Part 10 (2/2)

_George Was.h.i.+ngton._

Tarrytown was the very heart of the debatable ground of the Revolution and many striking incidents mark its early history. In 1777 Vaughan's troops landed here on their way to attack Fort Montgomery, and here a party of Americans, under Major Hunt, surprised a number of British refugees while playing cards at the Van Ta.s.sel tavern. The major completely ”turned the cards” upon them by rus.h.i.+ng in with brandished stick, which he brought down with emphasis upon the table, remarking with genuine American brevity, ”Gentlemen, clubs are trumps.” Here, too, according to Irving, arose the two great orders of chivalry, the ”Cow Boys” and ”Skinners.” The former fought, or rather marauded under the American, the latter under the British banner; the former were known as ”Highlanders,” the latter as the ”Lower-Party.” In the zeal of service both were apt to make blunders, and confound the property of friend and foe. ”Neither of them, in the heat and hurry of a foray, had time to ascertain the politics of a horse or cow which they were driving off into captivity, nor when they wrung the neck of a rooster did they trouble their heads whether he crowed for Congress or King George.”

It was also a genial, reposeful country for the faithful historian, Diedrich Knickerbocker; and here he picked up many of those legends which were given by him to the world. One of these was the legend connected with the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow. ”A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say the place was bewitched by a high German doctor during the early days of the settlement; others that an old Indian chief, the wizard of his tribe, held his pow-wows there before Hendrick Hudson's discovery of the river. The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, is the apparition of a figure on horse-back, without a head, said to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, and was known at all the country firesides as the 'Headless horseman' of Sleepy Hollow.”

O waters of Pocantico!

Wild rivulet of wood and glen!

May thy glad laughter, sweet and low, Long, long outlive the sighs of men.

_S. H. Thayer._

[Ill.u.s.tration: SLEEPY HOLLOW CHURCH.]

=Sleepy Hollow.=--The Old Dutch Church, the oldest on the Hudson, is about one-half mile north from Tarrytown.

It was built by ”Frederick Filipse and his wife Katrina Van Cortland in 1690.” The material is partly of stone and partly of brick brought from Holland. It stands as an appropriate sentinel near the entrance to the burial-yard where Irving sleeps. After entering the gate our way leads past the graves of the Ackers, the Van Ta.s.sels, and the Van Warts, with inscriptions and plump Dutch cherubs on every side that often delighted the heart of Diedrich Knickerbocker. How many wors.h.i.+ppers since that November day in 1859, have come hither with reverent footsteps to read on the plain slab this simple inscription: ”Was.h.i.+ngton Irving, born April 3, 1783. Died November 28, 1859,” and recall Longfellow's beautiful lines:

”Here lies the gentle humorist, who died In the bright Indian Summer of his fame.

A simple stone, with but a date and name, Marks his secluded resting place beside The river that he loved and glorified.

Here in the Autumn of his days he came, But the dry leaves of life were all aflame With tints that brightened and were multiplied.

How sweet a life was his, how sweet a death; Living to wing with mirth the weary hours, Or with romantic tales the heart to cheer; Dying to leave a memory like the breath Of Summers full of suns.h.i.+ne and of showers, A grief and gladness in the atmosphere.”

If ever I should wish for a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little valley.

_Was.h.i.+ngton Irving._

Sleepy Hollow Church, like Sunnyside, is hidden away from the steamer tourist by summer foliage. Just before reaching Kingston Point light-house, a view, looking northeast up the little bay to the right, will sometimes give the outline of the building. Beyond this a tall granite shaft, erected by the Delavan family, is generally quite distinctly seen, and this is near the grave of Irving. A light-house, built in 1883, marks the point where the Pocantico or Sleepy Hollow Creek joins the Hudson:

Pocantico's hushed waters glide Through Sleepy Hollow's haunted ground, And whisper to the listening tide The name carved o'er one lowly mound.

To one loving our early history and legends there is no spot more central or delightful than Tarrytown. Irving humorously says that Tarrytown took its name from husbands tarrying too late at the village tavern, but its real derivation is Tarwen-Dorp, or Wheat-town. The name of the old Indian village at this point was Alipconck (the place of elms). It has often occurred to the writer that, more than any other river, the Hudson has a distinct personality, and also that the four main divisions of human life are particularly marked in the Adirondacks, the Catskills, the Highlands and Tappan Bay:

The Adirondacks, childhood's glee; The Catskills, youth with dreams o'ercast; The Highlands, manhood bold and free; The Tappan Zee, age come at last.

This was the spot that Irving loved; we linger by his grave at Sleepy Hollow with devotion; we sit upon his porch at Sunnyside with reverence:

Thrice blest and happy Tappan Zee, Whose banks along thy glistening tide Have legend, truth, and poetry Sweetly expressed in Sunnyside!

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