New York State History

Stone Ridge, New Paltz, Names, Libertyville, Jenkinstown, Wallkill,
Indian Dam.

The Marbletown of 1664 has so completely vanished from the face of the earth that even its exact location is not now known. As the need for protection against the Indians became less and less the farmers gradually abandoned the village for their farms, until finally the last man moved, and now not one stone remains upon another to tell where its fifty-three houses stood, although the present hamlet of the same name is presumed to be about on the same site. But even so our Marble-town of to-day boasts one old house, that of Janitje Davis, Widow Davis, where the annual meetings of the inhabitants were held and the public business transacted from 1730 to 1770, and possibly on into the next century.

Nearly opposite this stood the house of Andrew Oliver, to which the Council of Safety fled from Kingston, and where it held its meetings for about a month, October 19th to November 14th, thus making Marbletown the second capital of the state.

When Marbletown was abandoned the church organization was moved to Stone Ridge, so that many of the early church records which continued the use of the first name really refer to matters in the latter place. Stone Ridge is quite a village. As I entered it on this Fall afternoon the impression of many Summer boarding houses fixed itself, without any very obvious reason, for no Summer boarders were in sight at that time of the year.

Stone Ridge was the home of Major Cornelius E. Wynkoop, with whom General Washington spent the night of November 15, 1782. The illustrious guest is said to have occupied the front room of the second story at the southwestern corner of the house. Across the street stands the former home of Johannes Tack, in which, it is said, Judge Levi Pawling organized the first court of sessions after the burning of Kingston.

My schedule is supposed to be subject to change without notice, and, though New Paltz was down as the last stop for the day, I should have remained over night at Stone Ridge and gone on the next morning in orderly fashion, but such was my state of mind that New Paltz suddenly became a necessity, and what lies between is an unknown country, except as the map shows, for, but two miles away at Binnewater, ran the railroad, and thither I walked by the light of departing day.

A purple light that never was before lay on the nearby eastern hills, as transparent as the crystal waters of the Florida east coast. It overlay the green of the grass, the browned leaves of the oaks and the gray of the naked granite, all colors seen through it, and yet all toned with purple. As I trudged
onward to Binnewater the scene gradually became of the impressionistic school. Detail was lost as the landscape darkened, the hills swam faintly through the purple haze until night came down, and the cold drove me on toward the distant lights where supper lay.

Mr. Ralph Le Fevre, the New Paltz historian, was my one good excuse for hurry, as an evening interview sets matters right for the following morning and does not consume valuable daylight. Mr. Le Fevre proved to be as amiable as learned, and before the evening was out I was possessed of such facts as would interest the camera when the time came.

All the old New Paltz houses are on Huguenot Street, along whose margin the first settlers are believed to have built their log cabins. If we begin at the south end of the street we must begin with the dead, for here is the old burial ground with stones dating back to October 7, 1731. The gravestone of Abraham Du Bois, "Survivor of 12 Patentees" is merely a. flat field stone set on end, but is the only known resting place of any of the twelve men who secured the original patents to this region. There are other graves of interest, the deciphering of whose stones is largely a matter of conjecture, for in the early days initials were allowed to do the work of words, and what they stand for sometimes puzzles the antiquarian.

Across the street from the old graveyard stands the Jean Hasbrouck house, 1712, which housed six generations of Has-broucks before it passed out of the family. This has recently been purchased as a memorial to the first settlers and contains an interesting museum of antiquities.

Next, on the right as we proceed north, is the Abraham Deyo house, son of Christian, the patentee, but its recent owners have improved it to death.

On the left comes the original Du Bois house with its date, 1705, on the east wall facing the street (same year as the Salisbury house in Leeds). This was probably a refuge in time of need, as the portholes in its walls indicate.

Now we will cross again to the original Bevier house, the Elting store before the Revolution. Between this and the store down the street in the Hasbrouck house existed a competition which was not only the life of trade, but furnished food for much gossip as well. A late addition to this building was made in 1735.

Next north is the Abraham Hasbrouck homestead, original patentee, and still in the Hasbrouck family. And beyond is the Freer house; at least it was one hundred and sixty years ago, before the Freer family left these parts.

