USA > New York > New York City > Walks in our churchyards; old New York, Trinity Parish > Part 8
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
In those days I used to think St. John's Chapel the handsomest of ecclesiastical edifices and even
154
WALKS İN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
its pulpit had a stateliness which was most impres- sive to the youthful mind. The backs of the pews were high and the doors were fastened by a but- ton or a spring lock on the inside, so that the householder could fence himself in and defy the entrance of any spiritual tramp. For the latter there were six pews set apart at the foot of each aisle, three on each side, which were slightly raised above the rest and bore conspicuously on their doors the legend "For Strangers." I remember that I used to look at the occupants of these pews with a sort of patronizing pity, as being a sort of shabby-genteel Christians at best. Now nearly every pew is free and the sanctuary is glorious within and resonant with music to which it was then a stranger. In those days, pulpit, reading desk and chancel stood out conspicuously from the bare white wall of the original edifice, and were encircled with a mahogany chancel rail. It was a triple affair and curious in its way. At the base stood the altar or communion table of wood painted white and topped with purple velvet and two large purple cushions to hold the prayer books. Above this rose the reading desk, which was a pew in which at afternoon service the minis-
155
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
ters entered, clad in surplice and black silk gown respectively and gravely shut the door and but- toned themselves in. The third story was the pulpit, which was on a level with the galleries and was entered by a door in the rear. I can recall vividly the delight with which I waited for the reappearance of the preacher through this door during the singing of the last verse of the hymn and my still greater delight when it was announced by Major Jonathan Lawrence, a revolutionary sol- dier and member of the vestry that in consequence of sudden indisposition there would be no sermon that afternoon.
It was an age of upholstery decoration in churches, and while the huge square windows were in plain glass, and the Corinthian columns of the interior were as dazzling white as the walls, there was a profusion of velvet and woolen fur- nishings visible on all sides. Owners of pews upholstered them in such colors and materials as they pleased, cushioning the backs and making them otherwise as comfortable as was possible. The result was as large a variety of hues as in the woods in October. Some of the old-fashioned square pews which still remained in the side aisles
156
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
and galleries were set out with cushions, footstools and little tables to hold books, in such a manner as to make children in other pews envious of their superior adaptedness to purposes of repose. The organ stood in the rear gallery and the singing was " performed " by a mixed choir of men and women who were hidden from view by curtains of purple velvet.
Bold and sagacious minds planned the building of St. John's Chapel. When the corner-stone was laid in 1803 the locality was a swamp, over- grown with brush and still inhabited by frogs and snakes. In front of it a sandy beach stretched down to the river whose waters then came up to Greenwich Street. The church was completed and consecrated in 1807 and by that time the neighborhood had undergone a trans- formation. St. John's Park, which fifty years ago was the loveliest of the city's pleasure grounds, had been laid out and houses were springing up around it and attracting wealthy landowners and merchants from the neighborhood of old St. Paul's and Trinity Church. When the century had reached its first quarter the locality was the most fashionable in the city, at the second quarter its
157
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
decay had begun and when the park had vanished the neighborhood had been given over to the stranger, and he came forward and occupied the front pews.
Now I know not a soul in the congregation. But looking back to my boyhood, I can recall the faces that rose up around our pew Sunday after Sunday, and they seem now to have grown old. Our pew was on the north aisle, well up towards the front. In front was the pew of Dr. Hunter, our family physician, who lived on Hud- son Street, and died of cholera during the visita- tion of that epidemic in 1849. The Randolphs and Clifts sat still further in front. At our right, in the middle aisle, were Gen. Dix and his family, the widow and children of old General Jacob Mor- ton and the Schuylers. The Lydigs sat in a large, square pew on the other side of the north aisle and nearly opposite us. Everybody knew the honored widow of Alexander Hamilton and the family of John C. Hamilton, whose residence was on Beach Street. Bowie Dash, then my schoolmate, now a vestryman of Trinity Parish, lived at the corner of Laight and Varick Streets, and came duly to church, like myself and all other boys of the
158
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
period, twice a day. But the catalogue of names is growing out of proportion to my present space. Other attendants at old St. John's were the Clark- sons, Hyslops, Cammanns, Swords, Van Der Heu- villes, Hoffmans, Crugers, the families of John J. Morgan and Dr. Hosick, the Drakes, Kembles, Manys, Lorillards, Ostranders, Wilkes, Cotheals, Bibbys, Harveys and Lawrences. A single paper would not suffice for reminiscences of those famous old New Yorkers who worshipped here. Not long ago I came across a description of St. John's written by a traveler who made the ac- quaintance of the city in 1839. He says : "St. John's is one of the most magnificent churches in the country. It is ornamented in front with a portico and four columns in the Corinthian style, which are based on a flight of steps above the street; and from the roof of the portico and the church is built the lofty and splendid spire, to the height of 240 feet."
