
The road now makes a point of getting down to the foot of Honk Falls as rapidly as possible and, once there, the trav- eler can readily understand why. The falls, some 60-70 feet high, come dashing down the sloping rocks, an avalanche of foam. Man has interfered very little with the wild beauty of the place. The trees still cling to the steep sides of this cleft in the rocks, the bottom of which is a tumble of great blocks of stone which keep the water agitated. A footpath worn along the eastern bank of the stream brings one to a fair view of the top of the falls, but the most attractive view is part way up its western border where a rock shelf juts out com- manding a full view of the wild beauty. The place must be much as it was in the days of the red man, a romantic spot fit for legend and story. Being translated, Honk Falls is Falls Falls, for hunk, as it was formerly spelled, was Indian for falling water. Is that where the slang expression "to get hunk" with the enemy comes from? One is always ready to take a fall out of him if possible.
We are in Napanoch where the Sandburg and Rondout Creeks become one. The name probably means "land over-
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flowed by water". The highway in the eastern edge of the village is known as "Lost Corners"-there is no apparent cor- ner and nothing lost, so far as can be seen, but the name is supposed to come from a sharp turn in the creek here and the fact that land has been cut out by freshets. Here is an old building, now used as an icehouse, which dates back full two hundred years. It is locally known as the "old fort". Mr. Benedict believes that it was probably stockaded and used as a place of refuge. It was erected by the brothers Bevier, the first white settlers at this spot.
Louis Ravine, or hole, mentioned in "The Indians, or Nar- ratives of Massacres", etc., as the place to which the inhabit- ants of Naponoch fled when no Indian pursued, is the ravine immediately back of the reformatory.
At each fort in the valley one man was always on guard so long as there was any possibility of Indian raid, and it was his duty, when anything suspicious was seen, to fire his gun (it was against the law to fire a gun otherwise than as a sig- nal of danger or in self defense). The signal would be taken up by each guard in turn, and thus in a few moments the alarm was spread from one end of the valley to another, thus giving the inhabitants an opportunity to seek safety in the nearest fort.
The old "Holland guns" used by the early settlers sent forth a boom that was easily distinguishable above the crack of the smaller and lighter arm used by the Indians, and so long as the boom of these great guns could be heard during a fight, it was known that the white men were holding their own. Mr. Ronk possesses one of these weapons, which is fully six feet long and has a bore like a 10-gauge shotgun; in fact this particular gun is the one used by Cornelius Bevier during the
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attack on Wawarsink, and it was with this that he just did not kill two Indians with one shot, as noted in "The Indians", etc.
Mr. Isaiah Rose, of Naponoch, tells me that the old toma- hawk-scarred pulpit of the stone church at Wawarsing, that is commonly supposed to have been burned with the church, was removed from the old church some time before its destruc- tion and brought to Napanoch and stored in the cellar of the church here. The then janitor of the Napanoch church, a mere boy, has confidentially confided the fact to Mr. Rose that one cold morning when he needed kindling to start his fire the old pulpit disappeared. The lad had no appreciation of the historic value of the battered old piece of furniture.
A spring on the river bank immediately back of the hotel in Napanoch gave the Indian name of Topatcoke to the low land here. "To" is Indian for pot, and was applied here be- cause of the peculiarity of the spring, in that while it seemed to boil up, it never overflowed its banks.
A similar spring about a mile up the mountain above Louis Ravine gave the same Indian name to that locality. The meaning of the full name is hidden from me.
Just across the Rondout on the way to Ellenville stands the simple frame cottage which is pointed out as the birth- place of De Witt Clinton.
Somewhere between here and Ellenville village once on a time lived an old woman commonly known as Floor-pos- sibly an abbreviation for Flora, possibly a nick-name, because she could floor most of her men neighbors. Mr. Isaiah Rose remembers to have heard his mother tell how "Floor" could pick up a barrel of cider and drink from the bung. His own mother could pick up a barrel of flour and carry it, which is more than her son can do, so he says.
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Well, back among the trees of the Ellenville burial ground stands a simple stone which perpetuates the fact that "Aunt Dina Hasbrouck Died Oct. 10, 1875, aged over 100 y'rs. She remembered the burning of Kingston by British troops, Oct. 1777".
