Rhinecliff, with its historic Beekman stone
house, is on the east bank of the river opposite Kingston.
The old mansion, on the hillside, above the landing, was
built before 1700 by William Beekman, first patroon of this
section. It was used as a church and as a fort during the
Indian struggles and still preserves the scar of a cannon
ball from a British ship.
Ferncliff, a mile north of the Beekman House, is the home of
John Jacob Astor, formerly the property of William Astor,
and above this
Clifton Point, once known as the Garretson place, the noted
Methodist preacher whose wife was sister of Chancellor
Livingston, and above this Douglas Merritt's home known as "Leacote."
Flatbush landing lies on the west bank opposite Ferncliff.
One might almost imagine from the names of places and
individuals here grouped on both banks of the river, that
this reach of the Hudson was a bit of old Scotland:
Montgomery Place and Annandale with its Livingstons,
Donaldsons and Kidds on the east side, and Glenerie, Glasgo
and Lake Katrine on the west.
Barrytown is just above "Daisy Island," on the east bank, 96
miles from New York. It is said when General Jackson was
President, and this village wanted a postoffice, that he
would not allow it under the name of Barrytown, from
personal dislike to General Barry, and suggested another
name; but the people were loyal to their old friend, and
went without a postoffice until a new administration. The
name of Barrytown, therefore, stands as a monument to pluck.
The place was once known as Lower Red Hook Landing. Passing
"Massena," the Aspinwall property, we see—
Montgomery Place
Montgomery Place, residence of Carleton Hunt
and sisters, about one-half mile north of
Barrytown, formerly occupied by Mrs.
Montgomery, wife of General Montgomery and
sister of Chancellor Livingston. The
following dramatic incident connected with
Montgomery Place is recorded in Stone's
"History of New York City": "In 1818 the
legislature of New York—DeWitt Clinton,
Governor—ordered the remains of General
Montgomery to be removed from Canada to New
York. This was in accordance with the wishes
of the Continental Congress, which, in 1776,
had voted the beautiful cenotaph to his
memory that now stands in the wall of St.
Paul's Church, fronting Broadway. When the
funeral cortege reached Whitehall, N. Y.,
the fleet stationed there received them with
appropriate honors; and on the 4th of July
they arrived in Albany. After lying in state
in that city over Sunday, the remains were
taken to New York, and on Wednesday
deposited, with military honors, in their
final resting place, at St. Paul's. Governor
Clinton had informed Mrs. Montgomery of the
hour when the steamer 'Richmond,' conveying
the body, would pass her home. At her own
request, she stood alone on the portico. It
was forty years since she had parted from
her husband, to whom she had been wedded but
two years when he fell on the heights of
Quebec; yet she had remained faithful to the
memory of her 'soldier,' as she always
called him. The steamboat halted before the
mansion; the band played the 'Dead March,'
and a salute was fired; and the ashes of the
venerated hero, and the departed husband,
passed on. The attendants of the Spartan
widow now appeared, but, overcome by the
tender emotions of the moment, she had
swooned and fallen to the floor."
The Sawkill Creek flows through a beautiful
ravine in Montgomery grounds and above this
is the St. Stephen's College and Preparatory
School of the Episcopal Church in the
Diocese of New York. Beyond and above this
are Mrs. E. Bartlett's home and Deveaux
Park, afterwards Almonte, the property of
Col. Charles Livingston. We are now
approaching Cruger's Island, with its
indented South Bay reaching up toward the
bluff crowned by Montgomery Place. There is
an old Indian tradition that no person ever
died on this island, which a resident
recently said still held true. It is
remarkable, moreover, in possessing many
antique carved stones from a city of Central
America built into the walls of a temple
modeled after the building from which the
graven stones were brought. The "ruin" at
the south end of the island is barely
visible from the steamer, hidden as it is by
foliage, but it is distinctly seen by New
York Central travelers in the winter season.
