If your heart yearns for a particularly comfortable seat which is occupied by a lady, all you have to do is to keep your eye steadily upon it, and the moment she gets up, dont wait to see if she is going to return, but take possession without a moment's delay. If she comes back again, be sure not to see her.
Keep a sharp look out for meals. An experienced traveller can always tell when these amiable conveniences are about being served up, by a mysterious move- ment on the part of the ladies, and a mysterious agitation among the male species , who may be seen gradually approximating towards the cabin doors. Whenever you observe these symptoms, it is time to exert yourself by pushing through the crowd to the place of flagons. Never mind the sour looks, but elbow your way with resolution and perseverance, remembering that a man can eat but so many meals in his life, and that the loss of one can never be retrieved.
The most prudent and infallible arrangement, however, is that generally pursued by your knowing English travellers, which is as follows: As soon as you have seen your baggage disposed of, and before the waiters have had time to shut the cabin doors, preparatory to laying the tables, station yourself in a proper situation for action at one of them. The inside is the best, for there you are not in the way of the servants. Resolutely maintain your position in spite of the looks and hints of the servants about, "Gentlemen being in the way ," and "No chance to set the tables. " You can be reading a book or a newspaper, and not hear them; or the best way is to pretend to be asleep.
Keep a wary eye for a favourite dish, and if it happens to be placed at a distance, or on another table, you can take an opportunity to look hard at an open window, as if there was too much air for you, shrug your shoulders, and move opposite the dish aforesaid.
The moment the bell rings, fall to; you need not wait for the rest of the company to be seated, or mind the ladies ;for there is no time to be lost on these occasions. For the same reason, you should keep your eyes moving about, from one end of the table to the other, in order that if you see any thing you like, you can send for it without losing time. Call as loudly and as often as possible for the waiter; the louder you call, the more consequence you will gain with the company. If he dont mind you, dont hesitate to snatch whatever he has got in his hands, if you happen to want it.
Be sure to have as many different things on your plate at one time as possible, and to use your own knife in cutting up all the dishes within your reach, and particularly in helping yourself to butter, though there may be knives on purpose. N. B. It is of no consequence whether your knife is fishy or not.
Dont wait for the dessert to be laid, but the moment a pudding or a pie is placed within your reach, fall to and spare not. Get as much pudding, pie, nuts, apples, raisins, &c. on your plate as it will hold, and eat all together .
Pay no attention to the ladies, who have or ought to have friends to take care of them, or they have no business to be travelling in steam boats.
The moment you have eaten every thing within your reach, and are satisfied nothing more is forthcoming, get up and make for the cabin door with a segar in your hand. No matter if you are sitting at the middle of the inner side of the table, and disturb a dozen or two of people. They have no business to be in your way. If it is supper time and the candles lighted, you had best light your segar at one of them, and puff a little before you proceed for fear it should go out. N. B. If you were to take an opportunity to find fault with the meals, the attendants, and the boat, in an audible tone, as Englishmen do, it will serve to give people an idea you have been used to better at home.
Neverthink of pulling off your hat on coming into the cabin, though it happens to be full of ladies. It looks anti-republican; and besides has the appearance of not having been used to better company.
Never miss an opportunity of standing in the door way, or on the stairs, or in narrow passages, and never get out of the way to let people pass, particularly ladies. If there happens to be a scarcity of seats, be sure to stretch yourself at full length upon a sopha or a cushion, and if any lady looks at you as if she thought you might give her a place, give her another look as much as to say, "I'll see you hanged first."
If the weather is cold get directly before the stove, turn your back, and open the skirts of your coat behind as wide as possible, that the fire may have fair play.
If you happen to be better dressed than your neighbour, look at him with an air of superiority; and dont hear him if he has the impudence to speak to you. If it is your ill fortune to be dressed not so well, employ a tailor as soon as possible to remedy the inferiority.
Be sure to pay your passage, if you have any money. If you have none, go to sleep in some out of the way corner, and dont wake till the last trumpet blows.
