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 7
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Then came a professor who knew a thing or two. He was to investigate the later mine as an adjunct to the Columbia School of Mines, and while poking around in the inquisitive way professors have, he stumbled on a spring of water that, to his scientific mind, was in some manner different from what a spring in such a place ordinarily is, and the professor put a padlock on his talking machine and started a little investiga- tion on the professor's account, after which, like the man in the parable, he sold all that he had and bought that field, and then the professor took off the padlock, and now a hundred- thousand-dollar plant is going up, for the water is more excel- lent even than that famed soap, which is but 99-44-100 pure.
So much for the facts. What follows is not so well au- thenticated and may not interest those who prefer dry statis- tics as above, to what reads more like fiction.
Legend of the Old Spanish Mine .- Long before the Dutch knew the "Great River of the Mountains" as Henry Hudson so poetically and accurately named it, a Spanish galleon bound
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for the gold of Peru met contrary breezes which wafted the ship far from its course. Great damage was done to ship and rigging, and when an unknown coast came in view a harbor was diligently sought, but the long sandy stretch of shore of- fered no safe anchorage and the Spaniard coasted north against an icy wind that froze his thin blood and finally found an opening where the good ship lay at rest behind what we now know as Sandy Hook, but this was no place for repairs and an exploration was started up the great bay, and by little and little the bay narrowed to a great river, whose rocky shores forbade the thought of pulling the little vessel out for repairs, and so with the spirit of adventure newly awakened, the black beards kept on and on until finally they came to a sandy, shelving shore with the great forest at hand for the making of new spars for the patched sails and planks for the damaged hull.
A copper colored people, who wore furs and feather robes, gathered to see this wonder. Every man came armed with primitive weapons, but so friendly were they that the visitors were soon on the best of terms with the Indians, who brought game and corn and in return received trinkets that appealed to their sense of the esthetic. Among these trinkets were some bright copper baubles that when the natives saw imme- diately excited a great powwow, much gesticulation and many pointings toward the distant mountains. The Spaniards, on gold intent, drew such conclusions from these antics as pleased them most, and by signs finally made their new found friends understand that they wished to be taken over the mountain where the glitter grew.
And so repairs finished and the ship launched, an expedition was started toward the golden unknown. The sailors found
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that threading the rock fastnesses of the Shawangunk was quite a different matter from pacing level Spanish decks, and more than one fell by the way, for life was unimportant when gold was leading the dance.
It was a toilsome journey for those used only to the level decks of a vessel, but once over the hills our adventurers found themselves amidst great fields of growing corn in a beautiful rich valley that warmed every heart, and now the expedition turned south, following a well worn footpath along the bank of a beautiful rushing stream until the guides, turning aside among the trees, stopped, and lo! before the excited explorers was a shaft into the hillside.
Getting out the ore was a simple job, but how to get it to the smelter was a complicated question. To transport it the way they had come was manifestly impossible; a road must be found and the dusky friends were again appealed to, and now they led down the valley to our Rondout and passed its fertile meadows to the great river, and so the first white feet pressed the Old Mine Road, an older Indian trail.
The forests contributed more water then than do the rav- aged lands of to-day, and it was thought that light flat boats could be floated from mine to ship, but this proved impracti- cable and a road was constructed. Then rumors of more mine holes were brought to the greedy adventurers, and while some delved others explored, finally locating another mine in the country of the Minisinks, and the road was extended to meet the new want.
The recently discovered documents which, while sadly mu- tilated, tell us this, end suddenly, almost in the middle of a sentence, but before they quite cease there are indications that the natives had grown cold and that trouble was brewing, and
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the supposition is that the red men finally fell on the gold seekers and slew them every one.
But all this occurred so long ago that there was no tradi- tion concerning these happenings among the Indians on the second coming of the whites, and we must rest content with the story as it is.
The following events occurred so far back that there are probably few who now recall them; hence a brief statement of the known facts is given to introduce what has never been more than whispered before :-
A young telegraph operator, one David M. Smith, who was in the office of the canal company, disappeared suddenly on a Saturday night in February, 1866, and so completely that no trace of him could be found.