Those of us who can trace our ancestry back for three hundred years think we are doing very well by ourselves, but I have recently heard a well authenticated story of a Hebrew in Australia who is in a class all by himself. Owning an extensive ranch he invited a group of strangers to visit his domain, and, as it happened, the day after their arrival was Christmas. On that morning he approached one of his visitors with the statement that he appreciated the Christian sentiment in regard to the day and hoped his guests would follow their usual customs on this occasion, ending with the statement
that he had no feeling in the matter himself as his family was in Spain at the time and knew nothing of the persecution or death of Christ. In other words, he could follow his line back for nineteen hundred years or more. Makes most of us look as though we were still shining through our first coat of varnish.

The study of names is always an interesting one, and particularly so of these old Dutch and French names. Du Bois, "of the wood"; Deyo (d'eau), "of the water". Hasbrouck (what does it mean?) has been written Hasbroocq, and Broocq without the prefix Has. Dr. Van Slyke credits his reverend brother, Dr. Vermilyea, with the following explanation of the De Witt patronymic: When the Le Blancs of Rochelle fled to Holland to avoid persecution they Dutchified the name to De Witt, still meaning "the White". Ten Eyck stands for "the Oak" as Demarest does for "the Marshes". Jan's son was known as Jansen. There are in Bergen County, N. J., interesting variations which show how closely allied in some instances are families whose present names are wholly dissimilar, as the early settlers often dropped the last name, even in so important a matter as the signing of deeds; thus Hendrick Epke Banta has placed his name on a deed simply as Hendrick Epke, and Hendrick Jorisen Brinkerhoff as Hendrick Jorisen, and in some cases the surname was never resumed, and the result is that the Bantas and Epkes are cousins from the same male stock, likewise the Brinkerhoffs and Jorisens. Another instance is that of the Van Riper name. The original immigrant was Jurean Tomassen, from the town of Reipen. Jurean Tomassen was Jurean, son of Tomas. There may have been a confusion among the sons of Tomas and a necessity for distinguishing one from the other, or there may have been some other reason, but whatever it was, this branch of the family followed a. custom of the times when he added to his name Van Reipen. This, as time rolled on, became Van Riper, as we have it to-day, but time was doing even more wonderful things with the first name, Jurean, for some of the first settler's descendants adopted this as their Christian name and it was twisted and turned and worked over, finally emerging as Yereance. Thus are the Van Ripers and the Yereances from the same stock.

An oak tree at the residence of A. M. Lowe, on the Paltz Plains, is the last surviving member of a long-lived family that flourished hundreds of years ago. Its brother, when cut down many years since, showed rings to prove that it had faced 478 Winters, and the present standard bearer is believed to have all of 500 years to his credit.

Dominie Bonrepose, good sleeper, was the suggestive name of one of the New Paltz early ministers.

During its early days New Paltz boasted of a. citizen who bore the singular name of Rampant. It was probably given to him for cause, if the following legend is true: While running for the rendezvous on the occasion of an Indian alarm, our friend Rampant, being heavy, became mired. His companions discovering his absence returned to find their neighbor with a dead Indian beside him, he having seized the redskin by the throat and smothered him in the mud. There are certain details which the legend does not go into, nor does it seem to us that it does the gentleman full justice. Why not two Indians, one in each hand? He might even have cared for three, by sitting on the last-the legend says he was heavy. However, legends are legends. We must take what is handed out to us and ask no questions.

From New Paltz I took the west side of the Wallkill River to Libertyville. The road keeps in touch with the stream on the one hand, while on the other the view keeps in touch with old Sky Top, with which all those who haunt Mohawk are so familiar. The air was a bit too thick to do the mountains full justice, and the less distinctive ridges were not so readily identified.

The Libertyville neighborhood is roughly picturesque. The mill building as it stands dates back one hundred and two years, occupying a spot that was a mill site for some time before that. This is a Du Bois neighborhood, Salomon and Louis being the original settlers. It seems that this is the spot to which came the last remnant of the Indians to sell baskets, but finally one of them was drowned in the Wallkill, and they came no more, claiming that the drowned man had "spooked" them.