Even as these words are set down, there is a whisper that the old chapel which was the admira- tion of three successive generations, will vanish before the hand of improvement and that a new and more magnificent edifice will replace it on the
159
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
site that Trinity Parish has been holding for forty years at Hudson and Clarkson Streets for that purpose. The only element of uncertainty is the determination of certain parties, unfriendly to the church, to have the spot seized for a public park. It is the old story of Naboth's Vineyard. An adjoining block, larger and better adapted to the purpose, has been offered at a reasonable figure, but the political children of Naboth are determined to have that particular spot, by force of law if necessary, even though its occupation by them shall tear the dead from their graves and compel the destruction of the trees that have twined their roots around the coffins and boxes of the buried thousands who sleep there.
There have been no interments in the grounds of St. John's Chapel, but at the time the church was projected, a plot bounded by Hudson, Leroy and Clarkson Streets was set apart by the vestry as a place of burial and has always since been known by the name of "St. John's Burying Ground." It is a rural appellation, suggestive of the day when Greenwich Village was a distinct settlement, and its villas and farm houses clustered in sight of the little cemetery. The people who
160
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
attended St. John's Chapel never took kindly to the little rustic cemetery. Many of them owned vaults in the churchyards of Trinity and St. Paul's, or elsewhere, and not one of the families that I have named is represented in the quaint old Clarkson Street plot. Yet there have been more than ten thousand interments there and eight hundred monuments stand over the dead. The first entry on the parish register is "John Erving, aged 35 years, who was buried October 2, 1814," but some of the graves are older than that and one of the tombstones bears date of 1803. From 1830, when burials were forbidden in all ceme- teries below Canal Street, interments were frequent here, but they ceased by law some twenty years later, and since that time have only occurred in the case of owners of vaults. The monuments are seldom elaborate, but sometimes the tombs bear the masonic device, or the old-time figures of a weeping woman, an urn and a willow.
The most striking of the monuments was erected by Engine Company 13 of the old Volun- teer Fire Department, to the memory of Eugene Underhill and Frederick A. Ward, who lost their lives by the falling of a wall while engaged in
16I
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
their duties as firemen in 1834. A sarcophagus, surmounted by a stone coffin, bears on its apex a fireman's cap, torch and trumpet. One of the best preserved stones bears the inscription : " Captain Peter Taylor, who departed this life April 16, 1846, in the 73d year of his age. Long has he braved the stormy sea. He was known for skill as a man of his profession. At last he has cast anchor in a safe harbor, the broad bay of sweet repose." There is a cut of a fouled anchor at the head of the stone. An old cracked and broken brown stone slab, with the masonic em- blem of the square and compass at the top, bears the record " Artemus B. Brookins, April 9, 1824, aged 6 months and 5 days." Early initiated and passed ; one day to be raised.
There are not many people of renown or whose memory has outlived their day and generation, buried here. In one of the vaults rest the ashes of William E. Burton, the comedian, whose theatre was in Chambers Street, and whose acting was the delight of the fashionable folk who lived around St. John's Park. He died in 1858 and the last years of his life were passed in his luxurious home on Hudson Street, near Laight. Here too
162
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
sleeps Naomi, wife of Thomas Hamblin, a dis- tinguished actor and a contemporary of Burton. The inscriptions on the tombstones are often rustic and quaint, breathing an air of simplicity such as suggests the village life that takes the world into its confidence. Some of the records are those : " George Shepley, who fell a victim to intermittent fever, 1803; Frederick Gordon, calico engraver, 1812; John Black, bookseller, 1830, beloved by all who knew him." And how pleasant it is to meet here in shadow land a man who is not ashamed to let other people know that he loved his wife and that her price was above rubies, and who has made the stone to tell her praises thus : " Mrs. Elizabeth Lawrence, wife of Mr. John Law- rence, merchant of New York, a pattern of exalted goodness."