Through an odd combination of circumstances, those in Ellenville supposed he had gone for a short visit to his mother who lived near the covered bridge at Port Jackson, while the mother, though expecting him, presumed he had been detained by extra work. Thus for an entire week his disappearance was not discovered, and when the search was taken up the trail was cold.
There was no reason why he should have voluntarily dropped out in such a mysterious manner. And then he took nothing with him-even left certain letters that should have been destroyed or carried off.
Smith was well liked by young and old, but was something of a roysterer and had some evil companions but no enemies, except possibly one Flicker, a German, with whom he had quarreled over a girl, and who later went crazy and eventually died in the asylum at Ovid.
Prolonged search and even advertising failed to discover
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the slightest clew to his whereabouts, and the case was finally passed into the list of unexplained mysteries.
Thirteen years later, in March, 1879, the old Ulster lead mine was reopened, after having lain idle many years, and when the debris was removed from the entrance, human re- mains were found which were identified as those of Smith.
Up to the time of removing this debris the only access to the drift of the old mine was by means of a shaft which led straight down from among the rocks of the mountain side to its inner end, the outer end having been effectually choked by fallen rocks.
It was recalled that the night of the disappearance was bitter cold; the point at which the shaft opened among the rocks was rough and inaccessible, and it was wholly unlikely that Smith would have gone to such a spot on such a night.
This is all that is known.
What follows appears to have been kept quiet, and few ever had any knowledge of this strangest part of the tale, though it must have at least in part reached the editor of the Journal, as in the issue of March 28, 1879, he says: "No meas- ures have been taken to ascertain the manner of young Smith's death, * * and nothing is likely to be done about it, although * a solution of the mystery would not re- quire a miracle by any means."
The company soon supplied the vacancy made by Smith's disappearance with a young woman from a New York school, this being her first post; but she proved quick and capable and soon had the details of her work well in hand.
Now there had been a one-sided love affair, in which this girl had taken a disinterested part, the enthusiasm mostly lying with a youth attending the school with her. However,
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it takes a good deal to dampen the fires of young love, and as the lad was the first of the two to graduate into a position, he slipped a picture of himself between the leaves of a book belonging to the girl, in the hope that some time it might help to turn the tide in his favor.
As it happened the young man secured a position with the canal company in Port Jervis and, of course, was in daily touch with Ellenville. He knew of the disappearance of Smith and of the employment of a young woman in his stead, but did not get her name and never suspected that this was his first and only love.
So much by way of introduction.
As it will serve no good purpose to give the girl's name, she will be known in this narrative as Miss Smith. She made friends with every one who came in contact with her, including the German, Flicker, who was one of her earliest admirers, and who frightened off a number of the more timid youth who apparently thought they had an inkling that she was made for them.
Flicker was a newly made man from the moment of his acquaintance with Miss Smith. A younger son of a good family and well educated, he had long ago gone to the dogs, losing every outward sign of refinement, and his old acquaint- ances hardly knew him in this, to them, new role, while the girl's first impression of dislike rapidly changed to one of a wholly different nature, even before she was fully aware of it and when, in one of her idle moments, he dropped in and be- gan a conversation which opened wide her eyes with astonish- ment and pleasure at his evident refinement, the battle was half won.
But while they were yet talking a most singular and un-
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canny thing happened: The telegraph key began to click, but in a fashion that even to a novice indicated something unusual, and the girl was puzzled and somewhat frightened, exclaim- ing: "This is extraordinary-terrible! No human being can be at the other end of this wire; but, whoever it is, he says murder has been committed. Much I cannot make out; only now and then a word or a phrase. [Then reading]: 'I was thrown down a deep h-o-l-e i-n t-h-e r-o-c-k-s a-n-d m-y' -- now it is unintelligible again." Flicker was at first frightened beyond the power of moving, but managed to cover his con- fusion and left as quickly as possible.