Dont pay any attention to the notification that "no smoking is allowed abaft the wheel;" but strut about the quarter deck, and the upper gallery, among the ladies with a segar on all occasions. There are so many ignorant people that smoke on board steam boats, that it will naturally be supposed you cant read, and of course dont know of the prohibition. If you can get to the windward of a lady or two, so much the better .
Whenever you are on deck by day, be sure to have this book in your hand, and instead of boring yourself with the scenery , read the descriptions which will be found infinitely superior to any of the clumsy productions of nature.
N .B .These rules apply exclusively to gentlemen, the ladies being allowed the liberty of doing as they please, in all respects except six.
They are not permitted to eat beef steaks and mutton chops at breakfast, unless they can prove themselves past fifty.
They must not sit at table more than an hour, unless they wish to be counted hungry, which no lady ought ever to be.
They must not talk so loud as to drown the noise of the engine, unless their voices are particularly sweet.
They must not enact the turtle dove before all the company, unless they cant help it.
They must not jump overboard, at every little noise of the machinery. They must not be always laughing, except they have very white teeth. With these exceptions, they may say and do just what they like, in spite of papa and mama, for this is a free country .
"This magnificent river ,* which taking it in all its combinations of magnitude and beauty, is scarcely equalled in the new, and not even approached in the old world, was discovered by Hendrick Hudson in the month of September, 1609, by accident, as almost every other discovery has been made. He was searching for a northwest passage to India, when he first entered the bay of New York, and imagined the possibility that he had here found it, until on exploring the river upwards, he came to fresh water, ran aground, and abandoned his hopes.
"Of this man, whose name is thus identified with the discovery, the growth, and the future prospects of a mighty state, little is known; and of that little the end is indescribably melancholy. He made four voyages in search of this imaginary northwest passage, and the termination of the last is in the highest degree affecting, as related in the following extract from his Journal, as published in the collections of the N ew York Historical Society. "
"You shall understand," says Master Abacuk Pricket, from whose Journal this is taken, "that our master kept in his house in London, a young man named Henrie Greene, borne in Kent, of worshipfull parents, but by his lewd life and conversation hee lost the good will of all his friends, and spent all that hee had. This man our master (Hudson) would have to sea with him, because hee could write well: our master gave him meate, and drinke and lodgeing, and by means of one Master Venson, with much ado got four pounds of his mother to buy him clothes, wherewith Master Venson would not trust him, but saw it laid out himself. This Henry Greene was not set down in the owners' bookes, nor any wages made for him. Hee came first on board at Gravesend, and at Harwich should have gone into the field with one Wilkinson. At Island, the surgeon and hee fell out in Dutch, and hee beat him ashore in English, which set all the company in a rage; so that wee had much ado to get the surgeon aboarde. I told the master of it, but hee bade mee let it alone, for (said hee,) the surgeon had a tongue that would wrong the best friend hee had. But Robert Juet (the master's mate) would needs burn his fingers in the embers, and told the carpenter a long tale (when hee was drunk) that our master had brought in Greene to worke his credit that should displease him; which words came to the master's ears, who when he understood it would have gone back to Island, when he was forty degrees from thence, to have sent home his mate, Robert Juet, in a fisherman. But being otherwise persuaded, all was well. So Henry Greene stood upright and very inward with the master, and was a serviceable man every way for manhood: but for religion, he would say he was cleane paper whereon he might write what hee would. Now when our gunner was dead, (and as the order is in such cases) if the company stand in need of any thing that belonged to the man deceased, then it is brought to the mayne mast, and there sold to him that will give most for the same. This gunner had a graye cloth gowne which Greene prayed the master to friend him so much to let him have it, paying for it as another would give. The master saith he should, and therefore he answered some that sought to have it, that Greene should have it, and none else, and so it rested.