Among other interments are : " John Nichols, 1822; Elizabeth Moore, 1824; Nicholas Halsted, 1824; Thomas W. Ustic, 1845; Maria Speed, 1823 ; James E. Crane, 1829; Alexander Dugan, 1824; John Bensar, 1837; Leonard Patus, 1836; James Berrian, 1828 ; Mary Legget, 1812 ; J. N. Whitehead, 1835 ; Gabriel Grenolier, 1813 ; John Summeslays, 1820, and Cornelius Mour, 1808."
163
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
One stone is erected by sorrowing shipmates to the memory of a lad of twenty-one, who was " drowned from the Sir E. Hamilton, July, 1833." Apparently from those records in stone the sleepers in St. John's Burying Ground were not classed when living with the " Upper Ten Thous- and," but none the less is their tomb sacred and the dust they laid down in death deserving of rescue from profanation. The old parish that gave the ground for graves for her children, has thrown her loving arms around their dust to protect it, and if the monuments are uprooted the shame of it will not lie at her doors.
I had hoped to finish my walks in the new Trinity Cemetery at Manhattanville and to speak of those who sleep in that beautiful city of the dead. But the season has passed and my feet have delayed in older haunts. There sleep the pioneer John Jacob Astor, founder of the family, the gallant soldier Gen. John A. Dix, hero of the wars, who lived to see his son the honored rector of old Trinity, and there were gathered under the sod later representations of nearly every eminent family in the parish. There, too, amid a group of descendants, sleeps my grandmother, the
164
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
grandmother of whom I have written much, and close by is another friend of my boyhood, who was more than four-score years my senior, and with whom I delighted to talk. He sleeps on the spot where he had once fought for his king in the fierce skirmishes that preluded the capture of Fort Washington. Old John Battin, cornet in the British horse, married and settled in this city after the war was ended, gave three of his descendants to the ministry of the church, and died about the time I entered college, at an age that had passed the century limit. He was one hundred years old when he fell asleep.
The soldier of the king and the soldier of the republic slumber peacefully side by side in sight of the Hudson. There are no enmities in the grave and no remembrance of the strife that is past. The tiniest babe beneath the sod becomes the equal of the mightiest of warriors and the wisest of sages.
TRINITY HOSPITAL.
XIII.
IN reading the " Reminiscences of Grant Thor- burn," not long ago, I came across an unconscious tribute to the faithfulness of the clergy and peo- ple of Trinity Parish which was the more striking because it had been penned by a sturdy and un- compromising Scotch Covenanter. Mr. Thorburn was clerk in the Scotch Presbyterian Church in Cedar Street, of which the famous Dr. Mason was pastor at the beginning of the century, and so strict was their orthodoxy that he was once " sus- pended from psalm-singing," as he phrases it, for having shaken hands with Thomas Paine. When the yellow fever desolated the city in 1798, he remained after nearly everybody had fled and ministered to the sick and dying. Under date of "Sabbath, September 16," he says: "All the churches down-town, known by the name of Orthodox and Reformed, being shut up, the poor, who could not fly, were glad to pick up what little crumbs of Gospel comfort they could find in the good old church of the Trinity, which was open every Sabbath. As the bell was tolling for afternoon service, Mr. T. and his wife, and myself
165
166
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
and wife (we had all been married within the year,) were walking among the tombs; as we turned the east corner Mrs. T., who was a lively girl, turned her husband around and exclaimed in a sort of playful manner, ' If I die of the fever you must bury me there,' pointing to the spot opposite Pine Street. Next she was reported and on Friday, the 2Ist, he buried her there, and where you may see her gravestone until this day." Again, in writing of the terrible Asiatic cholera in 1832, he says that the clergy of Trinity came down as the bell tolled, on horseback or in a carriage, " tied the horse to one of the trees, said their prayers, read their sermons and so went home again-thus they kept their churches open all the fever of 1798." The sturdy old Cov- enanter liked neither prayer book nor written ser- mon, but he was too honest to withhold his meed of praise from the men who did their duty in the face of death. Reading their record I honor the fearless preachers of the cross who thus stood between the living and the dead, and I bless God out of a thankful heart for this grand old parish which has stood for two centuries as a strong de- fence of the faith, a refuge for the sick and sor-
167
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
rowing, a witness to divine law and order, and a daily preacher of that charity which thinketh no evil of the man God made.