Colonel Cruger has spared no expense in the
adornment of his grounds, and a beautiful
drive is afforded the visitor. The island is
connected by a roadway across a tongue of
land which separates the North from the
South Bay. Above this island east of the
steamer's channel across the railway of the
New York Central, we see a historic bit of
water known as—
The North Bay. It was here that Robert
Fulton developed his steamboat invention,
receiving pecuniary aid from Chancellor
Livingston, and it is fitting to give at
this place a concise account of
Steam Navigation
Steam
Navigation, which after many attempts and
failures on both sides of the Atlantic was
at last crowned with success on the Hudson.
John Fitch first entertained his idea of a
steamboat in 1785, and sent to the general
assembly of the State of Pennsylvania a
model in 1786. New Jersey and Delaware in
1787, gave him exclusive right to navigate
their waters for fourteen years, which,
however, was never undertaken. His steamboat
"Perseverance," on the Delaware in 1787, was
eighteen feet in length and six feet beam.
The name, however, was a misnomer, as it was
abandoned. These facts appear by papers on
file in the State Library at Albany. After
his experiment on the Delaware, he traveled
through France and England, but not meeting
with the encouragement that he expected,
became poor and returned home, working his
passage as a common sailor. In 1797 he
constructed a little boat which was
propelled by steam in the old Collect Pond,
New York, below Canal Street, between
Broadway and the East River.
According to records in the State Library,
the steam was sufficiently high to propel
the boat once, twice, or thrice around the
pond. "When more water being introduced into
the boiler or pot and steam was generated,
she was again ready to start on another
expedition." The boat was a yawl about
eighteen feet in length and six feet beam.
She was started at the buoy with a small oar
when the propeller was used. The boiler was
a ten or twelve gallon iron pot. This boat
with a portion of the machinery was
abandoned by Fitch, and left to decay on the
muddy shore. Shortly after this he died in
Kentucky in 1798. Had he lived, or, had the
fortune like Fulton, to find such a patron
as Livingston, his success might have been
assured. His visit to Europe may have
inspired Symington's experiment on
Dalswinton Loch in 1788, which made five
miles an hour, and another steamboat on the
Forth of Clyde which made seven miles an
hour in 1789, and the "Charlotte Dundas" in
1802, which drew a load of seventy tons over
three miles against a strong gale.
Something, however, was wanting and the idea
of successful navigation was abandoned in
Britain till after the invention of Robert
Fulton which made steam navigation an
assured fact.
"How necessary it is to succeed," said
Kosciusko, at the grave of Washington, and
this is also as true in the story of
invention as in the struggle for freedom:
"That they never fail who die in a great
cause though years elapse, and others share
as dark a doom. They but augment the deep
and sweeping thoughts which overpower all
others and conduct the world at last to
fortune."
It was the writer's privilege in 1891, to
deliver the unveiling address of a monument
to Symington at his birthplace, Lead Hills,
Scotland. In the tribute then paid to the
genius of the great Scotchman who had done
so much for invention in many directions, he
said the difference between Symington and
Fulton was this: "Each worked diligently at
the same idea, but it was the good fortune
of Fulton, so far as the steamboat was
considered, to make his 'invention' 'go.'"
To quote from a British writer, the "Comet"
of Henry Bell on the Clyde in 1812, was the
first example of a steamboat brought into
serviceable use within European waters, and
the writer incidentally added that steam
navigation in Britain took practical form
almost on the spot where James Watt, the
illustrious improver of the steam engine was
born. The word "improver" is well put. It
has much to do with the story of many
inventions. The labor of Fitch was
far-reaching in many directions, and it
detracts nothing from Fulton's fame that the
experiments of Fitch and Symington preceded
his final triumph.
Rumsey's claim to the idea of application of
steam in 1785 does not seem to hold good.
General Washington, to whom he referred as
to a conversation in 1785, replied to a
correspondent that the idea of Rumsey, as he
remembered and understood it, was simply the
propelling of a boat by a machine, the power
of which was to be merely manual labor.