"N ow out of season and time the master calleth the carpenter to go in hand with a house on shore, which at the beginning our master would not heare when it might have been done. The carpenter told him that the snow and frost were such , as he neither could or would go in hand with such worke. Which when our master heard, he ferret ted him out ofhis cabbin, to strike him, calling him by many foule names, and threatening to hang him. The carpenter told him that hee knew what belonged to his place better than himselfe, and that hee was no house carpenter. So this passed, and the house was (after) made with much labour, but to no end. "
The next day after the master and the carpenter fell out, the carpenter took his peece and Henry Greene with him, for it was an order that none shopld go out alone, but one with a peece, and the other with a pike. This did moove the master so much the more against Henry Greene, that Robert Billet, his mate, must have the gowne, and had it delivered to him; which when Henry Greene saw he challenged the master's promise; but the master did so raile on Greene with so many words of disgrace, telling him that all his friends would not trust him with twenty shillings, and therefore why should hee? As for wages hee had none, nor none should have if he did not please him well. Yet the master had promised him to make his wages as good as any man's in the ship; and to have him one of the prince's guard when he came home. But you shall see how the devil out of this so wrought with Greene, that hee did the master what mischiefe hee could in seeking to discredit him, and to thrust him and many other honest men out of the ship in the end."
It appears that Greene having come to an understanding with others whom he had corrupted, a plot was laid to seize Hudson and those of the crew that remained faithful to him, put them on board a small shallop which was used in making excursions for food or observations, and run away with the ship. Of the manner in which this was consummated the same writer gives the following relation:
"Being thus in the ice on Saturday the one and twentieth day of June, (1610,) at night Wilson the boatswayne and Henry Greene came to mee lying in my cabbin lame, and told me that they and the rest of their associates would shift the company and tume the master and all the sick men into the shallop, and let them shift for themselves. For there was not fourteen daies victuals left for all the company, at that poor allowance they were at, and that there they lay, the master not caring to goe one way or other: and that they had not eaten any thing these three dayes, and therefore were resolute either to mend or end"and what they had begun would go through with it, or dye." Pricket refuses and expostulates with Wilson and Greene. "Henry Greene then told me I must take my chance in the shallop. If there be no remedy, (said I,) the will of God be done." Pricket tries to persuade them to put off their design for two days, nay for twelve hours, that he might persuade Hudson to return home with the ship; but, to this they would not consent, and proceeded to execute their plot as follows:
"In the mean time, Henry Greene and another went to the carpenter, and held him with a talke till the master (Hudson) came out of his cabbill; ( which he soon did;) then came John Thomas and Bennett before him, while Wilson bound his arms behind him. He asked them what they meant? They told him he should know when he was in the shallop. Now Juet while this was doing, came to John King into the hold, who was provided for him, for he had got a sword of his own and kept him at bay, and might have killed him, but others came to help him, and so he came up to the master. The master called to the carpenter and told him he was bound; but I heard no answer he made. Now Arnold Lodlo and Michael Bute rayled at them, and told them their knaverie would shewe itselfe. Then was the shallop haled up to the ship's side, and tho poore sick and lame men were called upon to get them out of their cabbins into the shallop. The master called to mee, who came out of my cabbill as well as I could to the hatch waye to speak to him: where on my knees, I besought them for the love of God to remember them- selves, and to doe as they would be done unto. They bade me keepe myselfe well, and get me into my cabbin, not suffering the master to speake to me. But when I came into my cabbin, againe he called to me at the home that gave light into my cabbin, and told me that Juet would overthrow us all. Nay, says I, it is that villaine Henry Greene, and I spake it not softly.
"Now were all the poore men in the shallop, whose names are as followeth: Hellrie Hudson, John Hudson, Arnold Lodlo, Sidrach Faller, Phillip Staffe, Thomas Woodhouse, (or Wydhouse,) Adam Moore, Henrie King, and Michael Bute. The carpenter got of them a peece, and powder and shot, and some pikes, an iron pot, with some meale and other things. They stood out of the ice, the shallop being fast to the steme of the shippe, and so when they were nigh out, for I cannot say they were cleane out, they cut her head fast from the steme of the ship, then out with the ire topsayles, and towards the east they stood in a cleare sea."
The mutineers being on shore, some days after, were attacked by a party of indians.