I have dwelt long in the quiet paths of the parish churchyards and lingered over the mossy epitaphs which are part of the story of the land we live in as well as the metropolis that has grown up around them. It is pleasant to pause under the trees and think to what peaceful end their unquiet lives have come. But even as I pause, there comes to me the echo of the city's roar and tumult and the thought of the living and as it swells in my ear I remember notonly what has been done by Trinity Parish, since its first rector, the Rev. William Vesey first held divine service on the sixth of February, 1697, in the small, square stone edifice just erected on the edge of the little city, in the upper part of the Broad Way, but what is doing now. The story of the dead would be incomplete without the record of the living,
" One army of the living God At His command we bow : Part of the host have crossed the flood And part are crossing now."
It is to be repeated that the outside world
168
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
should not take much notice of Trinity Parish or measure the wide field of its work, but I wonder how many of those who take part in its service or are numbered with its congregation understand what is its real relation to the community at its doors and how extensive is its influence, direct or indirect, on men and morals. Trinity Parish is a diocese in itself-an imperium in imperio-and no man can measure the extent of its silent influence for good, even when all the figures are marshalled before his eyes. The grain of the mustard seed, dropped in a little Dutch city of the New World, has become a great tree, whose branches reach up to the heaven or in whose shade the weary ones of earth rest and refresh themselves. The one church of 1697 has become eight churches in 1892, six chapels in the city, in addition to the parent church, and an additional chapel on Gov- ernor's Island in New York Harbor. The first chapel built by the parish, St. George's in Beek- man Street, which was opened by the Rev. Mr. Barclay, Rector of Trinity Church, July 2, 1756 -the mayor, recorder, aldermen, common council and other distinguished citizens being present- became long ago an independent church, and is
169
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
now one of the strongest and most useful in the city. Gathered about old Trinity to-day are the chapels of St. Paul, St. John, Trinity, St. Chrysos- tom, St. Augustine and St. Agnes. In three of these chapels the sittings are entirely free and in two others very nearly so, while the doors and pews of old Trinity are never closed to those who wish to enter and worship. Nor are any of these mission chapels for the poor, but all, rich and poor, share alike in the best service which the rector and vestry can provide to make the Lord's sanctuary glorious within.
Nor is Trinity Parish in any degree selfish, or bent on seeking her own, but is mindful to an extreme of her obligations to the city in which she is as a light set up on a hill. St. Luke's Church on Hudson Street, one of the last existing monuments of quaint old Greenwich Village, still receives an allowance of $10,000 a year and All Saint's Church, on the lower east side is kept alive and at work by an annual payment amounting to $7,300. Other churches which receive annual aid from the corporation of Trinity Parish are St. Clement's, West Third Street; Holy Martyrs, Forsyth Street; the Church of the Epiphany,
170
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
East 50th Street; St. Peter's, in old Chelsea Vil- lage; Holy Apostles, in Ninth Avenue ; St. John the Evangelist, West 11th Street; St. Ann's Church for deaf mutes ; St. Ambrose, St. Philip's Church with its colored congregation ; All Angels and St. Timothy's. Donations and allowances are also made generously to other churches, missions and objects of benevolence, which swell the ap- propriations made by the Vestry, in the last year reported, for objects outside the Parish, to almost forty thousand dollars.