Robert Fulton
Robert Fulton was born in 1765, and at the
time of Symington's experiment in Scotland,
was twenty-three years of age. He was then
an artist student of Benjamin West, in
London, but, after several years of study,
felt that he was better adapted for
engineering, and soon thereafter wrote a
work on canal navigation. In 1797 he went to
Paris. He resided there seven years and
built a small steamboat on the Seine, which
worked well, but made very slow progress.
It is remarkable that the two most practical
achievements of our century have been
consummated by artists, the telegraph by
Morse after a score of "invented" failures,
and the successful application of steam to
navigation by Fulton.
Soon after his return to New York he brought
his idea to successful completion. His
reputation was now assured, and his
invention of "torpedoes" gave him additional
fame. Congress not only purchased these
instruments of warfare, but also set apart
$320,000 for a steam frigate to be
constructed under his supervision.
Through Livingston's influence the
legislature passed an act granting to Fulton
the exclusive privilege of navigating the
waters of the State by means of steam power.
The only conditions imposed were that he
should, within a year, construct a boat of
not less than "twenty tons burthen," which
should navigate the Hudson at a speed not
less than four miles an hour, and that one
such boat should not fail of running
regularly between New York and Albany for
the space of one year.
The Clermont
"The Clermont," named after the ancestral
home of the Livingstons, was built for
"Livingston and Fulton," by Charles Brownne
in New York. The machinery came from the
works of Watt and Bolton, England. She left
the wharf of Corlear's Hook and the
newspapers published with pride that she
made in speed from four to five miles an
hour. She was 100 feet in length and boasted
of "three elegant cabins, one for the ladies
and two for the gentlemen, with kitchen,
library, and every convenience." She
averaged 100 passengers up or down the
river. Every passenger paid $7, for which he
had dinner, tea and bed, breakfast and
dinner, with the liberty to carry 200 pounds
of baggage.
An original letter from Robert Fulton to the
minister of Bavaria at the court of France,
written in 1809, upon the question of
putting steamboats on the Danube, is of
interest at the present day: "The distance
from New York to Albany is 160 miles; the
tide rises as far as Albany; its velocity is
on an average 1 ½ miles an hour.
We thus have the tide half the time in favor
of the boat and half the time against her.
The boat is 100 feet long, 16 feet wide and
7 feet deep; the steam engine is of the
power of 20 horses; she runs 4 ½ miles an
hour in still water. Consequently when the
tide is 1 ½ miles an hour in her favor she
runs 5 ¾ miles an hour. When the tide is
against her she runs 2 ¾ miles an hour. Thus
in theory her average velocity is 4 ¼ miles
an hour, but in practice we take advantage
of the currents. When they are against us we
keep near shore in the eddies, where the
current is weak or the eddy in our favor;
when the tide is in our favor we take the
centre of the stream and draw every
advantage from it. In this way our average
speed is 5 miles an hour, and we run to
Albany, 160 miles, in about 32 hours."
Previous to the invention of the steamboat
there were two modes of conveyance. One was
by the common sloops; they charged 42
francs, and were on the average four days in
making the passage—they have sometimes been
as long as eight days. The dread of such
tedious voyages prevented great numbers of
persons from going in sloops. The second
mode of conveyance was the mail, or stage.
They charged $8, or 44 francs, and the
expenses on the road were about $5, or 30
francs, so that expenses amounted to $13.
The time required was 48 hours. The
steamboat has rendered the communication
between New York and Albany so cheap and
certain that the number of passengers are
rapidly increasing. Persons who live 150
miles beyond Albany know the hour she will
leave that city, and making their
calculations to arrive at York, stay two
days to transact business, return with the
boat, and are with their families in one
week. The facility has rendered the boat a
great favorite with the public.
A telegram from Exeter, N. H., in 1886,
recorded the death of Dr. William Perry, the
oldest person in Exeter and the oldest
graduate of Harvard College, at the age of
ninety-eight years. He was the sole survivor
of the passengers on Fulton's first
steamboat on its first trip down the Hudson,
and the connecting link of three generations
of progress. He was born in 1788, was a
member of 1811 in Harvard, and grandfather
of Sarah Orne Jewett, the authoress.