My map seemed to indicate a bridge across the stream here, and here it was my expectation to cross for Jenkinstown, but the crossing turned out to be a ford, and not a wagon going my way in sight. However, on the still water above were some fishermen, one of whom put me across. He proved to be an Illinois farmer who had come back to the old homestead, and glad enough to be among the hills again, even if his farm had fallen on stony ground. At the east end of the ford stands the house of Lewis J. Du Bois, a captain in the regiment of Joseph Hasbrouck during the Revolution. I found some of the Du Bois golden russets very acceptable eating as I trudged up the long hill which carries the road out of the Wallkill valley.

Jenkinstown deserves an artist. He could work on its picture possibilities for some time without appreciably diminishing the supply. It is just a mill and a blacksmith shop, a store and the old Jenkins homestead, but they have been so long fitting themselves into the landscape that they all belong there. The place is so thoroughly Jenkinsized that there does not seem to be much room for any one else, though the surrounding country is allowed to trade at the store, I believe.

It was a legend which brought me this way. There was a time when Jenkinstown held a citizen whose name was used to scare naughty children into prompt obedience, whose reputation was that of a strong man who had made his peace with the Devil, whose little low stone house was always guarded at night by a band of encircling ghosts, and even today it is whitewashed to that extent that it would pass for a ghost itself on the proper kind of a night. Many a queer story has made the rounds of the neighboring firesides concerning the evil doings under that squat roof. Perhaps that one which tells how our hero visited the hut of an Indian and sent the squaw off on some errand, while he carefully deposited the papoose left behind in a pot of boiling water which was bubbling over the fire will explain his gentle nature as well as any. Naturally the Indians felt offended, and are said to have kept Mr. man busy thereafter dodging things, but they do not seem to have caught him, or, if they did, it was after the legend had retired, and we can only imagine his latter end. It was probably hot enough either way, whether Indian or Devil got him.

Tansy was a favorite herb with the Indians, and it is said that the sites of their bark wigwams were marked by clumps of its growth long after the last vestige of the cause had disappeared. Tansy is one of the most beautiful combinations of lemon yellow and soft green that the wayside provides, and the fact that it may mark the long-gone habitation of the original owner of the soil does not detract from its interest.

How to get out of Jenkinstown was the next question. The road went a long way around, but there lay the fields, and the map told how the straight way for Ireland Corners was on the other side-not that I wanted Ireland Corners, but it was in the way of my going, as was also New Hurley, whose imposing church so overawes the little hamlet that it seems even more insignificant than the facts would warrant.

Wallkill was down as the next stop. It looks all right on the map, and possibly it is, but if it is my impressions are all wrong. In the first place the station agent, my usual hotel guide, was so noncommittal as regards the choice of stopping places that I was compelled to put my trust in luck. Luck shortly turned up in the shape of a fat boy, who thought the Commercial House was the best, after I had passed that dismal possibility with the resolve that it would be better to try the Jansen. When my young friend announced that his pop ran the Commercial doubt again held sway, but the boy was not only fat, he was jolly, and that finally settled the matter. My hope is, for the sake of the Jansen's guests, that the boy was biased. Then it was raw and penetratingly cold outside, and stuffy and unwholesome within, but an introduction to one of Wallkill's citizens gave me an opportunity to dodge the hotel and spend the evening in comfort.

The next morning was about as unfriendly as it well could be, at least so it seemed at the time, but by noon the morning's weather seemed quite passable as compared with the present unpleasantness. By then a fine rain was coming down from the north before a wind whose cool breath was searching every joint of my armor. I was bound for Marlboro by way of Platte-kill, at which latter place is a dam of unknown origin, locally known as the "Indian dam". Mr. Ralph Lefevre, however, who taught school here when a young man, and knows the place well, thinks the construction is the work of the white man, probably of some early inhabitant, all record of whose occupancy has been lost. So far as known, the first settlement here was made about the close of the Revolution, before which it was supposed to be a wild and unbroken wilderness.

When Mr. A. Van Dusen, whose postoffice is Gardiner, and habitation is Plattekill, came along with a vacant seat and offered to take me in out of the wet I promptly showed appreciation of the offer, and reached Newburgh, ten miles away, without further effort.