Turning to the parochial statistics, which to thoughtful persons are an unanswerable proof of the good work accomplished, they tell a remark- able story. The communicants of the parish numbered at the last report six thousand. Com- parisons are invidious, but if one cares to take up a church almanac and make a comparison, it will be a matter of surprise to find how many dioceses fail to come up to the statistical standard of this quiet but sleepless old parish. The total number of baptisms for the year are I, II4; confirmed, 504 ; marriages, 318; burials, 617; Sunday school teachers, 290; scholars, 3,457; teachers of daily parish schools, 21, scholars, 692; teachers
171
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
of parish night schools, 10, scholars, 352; and the industrial school report in addition II I teachers and 1,118 scholars. The figures are eloquent of what is being accomplished for the community as well as for the church and tell for themselves with what sincere conscientiousness the corpo- ration acts as the almoners of the stewardship committed to their care. The collections and contributions throughout the Parish, amounted to $61,213.25 ; the appropriations by the Vestry for Parish purposes, to $44,479.21, and the appro- priations for outside purposes, to $39,278.89, making a grand total for the year of $144,971.35. And this answers, better than a column of ex- planation, the question often asked by many, as to what Trinity Parish does with its income.
The services and work of the Parish are suffi- cient to give ample employment to the seventeen clergymen on the staff of the rector, the Rev. Dr. Dix. The work is so varied and far-reaching that it is next to impossible to classify it. There are connected with Trinity Church, for instance, daily parish and night schools, guilds for boys and young men, with a membership of 217 ; for girls and women, with a membership of 302 ; a mission
172
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
to Germans under charge of a German minister ; a Ladies' Employment Society and the Trinity Church Association which supports independently of the corporation, a Mission House in Fulton Street under charge of the Sisters of St. Mary, a dispensary, kindergarten and training school for household service, a seaside home for children at Great River, L. I., a relief bureau and a kitchen garden. All this is done in addition to the reg- ular religious and charitable work of the parent church and it aims to reach every soul within call and to enlist it not only in work on its own be- half, but in becoming a ministering messenger to others.
The same spirit of activity pervades all the chapels and their congregation. Something is found to do by every willing worker. Especially does the hand that is twice blessed aim to gather in the little ones. There are guilds and schools and work and prayers for every babe in Christ ; if one wants to hear the praise of old Trinity in strange places he will hear it to best advantage in some of the down-town rookeries from which the children have been gathered into the church and made to love its ways and services. For the work
173
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
of each care is done systematically. Districts are divided up and apportioned so as to be thoroughly canvassed, and all cases where the ministrations of the church are needed and all opportunities of aggressive work are reported immediately and acted upon, and in the parish chapels, the services are arranged and conducted so as to attract those for whose spiritual welfare they are intended. Nor must it be forgotten that besides maintaining five beds at St. Luke's Hospital, for the sick poor of the Parish, the old rectory next door to St. John's Chapel, which is fragrant to me with the memory of Dr. Berrian and his family, is the enlarged and beautified home of Trinity Hospital, maintained by the corporation. The Vestry also provide for the free interment of the destitute poor in St. Michael's cemetery, Newton, L. I. Thus in death as in life the old Parish looks after her children, parts with them only at the grave, where she leaves them under the smile of God's benediction.
In closing this paper, I cannot do better than quote the following beautiful lines which appeared in the New York American, some fifty years ago, when the old Trinity Church whose consecration was witnessed be President Washington in 1790,
174
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
was in the process of demolition and the new and grander church of to-day was rising from its dust. The newspaper from which this touching tribute is taken was edited by Charles King, LL. D., who was afterwards President of Columbia College.
TRINITY CHURCH.
-
Farewell ! Farewell ! They're falling fast, Pillar and arch and architrave ; Yon aged pile, to me the last Sole record of the by-gone past, Is speeding to its grave :
And thoughts from memory's fountain flow, (As one by one, like wedded hearts,
Each rude and mouldering stone departs,) Of boyhood's happiness and woe,- Its sunshine and its shade :
And though each ray of early gladness
Comes mingled with the hues of sadness, I would not bid them fade.
They come, as come the stars at night,-
Like fountains gushing into light -- And close around my heart they twine, Like ivy round the mountain pine ! Yes, they are gone-the sunlight smiles All day upon its foot-worn aisles ; Those foot-worn aisles, where oft have trod The humble worshippers of God, In times long past, when Freedom first From all the land in glory burst !