The writer remembers his grandfather telling
him of going to Hudson as a boy to see the
"steamboat" make its first trip, and how it
had been talked of for a long time as
"Fulton's Folly." One thing is sure it was a
small cradle wherein to rock the
"baby-giant" of a great century. How Fulton
would wonder if he could visit to-day the
great steamships born of his
invention—successors of the "Clermont" of
"Twenty tons burthen." How he would marvel,
standing on the deck of the "Hendrick
Hudson," to see the water fall away from the
prow cut by a rainbow scimitar of spray! at
the great engines of polished steel, working
almost noiselessly, and wonder at the way
the pilot lands at the docks, even as a
driver brings his buggy to a horse-block;
for in his day, and long afterwards,
passengers were "slued" ashore in little
boats, as it was not regarded feasible to
land a steamboat against a wharf. It would
surely be an "experience" for us to see the
passengers at West Point, Newburgh, or
Poughkeepsie "slued ashore" to-day in little
rowboats.
Tivoli, above North Bay took its name from a
pre-revolutionary "Chateau," home of the
late Colonel DePeyster. The "Callender
Place" to the southeast, was formerly the
property of Johnston Livingston. Two miles
from the river is the home of Mr. J. N.
Lewis, a morning view from whose veranda is
still remembered, and it is to him that the
writer is indebted for a pleasant trip to
the ruins on Cruger's Island. The residence
of the late J. Watts DePeyster stands on a
commanding bluff north of the railway
station and it was beside his open fireside
many years ago that he told the writer how
his house was saved from Vaughan's cannon.
"Rose Hill," was mistaken for "Clermont,"
but a well-stocked cellar mollified the
British captain.
It grew like one of the old English family
houses, with the increase of the family,
until, in strange but picturesque
outline—the prevailing style being Italian,
somewhat in the shape of a cross—it is now
114 feet long by 87 feet deep. The tower in
the rear, devoted to library purposes, rises
to the height of about sixty feet. This
library, first and last, has contained
between twenty and thirty thousand volumes.
Such indefinite language is used, because
the owner donated over half this number to
the New York Historical Society, the New
York Society Library, and a number of other
similar organizations in different parts of
the United States. As a working library,
replete with dictionaries and cyclopædias,
in many tongues and on almost every subject,
it is a marvel. It is likewise very valuable
for its collections on military and several
other special topics. From it was selected
and given to the New York Historical
Society, one of the finest possible
collections on the History of Holland, from
the earliest period down to the present
time. "Rose Hill" was left in his will to
the Leake and Watts Orphan Home.
A ferry from Tivoli to Saugerties affords
communication between the two villages.
Glasco Landing, on the west bank, lies
between the residences of Henry Corse, on
the south, and Mrs. Vanderpool (sister of
the late President Martin Van Buren), on the
north.
In locating the residences along the river
and dealing so often in the words "north"
and "south," we are reminded of a good story
of Martin Van Buren. It is said that it was
as difficult to get a direct answer from him
as from Bismarck or Gladstone. Two friends
were going up with him one day on a river
boat and one made a wager with the other
that a direct answer could not be secured on
any question from the astute statesman. They
approached the ex-president and one of them
said, "Mr. Van Buren, my friend and I have
had a little discussion; will you tell us,
does or does not the sun rise in the east?"
The ex-president calmly drew up a chair, and
said, "You must remember that the east and
west are merely relative terms." "That
settles it," said the questioner, "I'll pay
the bet."