"John Thomas and William Wilson had their bowels cut, and Michael Pearce and Henry Greene being mortally wounded, came tumbling in the boat together. When Andrew Moter saw this medley, hee came running down the rockes, and leaped into the sea, and soe swamme to the boat, hanging on the steme thereof, till Michael Pearce took him in, who manfully made good the head of the boat against the savages that pressed sore upon us. Now Michael Pearce had got an hatchet, wherewith I saw him strike one of them, that he lay sprawling in the sea. Henry Greene crieth coragio, and layeth about him with his truncheon. The savages betook themselves to their bowes and arrows which they sent among us, wherewith Henry Greene was slaine outright, and Michael Pearce received many wounds, and so did the rest. Michael Pearce and Andrew Moter rowed the boat away, which when the savages saw they ranne to their boats, and I feared they would have launched them to have followed us, but they did not, and our ship was in the middle of the channel, and did not see us.
"Now when they had rowed a good way from the shore, Michael Pearce fainted and could row no more. Then was Andrew Moter driven to stand in the boat's head and waft to the ship, which at the first saw us not, and when they did, they could not tell what to make of us; but in the end they stood for us, and so took us up. Henry Greene was thrown out of the boat into the sea, and the rest were had on board. But they died all three that day, William Wilson swearing and cursing in the most fearful manner. Michael Pearce lived two days after and then died. Thus you have heard the tragicale of Henry Greene and his mates, whom they called the captaine, these four being the only lustie men in all the ship."
After this, Robert Juet took the command, but "died for meere want," before they arrived at Plymouth, which is the last we hear of them, except that Pricket was taken up to London to Sir Thomas Smith. Neither was the unfortunate Hudson and his companions ever heard of more. Doubtless they perished miser- ably, by famine, cold, or savage cruelty. The mighty river which he first explored, and the great bay to the north, alone by bearing his name, carry his memory, and will continue to carry it down to the latest posterity. We thought we could do no less than call the attention of the traveller a few moments, to the hard fate of one to whom they are originally indebted, for much of the pleasures of the tour to the springs.
After the traveller has paid tribute to the memory of honest Henry Hudson, by reading the preceding sketch of his melancholy end, he may indulge himself in contemplating the beautiful world expanding every moment before him, appear- ing and vanishing in the rapidity of his motion, like the creations of the imagina- tion. Every object is beautiful, and its beauties heightened by the eye having no time to be palled with contemplating them too long. Nature seems in merry motion hurring by, and as she moves along displays a thousand varied charms in rapid succession, each one more enchanting than the rest. If the traveller casts his eyes backwards, he beholds the long perspective waters gradually converging to a point at the Narrows, fringed with the low soft scenery of Jersey and Long Island, and crowned with the little buoyant islands on its bosom. If he looks before him, on one side the picturesque shore of Jersey, its rich strip of meadows and orchards, sometimes backed by the wood crowned hills, and at others by perpendicular walls of solid rock; on the other, York Island with its thousand little palaces, sporting its green fields and waving woods, by turns allure his attention, and make him wish either that the river had but one side, or that he had more eyes to admire its beauties.
As the vessel wafts him merrily, merrily along, new beauties crowd upon him so rapidly as almost to efface the impressions of the past. That noble ledge of rocks which is worthy to form the barrier of the noble river, and which extends for sixteen miles, shows itself in a succession of sublime bluffs, projecting out one after the other, looking like the fabled creations of the giants, or the Cyclops of old. High on these cliffs, may be seen the woodman, pitching his billet from the very edge down a precipice of hundreds of feet, whence it slides or bounds to the water's edge, and is received on board its destined vessel. At other points, half way up its sides you will see the quarriers, undermining huge masses of rocks that in the lapse of ages have separated from the cliff above, and setting them rolling down with thundering crashes to the level beach below. Here and there under the dark impending cliff, where nature has formed a little green nook or flat, some enterprising skipper who owns a little pettiauger, or some hardy quarrier, has erected his little cot. There when the afternoon shadows envelope the rocks, the woods and the shores, may be seen little groups of children sporting in all the glee of youthful idleness. Some setting their little shaggy dog to swimming into the river after a chip, others worrying some patient pussy, others wading along the white sands knee deep in the waters, and others perhaps stopping to stare at the moving wonder champing by, then chasing the long ripple created by its furious motion as it breaks along the sands. Contrasting beautifully with this long mural precipice on the west, the eastern bank exhibits a charming variety of waving outline. Long graceful curving hills, sinking into little vales, pouring forth a gurgling brook-then rising again into wood crowned heights, presenting the image of a mighty succession of waves, suddenly arrested in their rolling career , and turned into mingled woods, and meadows, and fertile fields, animated with all the living emblems of industry; cattle, sheep, waving fields of grain, and whistling ploughmen .