175
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
The heroic few ! From him whose sword Was wielded in his country's cause, To him who battled with his word, The bold expounder of her laws ! And they are gone-gone like the lone Forgotten echoes of their tread ; And from their niches now are gone The sculptured records of the dead ! As now I gaze, my heart is stirred With music of another sphere ! A low, sweet chime, which once was heard, Comes like the note of some wild bird Upon my listening ear ;- Recalling many a happy hour, Reviving many a withered flower, Whose bloom and beauty long have laid Within my sad heart's silent shade : Life's morning flowers ! that bud and blow And wither ere the sun hath kissed The dew drops from their breasts of snow, Or dried the landscape's veil of mist !
Yes! When that sweetly mingled chime Stole on my ear in boyhood's time, My glad heart drank the thrilling joy, Undreaming of its future pains ;- As spell-bound as the Theban boy Listening to Memnon's fabled strains 1
Farewell, old fane! And though unsung By bards thy many glorious fell, Though babbling fame had never rung Thy praises on his echoing bell- Who that hath seen, can e'er forget Thy grey old spire ?- Who that hath knelt Within thy sacred aisles, nor felt Religion's self grow sweeter yet ?
176
WALKS IN OUR CHURCHYARDS.
Yes! Though the decking hand of Time Glory to Greece's fanes hath given, That, from her old heroic clime, Point proudly to their native heaven ; Though Rome hath many a ruined pile To speak the glory of her land, And fair, by Egypt's sacred Nile, Her mouldering monuments may stand, The joy that swells the gazer's heart, The pride that sparkles in his eye,
When pondering on these piles, where art In crumbling majesty doth lie, Ne'er blended with them keener joy Than mine, when but a thoughtless boy I gazed with awe-struck, wondering eye, On thy old spire, my Trinity ! And thou shalt live like words of truth,- Like golden monuments of youth- As on the lake's unrippled breast The mirrored mountain lies at rest, So shalt thou lie, till life depart, Mirrored for ages on my heart !
In the same spirit of reverend love, I stand under the spire of the grand temple of worship at whose consecration I was present nearly half a century ago, and looking around upon the six stalwart children that own her for a nursing mother, and remembering her record of faith and good deeds, I say, GOD BLESS OLD TRINITY !
INDEX.
A.
Alexander, James, 70. Andros, Sir Edmund, 37. Apthorpe, 71.
Ann, 108. Charles Ward, 106,
107. Armitage, Benjamin, 148. Astor, John Jacob, 163. Auchmuty, Rev. Samuel, 126.
B.
Bache, Theophylact, 35. Barclay, Anthony, 148.
George, 148. Rev. Mr., 168.
Barton, Rev., 145.
Battin, John, 164.
Bayard, 84.
Belmont, 83.
Bend, G., 56.
Bensar, 162. Berrian, Dr., 149, 173. 16 James, 162.
Bibby, 158. Black, John, 162. Bleecker, 36.
Anthony J., 34, 35. Anthony Lispenard, 33,44. Jacobus, 33. Jan Jansen, 33 .
Bogert, 143. Bond, Capt., 145. Bondinot, 84.
Bradford, William, 7, 25, 91.
Col. William, 26.
Breese, Sidney, 24. Brookins, Artemus B., 161. Brovort, Elias, Jr., 132. Mrs. Ann, 132. Brown, Benjamin M., 148. Sexton, 46. Buchanan, Thos., 70. Burton, William E., 161.
C.
Camman, Charles L., 70. Cammann, 158. Campbell, Col. Mungo, 145. Churcher, Ann, 49. 48. Clarke, Mrs., II. Capt. Thomas, 57. Clarkson, 65, 66, 158.
David, 66, 67.
David M., 66.
Matthew, 66.
Gen. Matthew, 62, 65, 67. Thos. S., 67.
Clift, 157. Clinton, De Witt, 109, 138. Cole, 69. Coles, John B., 67, 70.
Collis, Christopher, 137, 138.
Constant, D., 84.
Cooper, Thomas Apthorpe, 9.
Cornbury, Lady, 11, 90. Cornell, 143. Cotheal, 158.
Alexander I., 148.
.€
Henry, 148.
Crane, James E., 162. Cresap, Michael, 81 .
178
INDEX.
Cresap, Col. Thos., 81. Croes, Bishop, 19. Cruger, 158. John, 12. Cutler, 143.
D.
Darley, Arthur and Mary, 114. Davis, 71.
James, 143 . Matthew L., 109. De Lancey, James, 24.
De Peyster, 66.