Saugerties, 101 miles from New York. From its location (being the nearest of the river towns to the Catskills), it naturally hoped to secure a large share of tourist travel, but Kingston and Catskill presented easier and better facilities of access and materially shortened the hours of arrival at the summit. Plaaterkill Clove, wilder and grander than Kaaterskill Clove, about nine miles west of the village, has Plaaterkill Mountain, Indian Head, Twin Mountains and Sugar Loaf on the south, and High Peak and Round Top on the north. Its eighteen waterfalls not only give great variety to a pedestrian trip, but also ample field for the artist's brush. The Esopus, meeting the Hudson at Saugerties, supplies unfailing waterpower for its manufacturing industries, prominent among which are the Sheffield Paper Company, the Barkley Fibre Company (wood pulp), the Martin Company (card board) and a white lead factory. There are also large shipments of blue stone, evidences of which are seen in many places near at hand along the western bank. Many attractive strolls near Saugerties invite the visitor, notably the walk to Barkley Heights south of the Esopus. An extensive view is obtained from the West Shore Railroad station west of the village and the drive thereto. North of Saugerties will be seen the docks and hamlets of Malden, Evesport and West Camp, also the residences of J. G. Myers to the northwest of the Rock islet, and of H. T. Coswell, near which the steamer passes to the west of Livingston Flats. The west shore at West Camp was settled by exiles from the Palatinate, about 1710, and one of the old churches still stands a short distance inland. We are now in the midst of
Livingston Country
The Livingston Country, whose names and
memories dot the landscape and adorn the
history of the Hudson Valley. Dutchess and
Columbia Counties meet on the east bank
opposite that part of Saugerties where
Sawyer's Creek flows into the Hudson. "Idele"
was originally called the Chancellor Place.
"Clermont" is about half a mile to the
north, the home of Clermont Livingston, an
early manor house built by Robert R.
Livingston, who, next to Hamilton, was the
greatest New York statesman during our
revolutionary period. The manor church, not
seen from the river, is at the old village
of Clermont, about five miles due west from
the mansion. The Livingstons are of Scotch
ancestry and have an illustrious lineage.
Mary Livingston, one of the "four Marys" who
attended Mary Queen of Scots during her
childhood and education in France, was of
the same family. Robert Livingston, born in
1654, came to the Hudson Valley with his
father, and in 1686 purchased from the
Indians a tract of country reaching east
twenty-two miles to the boundary of
Massachusetts with a river frontage of
twelve miles. This purchase was created,
"the Lordship and Manor of Livingston," by
Governor Thomas Dongan. In 1692 Robert built
the manor house, but did not reside in it
for twenty years. He was a friend of Captain
Kidd and a powerful promoter of his
enterprises. The manor consisted of 260,000
acres. The estate of 13,000 acres, given to
his second son Robert, was called Clermont.
Philip, his first son, inherited 247,000
acres, by old-time primogeniture succession.
From each of these two families sprang a
line of vigorous and resolute men. Robert R.
Livingston, our revolutionary hero,
descended from the smaller estate, owned
"Clermont" at the time it was burned by the
British. It was soon rebuilt and Lafayette
was a guest at the mansion during his visit
to the United States in 1824.
Above West Camp landing on the west side, is
the boundary line between Ulster and Greene
Counties; Ulster having kept us company all
the way from Hampton Point opposite New
Hamburgh. Throughout this long stretch of
the river one industry must not be
overlooked, well described by John
Burroughs:
The Shad Industry
The Shad Industry.—"When the chill of the ice is out of the river and the snow and frost out of the air, the fishermen along the shore are on the lookout for the first arrival of shad. A few days of warm south wind the latter part of April will soon blow them up; it is true also, that a cold north wind will as quickly blow them back. Preparations have been making for them all winter. In many a farm-house or other humble dwelling along the river, the ancient occupation of knitting of fish-nets has been plied through the long winter evenings, perhaps every grown member of the household, the mother and her daughters as well as the father and his sons, lending a hand. The ordinary gill or drift-net used for shad fishing in the Hudson is from a half to three-quarters of a mile long, and thirty feet wide, containing about fifty or sixty pounds of fine linen twine, and it is a labor of many months to knit one. Formerly the fish were taken mainly by immense seines, hauled by a large number of men; but now all the deeper part of the river is fished with the long, delicate gill-nets that drift to and fro with the tide, and are managed by two men