I spent a day in Ellenville, mostly running over files of the Journal, and thus came by the following valuable piece of information, which a recent Journal had gleaned from one of fifty-five years ago :-
"A young fellow, a Nova Scotian, got on one of the river steamboats who was only nineteen years of age, stood seven feet and nine inches high and weighed four hundred pounds. He had not attained his full growth"-there was more of it, but that is all we need. Now, as I take it, the les- son to be learned by this is that fifty-five years ago a river steamboat that was only nineteen years of age stood seven feet nine inches high and weighed four hundred pounds was something of a novelty, but I am much puzzled over the fact that this wonderful vessel had not attained full growth; here it seems is meat for an antiquarian investigation for some gen- tleman of leisure. Travelers who have been to the Yosemite and to Switzerland tell how the view from the top of Shawangunk surpasses anything to be seen in those regions-why they do it is not divulged, but that they do it is not questioned. This is the country of the falling water. Every little stream, and there are many of them, no matter how high up on the moun- tain it rises, is sure to make for the valley just as rapidly as the atmosphere will let it, and consequently each is a series of falls and cascades.
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"Cloud upon cloud, the purple pinewoods cling to the the rich Arcadian mountains,
All the hues of the gates of heaven flashed from the white en- chanted fountains
Where in the flowery glades of the forest the rivers that sing to Arcadia spring." -[Alfred Noyes.
As one enters the village from the north, the monument commemorating the Fantine Kill massacre is seen on the left. The Indians had learned of the proposed expedition of Gen- erals John Sullivan and James Clinton into their own country and, led by Brant, proposed to give the whites plenty to do nearer home. The attacks on Fantine Kill, May 4th, 1779, and at Minisink on July 22d of the same year, were part of this plan. The Kill flows through the northern skirts of the village and it was along its banks that the first settlers here seem to have lodged; these were the families of Jesse Bevier, the widow of Isaac Bevier and Michael Sax. The two latter families were killed every one, except a feeble minded daughter of Mrs. Bevier, but the house of Jesse Bevier was successfully defended. The attack occurred about daybreak.
During the latter part of 1906 there appeared in the New York papers notices of the discovery of the "Old Spanish Mine" in the Shawangunk Mountain. According to these "Tradition said that from the tunnel ran a stream of living water, and Professor Mather, State Geologist of Ohio, who in- vestigated, accepted the theory that the work was done by Spaniards who formed a part of the Ponce de Leon expedition. After failing to find the Fountain of Youth in Florida, and following their leader's dying injunction to continue the search, they are thought to have made the journey northward.
"When they came to a stream larger than a man's arm rush-
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ing out of solid rock, with no visible source of supply, they halted and began to tunnel to locate the pool whence it came. This was in the sixteenth century. The tunnel was known till recently only by Indian legend.
"One Hinsdale, finding a stream that never varied in its flow or temperature, employed a force of men and uncovered an accumulation of debris. Then he located the mouth of the tunnel itself. It is perfectly formed and the stream gushes from a fissure at the extreme end.
"The tunnel is five hundred feet long, six feet high, four feet wide and straight as an arrow, with only a rise of seven feet in its entire length."
That is the way the newspapers reported it to us. There was a mine, possibly worked in a crude way by Indians, in pre-Dutch days; this was close to the canal lock in Ellenville. When the canal was a-digging, about 1824, it was either dis- covered by some of the Digger White-men or its whereabouts made known to them by a local tribe, and they, after the man- ner of men, concluded to seek for the precious metal, whatever it might be. So a few dollars was contributed and men set to work pecking at hard-hearted old Shawangunk, but a pick- axe on the old fellow's rock ribs makes little impression, and a brief period of such work was enough to cool the ardor of the most enthusiastic. Then came those of larger views, who proposed to purchase several hundred kegs of powder, store them at the far end of the tunnel, which was some three to four hundred feet in extent, tamp it thoroughly and then touch the match which would make the rocks and the moun- tain to all flee away. The explosion would not only loosen the bowels of Ulster County, but was to give New England a shake, while all the world wondered.
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But about now the canal folks stepped in with an injunc- tion which even the best black powder must respect, and soon the project was forgotten, and later the mine itself, the en- trance caved in, bushes and trees grew up, completely hiding all traces of the ancient diggings.
Folks have a way of dying in Ellenville and a new gen- eration arose who knew not the Spanish Mine. So completely was its memory obliterated that when, some thirty years later, traces of lead and silver were discovered in nearby rocks and a new mine was opened, it was done in ignorance of the earlier effort; this time also much more money was sunk in the ground than was brought therefrom and another set of men were poorer and wiser, while the old mine slept on.
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