Abraham, 125.
Frederic, 42. Gen. J. Watts, 43.
Desbrosses, 71. - John, 128.
Dix, John A., Major General, 113, 157, 163. Dix, Rev. Dr., 171.
Drakes, 158.
Duer, Lady Kitty, 71.
Dugan, Alexander, 162.
E.
Eacker, George L., 9. Edgar, 149. Emmett, Thomas Addis, 7, 136. Erving, John, 160. Everett, Edward, 150.
F.
Faneuil, Benj., 59, 60. Peter, 59. Farnham, Col., 18.
Franklin, Benj., 92, 96.
Freneau, Philip, 105. Fulton, Robert, 7, 36, 60.
G.
Gaines, Hugh, 94.
Gale, Thomas, 148. Gallatin, Albert, 36.
Gates, Gen. Horatio, 70.
Gerry, 149.
Gibbs, Capt., 149.
Goelet, Peter, 147.
Goodwin, 149.
Gordon, Frederic, 162.
Gracie, 44.
Archibald, 70.
Grenolier, Gabriel, 162.
Gunning, 143.
H.
Haight, Dr., 147.
Hallem, Dr., 53.
Halsted, 162.
Hamblin, Thomas, 162.
Hamersley, 71.
Hamilton, Alexander, 7, 9, 17, 22, 44, 60, 109, 146, 157. Hamilton, Sir E., 163. Philip, 9.
Harison, Richard, 123.
Harrison, 80, 149.
Harvey, 158.
Hobart, Bishop, 149.
Hoffman, 71, 158.
Josiah Ogden, 123.
Mrs. Linley Murray, I52. Martin, 123.
Nicholas, 123.
Horseman, Daniel, 25.
Horsmanden, Chief Justice, 60. Horton, Capt., 145.
Hosack, Dr., 110.
Hosick, Dr., 158.
Hunter, Dr., 157. 1 Hyslop, 158.
179
INDEX.
I.
Inslee, Lieut., 145. Iredell, Lieut., 145.
J .
Jamison, David, 25. Jay, 66, 71, 84. Governor, 9. "' John, 120. Jefferson, 36. Jones, David S., 9.
George, 148.
John, 143. John Q., 148. Johnson, Sir John, 42.
K.
Kearney, Gen. Philip Watts, 39.
Philip, 7, 17, 42.
Keimer, Printer, 92.
Kemble, 158.
Kennedy, Archibald, 42.
Kling, Charles, LL. D., 174.
L.
Lafayette, 116. Lamb, Gen. John, 17, 60.
Lambert, John, I. Rev. John, 131.
Laurens, 84. Lawrence, 158.
Augustine H., 55. Elizabeth, 162.
John, 162.
Capt. John, 7, 20, 21, 26. Widow of Capt. John 27. Major Jonathan, 155. Leake, Major Robert, 42.
Leake & Watts Orphan Asy- lum, 42. Lee, 149.
Legget, Mary, 162. Le Roy, 36.
Herman, 70. Lewis, Francis, 17, 60, 116, 117, IIS. Lewis, Governor, 120.
Morgan, 119, 120. Gen. Morgan, 113, 117. Lispenard, 36.
Anthony, 33. Leonard, 35 . Livingston, 36, 39, 71, 80. Gertrude, 120.
Jacob, 37, 50.
Janet, 137.
Maturin, 120.
Philip, 26.
Robert, 36, 37, 38, 116. Robert C., 36.
Robert R., 38.
Judge Robert R., 38,4I. Walter, 36.
Logan, Capt., 145. Lorillard, 158. Ludlow, Carey, 80.
Catharine, 80.
Charles, 79.
Daniel, 119.
Gabriel, 79.
66 Gabriel H., 79.
Gabriel W., 79.
Henry, 79.
Lieut., 21, 79.
Thos. W., 79.
Sarah Frances, 123.
Lydig, 157. Lynch, Dominick, 69. Lyon, David, 6.
M.
Many, 158. Marion, 84.
180
INDEX.
Marisco, Withamus, 84.
Mason, Dr., 165.
Maxwell, James Hower, III.
McEvers, Bache, 147.
McKnight, Rev. Charles, 133. Richard, 133. McNeven, Dr. William James, 136. McNevin, Dr., 71. McVickar, 149. Mesier, 71.