These precipices are said to be of the trap formation, a most important species of rock in geology, as whoever "understands trap," may set up for a master of the science. In many places, this trap formation is found apparently based on a horizontal stratum of primitive rock. This has somewhat shaken the trap theory and puzzled geologists. But we leave them to settle the affair, and pass on to objects of more importance to the tourist, in a historical point of view at least.
At Sneden ' s Landing, opposite Dobb ' s Ferry, the range of perpendicular trap rocks, disappears until you again detect it, opposite Sing Sing, where it exhibits itself in a most picturesque and beautiful manner at intervals, in the range of mountains bordering the west side of the river, between Nyack and Haverstraw. At Sneden's, commences a vast expanse of salt meadows, generally so thickly studded with barracks and haystacks, as to present at a distance the appearance of a great city rising out of the famed Tappan Sea, like Venice from out the Adriatic . Travellers, who have seen both, observe a great similarity-but on the whole prefer the haystacks. Here commences Tappan Sea, where the river expands to a breadth of three miles, and where in the days of log canoes and pine skiffs, full many an adventurous navigator is said to have encountered dreadful perils in crossing over from the Slote to Tarry town. At present its dangers are all trad tionary.
The western border of this beautiful expanse is mountainous; but the hills rise in such gradual ascent that the whole is cultivated to the very top, and exhibits a charming display of variegated fields. That the soil was once rich, is established by the fact of this whole district being settled by the Dutch, than whom there never was a people better at smelling out rich vales and fat alluvions. Here the race subsists unadulterated to the present time. The sons are cast in the same moulds with the father and grandfather; the daughters depart not from the examples of their mothers and grandmothers. The former eschew the mysteries of modern tailoring, and the latter borrow not the fashion of their bonnets from the French milliners. They travel not in steam boats, or in any other new fangled inventions; abhor canals and rail roads, and will go five miles out of the way to avoid a turnpike. They mind nobody's business but their own, and such is their inveterate attachment to home, that it is credibly reported there are men now living along the shores of the river, who not only have never visited the renowned Tarry town, directly opposite, but who know not even its name.
They are deplorably deficient in the noble science of gastronomy, and such is their utter barbarity of taste, that they never eat but when they are hungry, nor after they are satisfied, and the consequence of this barbarous indifference to the chief good of life, is that they one and all remain without those infallible patents of high breeding, gout and dyspepsia. Since the period of the first settlement of this region, the only changes that have ever been known to take place, are those brought about by death, who if report says true has sometimes had his match with some of these tough old copperheads; in the aspect of the soil, which from an interminable forest has become a garden; and in the size of the loaves of bread, which from five feet long have dwindled down into the ordinary dimensions. For this unheard of innovation, they adduce in their justification the following undoubted tradition, which, like their hats and their petticoats, has descended down from generation to generation without changing a syllable.
"Sometime in the autumn of the year 1694, just when the woods were on the change, Yffrow, or Vrouw Katrinchee Van Noorden, was sitting at breakfast, surrounded by her husband and family, consisting of six stout boys, and as many strapping girls, all dressed in their best, for it was of a Sunday morning. Vrouw Katrinchee, had a loaf of fresh rye bread between her knees, the top of which was about on a line with her throat, the other end resting upon a napkin on the floor; and was essaying with the edge of a sharp knife to cut off the upper crust for the youngest boy, who was the pet; when unfortunately it recoiled from the said crust, and before the good Vrouw had time to consider the matter, sliced off her head as clean as a whistle, to the great horror of Mynheer Van Noorden, who actually stopt eating his breakfast. This awful catastrophe, brought the big loaves into disrepute, but such was their attachment to good old customs, that it was not until Domine Koontzie denounced them as against the law and the prophets, that they could be brought to give them up. As it is, the posterity of the Van Noordens to this day keep up the baking of big loaves, in conformity to the last will and testament of their ancestor, who decreed that this event should be thus preserved immortal in his family."