It was some days before he ventured around again, but when he did he was met by a curious look and a remark that some very singular and disjointed messages had been coming to her that constantly warned her against some German, whose name she never caught. The operator at times tele- graphed like a professional but complained that he was lying doubled up and had not the free use of his hand. The horror again crept over Flicker, but he pulled himself together and asked if she had the name of the operator. No; she had asked for it, but could not untangle the answer.
Oddly enough she could not tell whether the messages came from the north or the south, but was strongly of the impres- sion that they came down an almost disused line that ran up the mountain side, until she learned that there was no one along this line now. The instrument clicked again and she. read: "H-e- i-s n-o-w w-i-t-h" -. "There", said she, "how is it possible to make anything out of that?" But Flicker had. vanished.
The German kept away for a long time and the strange messages ceased. But now another inexplicable thing hap-
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pened. The young man at Port Jervis awoke one night from a sound sleep with a feeling that he was wanted, but where or by whom he had no intimation. He was, however, impelled to dress and go out into the stillness of the night. Naturally he walked toward the telegraph office-his steps led that way every day-and as naturally he unlocked the door and entered, and was surprised to hear the click of his instrument. There was then no night work along the line and no one ever thought of calling up after hours.
The key clicked out: "Y-o-u a-r-e w-a-n-t-e-d, t-h-e-r-e i-s n-o t-i-m-e t-o b-e 1-0-s-t, t-h-e o-n-e y-o-u 1-o-v-e i-s i-n d-a-n-g-e-r." He called back to know who it was and where, but the only answer was: "H-e-r-e. H-u-r-r-y! h-u-r-r-y !! h-u-r-r-y !!! " There was an indescribable manner in the send- ing of the message that thrilled the young fellow. He never doubted but that it was intended for him and that the one he was to help was his only love, for he had not forgotten her; but what could he do? Where was she? Could she be an operator up the line? There was the girl at Ellenville-he had never known who she was. It flashed on him like an inspira- tion, and without stopping to reason the matter out he started for his saddle horse, an old friend and tough, who was accus- tomed to some pretty rough traveling.
To saddle the horse and start for the towpath of the canal -the best bridle path in the world, and one he was well ac- quainted with for a large part of the thirty odd miles to be covered-was but the work of a few moments. His excite- ment was quickly communicated to the horse and they were soon racing through the night, the rider doing all he could to ease the work of the animal, knowing that the strain would be very great before the end came.
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It began to be noticed that Flicker was growing more and more moody. He had long ago forsaken his old haunts, but now he was never seen except as his work required it, and he was known to spend his Sundays and spare time by himself in the woods, but most people rather feared, and none liked, him. Thus he went his own way undisturbed and was little seen and less missed.
Presumably in one of these rambles he discovered a sort of cave formed by fallen rock masses in a secluded ravine, in the back part of which was a peculiar spring that apparently boiled up, yet never ran over, similar to those that have given Indian names to the flats at Napanoch and to a part of the mountain above. Just when the idea came to Flicker is, of course, not known, but he evidently conceived the crazy no- tion of abducting the girl to this cave and holding her pris- oner until she would consent to marry him, as later discover- ies showed he stocked the place with necessaries enough to last months.
And now everything in readiness, he began to lay his plans. He regularly watched the girl go back and forth between her home and office until he knew every inch of the route; he also paid attention to the house, which stood near the canal, a short half mile south of the telegraph office, until he knew the room she occupied and just what other rooms were used as bedrooms-knew the habits of all its people, in fact no little detail lacked attention. And on the very night that the strange message came to Port Jervis, Flicker had prepared to carry out his plan.
One of the inmates of the house was taken sick this night and it was not until 2 o'clock that the last light went out and all was still, and by 2 o'clock horse and rider were passing
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through Wurtsboro, only twelve miles away. The pace had been a fast one and both were well done up. Many people had risen from their beds to gaze out into the darkness and wonder who it was and what the trouble.