Abraham, 99.
Peter, 55, 99.
Peter, A., 100.
Milborne, 37.
Minuit, Governor, 33.
Montgomery, Gen. Richard M., 7, 22, 54, 136. Moore, Elizabeth, 162.
Sir Henry, 12. Moore, Bishop Benj., 56, 60, I30. Moore, Charity, 56. Clement C., 58.
Morgan, John J., 112, 158.
Morse, Samuel F. B., 24.
Morton, 80. Gen. Jacob, 80, 157.
Mour, Cornelius, 162. Muhlenberg, Rev. Peter, 19. Murray, John, Jr., 69.
N.
Nean, Elias, 83. Susannah, 83.
Nesbitt, 143. Nichols, John, 162. Norman, Capt., 145.
O.
Ogden, 80, 143. Abraham, 123. David B., 148.
Ogden, Samuel G., 119.
Thomas L., 123. Thomas Ludlow, 122, 123. Onderdonk, 143.
Dr., 149. Oram, James, 95. Ostrander, 158.
P.
Parks, Rev. Dr., 147.
Patus, Leonard, 162.
Perry, Elizabeth Champlin, 83. Commodore O. H., 83.
Popham, Major, 121. Pray, 149. Provost, Rev. Samuel, 19.
R.
Randolph, 157. Ravenscroft, Bishop, 19. Reade, Joseph, 125, 126. Lawrence, 126.
Reid, John, 71 .
Rhinelander, 143, 149.
Robinson, Capt., 118. Rutherford, 66, 71 .
Walter, 71 .
S.
Schuyler, 35, 157. Scott, John Morin, 132. Lewis Allain, 133.
Seymour, 71. Shepley, George, 162.
Slidell, John, 55. Smith, Wm. Alexander, 148.
Somerindykes, 143. Speed, Maria, 162. Spencer, 149. Stewart, 36.
18I
INDEX.
Stirling, Earl of, 26, 42, 60, 70. Stockton, Richard, 123.
Stringham, 145. Strong, Templeton, 148. Sturns, John, 71. Stuyvesant, 71 . 66 George Petrus, 33. Mrs., 144.
Summeslays, John, 162.
Sumner, Bishop, 119.
Suydam, Ferdinand, 147. Swords, 158.
Jas. R., 97.
Mary, 98.
Thomas, 96. Lieut. Thomas, 98.
T.
Talbot, 145. Talman, Carolina, 147. 66 John H., 147.
Taylor, Capt. Peter, 161.
Thody, Elizabeth, 78. Michael, 78. Thorburn, Grant, 109, 165. Thorne, 143. 6. Richard, 114. Sarah, 148. Tillon, 84. Tredwell, 143.
U.
Underhill, Eugene, 160. Ustic, Thomas, 162.
V.
Van Amridges, 143. Van Brugh, 71. Van Dam, 128. Van Der Heuvilles, 158.
Van Cortland, 66. Van Zandt, Catharina, III.
Van Zandt, Jacobus, III.
Johannes, III. Peter Vra, IIO.
Wyman, IIO. Wynant, Jr., 55, IIO.
Verplank, 66, 80. Vesey, Rev. William, 25. Vinton, 83.
W.
Waddington, 80. Wainwright, Rev. Dr., 152.
Waldo, 143.
Walker, Capt., 145.
Ward, Frederick A., 160.
Warne, Catharina, 113. Washington, Geo., 19, 20, 112, 121, 134, 135, 173. Watts, 39, 43, 44, 45.
John, 40, 41, 69.
Lady Mary, 42, 71.
Robert, 40, 42.
Webb, 36. Weston, Rev. Dr. Samuel H., I52. Whitfield, George, 26.
Whitehead, J., 162.
Wies, Mr., 145.
Wilcox, Capt., 145.
Wilkes, 158.
Willett, Marinus, 17, 54, 60, II3. Williams, Bishop, 53.
Williamson, Dr. Hugh, 107. Winthrop, 36, 149.
Wilson, Bishop, 119. Winslow, Rev., 145.
Wittenhall, 143. Wolfe, Capt., 145. 66 John David, 148. Wragg, Mary, 52.
APR
75
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.