On the opposite side of the river, snugly nestling in a little bay, lies Tarry town, famous for its vicinity to the spot where the British spy, Andre, was intercepted by the three honest lads of W estchester .If the curious traveller is inclined to stop and view this spot, to which a romantic interest will ever be attached, the following directions will suffice.
"Landing at Tarry town, t it is about a quarter of a mile to the post road, at Smith's tavern. Following the post road due north, about half a mile, you come to a little bridge over a small stream, known by the name of Clark's Kill, and sometimes almost dry. Formerly the wood on the left hand south of the bridge, approached close to the road, and there was a bank on the opposite side, which was steep enough to prevent escape on horseback that way. The road from the north, as it approaches the bridge, is narrowed between two banks of six or eight feet high, and makes an angle just before it reaches it. Here, c;ose within the copse of wood on the left, as you approach from the village, the three militia lads, for lads they were, being hardly one and twenty, concealed themselves, to wait for a suspicious stranger, of whom they had notice from a Mrs. Read, at whose house they had stopt on their way towards Kingsbridge. A Mr. Talmadge, a revolutionary officer, and a member of the house of representatives, some years since took occasion to stigmatize these young men, as Cow Boys, out on a plundering expedition. The imputation was false; they were in possession of passes from General Philip Van Courtlandt, to proceed beyond the lines, as they were called, and of course by the laws of war, authorized to be where they were.
" As Major Andre approached, according to the universal tradition among the old people of Westchester, John Paulding, darted out upon him and seized his horse's bridle. Andre was exceedingly startled at the suddenness of this rencon- tre, and in a moment of unguarded surprise, exclaimed-'Where do you belong?'
" 'Below, , was the reply, which was the phrase commonly used to designate the British, who were then in possession of New York.
" 'So do I,' was the rejoinder of Andre in the joyful surprise of the moment. It has been surmised that this hasty admission sealed his fate. But when we reflect that he was suspected before, and that afterwards not even the production of his pass from General Arnold, could prevail upon the young men to let him go, it will appear sufficiently probable that this imprudent avowal was not the original cause of his being detained and searched. After some discussion and exhibiting his pass, he was taken into the wood, and searched, not without a good deal of unwillingness on his part; it is said he particularly resisted the pulling off his right boot, which contained the treasonable documents. When these were discovered, it is also said, Andre unguardedly exclaimed, 'I'm lost!' but presently recollect- ing himself, he added, 'No matter-they dare not hang me.'
"Finding himself discovered, Andre offered his gold watch and a purse of guineas for his release. These were rejected. He then proposed that they should take and secrete him, while one of the party carried a letter, which he would write in their presence, to Sir Henry Clinton, naming the ransom necessary to his discharge, and which they might themselves specify, pledging his honour that it should accompany their associate on his return. To this they likewise refused their assent. Andre then threatened them with a severe punishment for daring to disregard a pass from the commanding general at West Point; and bade them beware of carrying him to head quarters, for they would only be tried by a court martial and punished for mutiny. Still the firmness of these young men sustained them against all these threats and temptations, and they finally delivered him to Colonel Jameson. It is no inconsiderable testimony to the motives and tempta- tions thus overcome, that Colonel Jameson, an officer of the regular army, commanding a point of great consequence, so far yielded to the production of this pass, as to permit Andre to write to General Arnold a letter, which enabled that traitor to escape the ignominious fate he deserved.