Flicker thought that a half hour should be sufficient for all to be asleep, and in due time proceeded to the window of the girl's room, but found that a screen placed therein had been fastened, and it took twenty minutes or more to remove this. Then he had disturbed the sleeper and must wait for her to quiet again. Horse and rider by now are sweeping down through Spring Glen. Finally the abductor entered the room, smothered the girl's cries, and before she could make a sound was out of the window with his prize in his arms.
The night had been dark and starless; there had been some lightning on the horizon; but even while the desperado was at work the storm so rapidly approached that the incessant thunder drowned every other sound and the telegraph wires becoming surcharged with the electric fluid blazed with a steady light, enough to readily illumine the path and the canal. The storm had terrified the already wild horse, until every ounce of strength was put into this, his last mad run, and as the pair bore down on him, the startled German only saw an avenging angel flashing down from on high, to his startled vision a huge god scourging his horse with the forked light- ning which seemed to emanate from the raised hand, and be- lieving his time had come he relinquished his hold on the girl and fled.
To transfer the girl back to the shelter of the house was but the work of a moment, but to the anxious lover it seemed long hours before she was returned to consciousness again. Then the young couple had an all too short moment together,
1
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but though brief there was time for hurried explanations and a prompt yes, and soon the minister replaces the doctor.
The wild night has gone out in peace, the air is full of sunshine and the damp smell of the woods; but matters must still move rapidly for the young couple. There is no leave of absence at Port Jervis. Fortunately, however, a substitute is at hand for Ellenville, and such a bridal party as the old canal never bore before was floating swiftly southward while a very tired horse, gaily decked with the bridal wreath, was placidly munching sugar with his oats and paying small attention to the swiftly changing beauties of nature which were spread around with such lavish hand. And so ends a very singular little romance.
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LEUREN KILL TO BASHA'S KILL.
The twenty-eighth milestone stands within the southern confines of Ellenville.
Some two miles out of Ellenville the Leuren Kill crosses the road. The name, it is said, means "Trading Post Brook", hence it is to be supposed that in the early days there was a country store here, but apparently there is not even a tradi- tion concerning it. Back from the road and near the bank of the Kill, but not to be seen from the highway, stands a house that looks as though it was one of the old guard. This was built at the beginning of the French and Indian War by Con- rad Bevier, so says the widow of his grandson, Cornelius, who died thirty years ago. Mrs. Bevier, who now lives in Ellen- ville, tells the following story: One night during the French and Indian War, Conrad Bevier was called to Wawarsing and was compelled to leave his wife alone in the house. A good supply of wood was provided, the windows were securely fastened by blocks of wood and the door heavily barred.
During the dark hours a party of about six Indians at- tempted to enter the house, and on failing to break through, climbed to the roof with intent to descend by the chimney, but Mrs. Bevier anticipating thus had kept a hot fire burning, which amply protected this means of ingress. The Indians, however, being endowed with the virtues of patience and hope, waited in the belief that the supply of wood could not hold out,
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remaining constantly on the roof, and sure enough the wood did run low and the fire began to die down. But Mrs. Bevier had prepared for this emergency by ripping open two mat- tresses stuffed with straw, and when the Indians made the attempt to enter she sent a roaring flame up the chimney which gave them pause. Several times they made the at- tempt, but each time were met in the same way, and finally as morning began to dawn the assailants drew off.
Conrad Bevier later sold this house and built the stone house which to-day stands well back from and south of the main road in Napanoch (not the "Old Fort").
The old house on the Leurenkill may have been sold to a Newkirk, certainly a member of this family occupied it at an early date, then came the Freers under its roof, then the Brod- heads, and for the last fifty years it has been in the possession of the Jackson S. Schultz family, of New York.
Rev. Matt. C. Julien remembers hearing his mother (born 1809) tell of the parties for which the house was celebrated throughout the countryside when she was a girl; in her time it was known as the Brodhead house. There is a delicate little fall in the Kill near the house, and a rough bridge, all of which looked good to the camera, but the result indicated that color had more to do with the picture than had light and shade.