"While in custody of the three Westchester volunteers, Andre is said gradually to have recovered from his depression of spirits, so as to sit with them after supper, and chat about himself and his situation, still preserving his incognito of John Anderson. In the course of the evening which he passed in their company, he related the following singular little anecdote. It seems the evening before he left London to embark for America, he was in company with some young ladies of his familiar acquaintance, when it was proposed, that as he was going to a distant country on a perilous service, he should have his fortune told by a famous sybil, at that time fashionable in town, in order that his friends might know what had become of him while away. They went accordingly, when the old beldam, after the usual grimace and cant, on examining his palms, gravely announced, 'That he was going a great distance, and would either be hanged, or come very near it, before he returned. ' All the company laughed at this awful annunciation, and joked with him on the way back. 'But,' added Andre, smiling, 'I seem in a fair way of fulfilling the prophecy. '
"It was not till Andre arrived at head quarters, and concealment became no longer possible, that he wrote the famous letter to General Washington, avowing his name and rank. He was tried by a court martial, found guilty on his own confession, was hanged at Tappan, where he met his fate with dignity, and excited in the bosoms of the Americans that sympathy as a criminal, which has since been challenged for him as a hero and a martyr. A few years since the British consul at New York, caused his remains to be disinterred and sent to England, where to perpetuate if possible the delusion of his having suffered in an honourable enterprize, they were buried in Westminster Abbey, among heroes, statesmen, and poets. The thanks of congress, with a medal, an annuity, and a farm, were bestowed on the three young volunteers, and lately a handsome monument has been erected by the corporation of New York, to John Paulding, at Peekskill, where his body was buried. The other two, Isaac Van Wart and David Williams, still survive.
"About half a quarter of a mile south of Clark's Kill Bridge, on the high road, formerly stood the great tulip, or whitewood tree, which being the most conspic- uous object in the immediate vicinity, has been usually designated as the spot where Andre was taken and searched. It was one of the most magnificent of trees , one hundred and eleven feet and a half high, the limbs projecting on either side more than eighty feet from the trunk, which was ten paces round. More than twenty years ago it was struck by lightning, and its old weather beaten trunk so shivered that it fell to the ground, and it was remarked by the old people, that on the very same day, they for the first time read in the newspapers the death of Arnold. Arnold lived in England on a pension, which we believe is still con- tinued to his children. His name was always coupled even there with infamy; insomuch that when the Duke of Richmond, Lord Shelburne, and other violent opponents of the American revolutionary war, were appointed to office, the late Duke of Lauderdale remarked, that 'If the king wished to employ traitors, he wondered that he should have overlooked Benedict Arnold.' For this he was called out by Arnold, and they exchanged shots, but without effect. Since then we know nothing of Arnold's history, till his death. He died as he lived the latter years of his life, an object of detestation to his countrymen, of contempt to the rest of the world.
"There is a romantic interest attached to the incidents just recorded, which will always make the capture of Andre a popular story; and the time will come when it will be chosen as the subject of poetry and the drama, as it has been of history and tradition. There is already a play founded upon it by Mr. William Dunlap, the writer and translator of many dramatic works. Mr. Dunlap has however we think committed a mistake in which however he is countenanced by most other writers-that of making Andre his hero. There is also extant a history of the whole affair, written by Joshua Hett Smith, the person who accompanied Andre across the river from Haverstraw, and whose memory is still in some measure implicated in the treason of Arnold. It is written with much passion and pre- judice, and abounds in toryisms. Neither Washington, Greene, nor any of the members of the court martial escape the most degrading imputations: and the three young men who captured Andre are stigmatized with cowardice, as well as treachery! The history is the production of a man, who seems to have had but one object, that of stigmatizing the characters of others, with a view of bolstering up his own. Washington and Greene require no guardians to defend their memory, at one time assailed by women and dotards, on the score of having, the one presided at the just condemnation of a spy; the other of having refused his pardon to the threats and bullyings of the enemy. The reputations of the three young captors of Andre have also been attacked, where one would least of all expect it-in the congress of the United States, where some years ago an honourable member, denounced them as Cow Boys; and declared to the house that Major Andre had assured him, he would have been released, could he have made good his promises of great reward from Sir Henry Clinton. The characters of these men, were triumphantly vindicated by the publication of the testimony of nearly all the aged inhabitants of Westchester who bore ample testimony to the purity of their lives and the patriotism of their motives. The slander is forgotten, and if its author be hereafter remembered, no one will envy him his reputation."
Tarry town is still farther distinguished, by being within a mile or two of Sleepy Hollow, the scene of a pleasant legend of our friend Goeffrey Crayon, with whom in days long past we have often explored this pleasant valley, fishing along the brooks, though he was beyond all question the worst fisherman we ever knew. He had not the patience of Job's wife-and without patience no man can be a philosopher or a fisherman.