Possibly a mile beyond the Leurenkill stands the old Brod- head house-1753. The rising generation (he has yet some distance to rise, as he has only been at it ten or a dozen years) is the ninth in the Brodhead line that has inhabited the house without a break.
The house was, of course, loopholed, but sixty or more years ago it was rejuvenated as to its outer walls with a coat of "dash", and of course the loopholes were then plastered over.
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Probably it was at this time that the old double Dutch door, which bore silent witness of Indian attack in numerous hacks made by their tomahawks, disappeared into the kindling wood pile.
Across the road on a slight elevation are the graves of forty-six of the Brodhead slaves. And the women folks say that so recently as within a month or two, more or less, they have seen a bear in the corn patch opposite-it was surely a bear because it was black and acted like one-though those made of sterner stuff incline to sniff at the suggestion, hint- ing that it was merely a black dog gone astray. However, I prefer to think that it was a bear.
In October, 1757, a few Cayugas persuaded some of the Indians along the Delaware to join them in a raid. On the 12th they appeared at the house of Peter Jan, in what is now Sullivan County. Two soldiers posted in the neighborhood as scouts were killed, as also one of Jan's daughters. Jan and two sons, at work in a field, escaped. Another soldier in the house with Jan's wife and two remaining daughters, success- fully defended the place, and when the Indians retired he took the woman and girls to the house of Captain Brodhead, a mile distant. The Indians then returned and burned the Jan house.
This was a glorious day after the storm. Old Shawan- gunk looked like an Indian chief wrapped in his cloak of feath- ers. The foliage was just beginning to open-it is the month of May-so that, including the blue above, there are all the colors of the rainbow, possibly subdued a bit. More varieties of greens and yellows and reds than could be counted: it is all scrub except for an occasional tall dark spruce that looked like a buttonhole in the old fellow's jacket. Beneath him was spread a fine green velvet carpet, woven in pictures of meadow
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lands with houses and cattle, stone walls and files of trees, a great picture of prosperity and plenty.
At first our way leads up the valley of the Sandberg Creek, and when that takes to the woods at Spring Glen the Homo- wack takes its place. This is Indian for "the water runs out", and may refer to the fact that this is the crown of the valley from which the water flows both north and south, for it is not long before we take up with Basha Kill which, with the help of the Neversink, eventually finds its way into the Delaware, as the Homowack does into the Hudson.
At Phillipsport the old canal bed comes over to our side of the valley, and we are treated to a series of abandoned locks and canal scenes. At one point a brook of considerable vol- ume has made itself at home in the old canal bed.
A brief outline of the romance of the Delaware and Hud- son Canal is interesting, for even in such a dry document as a State Engineer's Report (see Appendix) a thread of romance insists on weaving its way through the statistics.
A Philadelphia merchant who enjoyed close communion with nature makes his way on foot up into the northeastern corner of his state with knapsack and blanket and an axe in his belt for the evening's firewood, camping where night over- takes him, apparently not for the purpose of hunting or even fishing, but because of his love of the freedom and the grandeur of mountain and forest.
And as he walks he notes a black stone cropping out here and there and, being of an inquiring turn of mind, though no geologist, he picks up a piece now and then, taking a few bits home where he and his brothers learn somehow that it will burn; then being thrifty and persistent the Wurts brothers desire to know more about this curiosity, and William goes
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back and manages to get out a few tons, builds him a raft and attempts to get his "stone-coal" down the river for the further enlightenment of his brothers and himself.
After losing several cargoes against rocks, or amidst rap- ids, by persistent effort he manages finally to get a raft through. His neighbors seem to have looked on his foolish waste of effort with smiling toleration, but with an unconcern that must have been exasperating to the enthusiast, though it dampened not his ardor. We can imagine him going about among his friends telling how this black stone burned and gave out a good heat and must have great value; but most folks had burned wood, and their fathers before them; where- fore then should they fly in the face of Providence by going against the traditions of their fathers? Fie on the dreamer! We will none of him.
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