in a boat. The net is of fine linen thread, and is practically invisible to the shad in the obscure river current: it hangs suspended perpendicularly in the water, kept in position by buoys at the top and by weights at the bottom; the buoys are attached by cords twelve or fifteen feet long, which allow the net to sink out of the reach of the keels of passing vessels. The net is thrown out on the ebb tide, stretching nearly across the river, and drifts down and then back on the flood, the fish being snared behind the gills in their efforts to pass through the meshes. I envy fishermen their intimate acquaintance with the river. They know it by night as well as by day, and learn all its moods and phases. The net is a delicate instrument that reveals all the hidden currents and by-ways, as well as all the sunken snags and wrecks at the bottom. By day the fisherman notes the shape and position of his net by means of the line or buoys; by night he marks the far end of it with a lantern fastened upon a board or block. The night tides he finds differ from the day—the flood at night being much stronger than at other times, as if some pressure had been removed with the sun, and the freed currents found less hindrance. The fishermen have terms and phrases of their own. The wooden tray upon which the net is coiled, and which sits in the stern of the boat, is called a 'cuddy.' The net is divided into 'shots.' If a passing sloop or schooner catches it with her centre-board or her anchor, it gives way where two or three shoots meet, and thus the whole net is not torn. The top cord or line of the net is called a 'cimline.' One fisherman 'plugs' another when he puts out from the shore and casts in ahead of him, instead of going to the general starting place, and taking his turn. This always makes bad blood. The luck of the born fisherman is about as conspicuous with the gill-net as with the rod and line, some boats being noted for their great catches the season through. No doubt the secret is mainly through application to the business in hand, but that is about all that distinguishes the successful angler. The shad campaign is one that requires pluck and endurance; no regular sleep, no regular meals; wet and cold, heat and wind and tempest, and no great gains at last. But the sturgeon fishers, who come later and are seen the whole summer through, have an indolent, lazy time of it. They fish around the 'slack-water,' catching the last of the ebb and the first of the flow, and hence drift but little either way. To a casual observer they appear as if anchored and asleep. But they wake up when they have a 'strike,' which may be every day, or not once a week. The fishermen keep their eye on the line of buoys, and when two or more of them are hauled under, he knows his game has run foul of the net, and he hastens to the point. The sturgeon is a pig, without the pig's obstinacy. He spends much of the time rooting and feeding in the mud at the bottom, and encounters the net, coarse and strong, when he goes abroad. He strikes, and is presently hopelessly entangled, when he comes to the top and is pulled into the boat, like a great sleepy sucker. For so dull and lubbery a fish, the sturgeon is capable of some very lively antics; as, for instance, his habit of leaping full length into the air and coming down with a great splash. He has thus been known to leap unwittingly into a passing boat, to his own great surprise, and to the alarm and consternation of the inmates."
Germantown.—Germantown Station is now seen on the east bank, and between this and Germantown Dock, three miles to the north, is obtained the best view of the "Man in the Mountain," readily traced by the following outline: The peak to the south is the knee, the next to the north is the breast, and two or three above this the chin, the nose and the forehead. How often from the slope of Hillsdale, forty miles away on the western trend of the Berkshires, when a boy, playing by the fountain-heads of the Kinderhook and the Roeliffe Jansen's Creek, have I looked out upon this mountain range aglow in the sunset, and at even-tide heard my grandfather tell of his far-off journeys to Towanda, Pennsylvania, when he drove through the great Cloves of the Catskills, where twice he met "a bear" which retreated at the sound of his old flint-lock, and then when I went to sleep at night how I pulled the coverlet closer about my head, all on account of those two bears that had been dead for more than forty years.
The Man in the Mountain
The Catskills were called by the Indians On-ti-o-ras, or mountains of the sky, as they sometimes seem like clouds along the horizon. This range of mountains was supposed by the Indians to have been originally a monster who devoured all the children of the red men, until the great spirit touched him when he was going down to the salt lake to bathe, and here he remains. "Two little lakes upon the summit were regarded the eyes of the monster, and these are open all the summer; but in the winter they are covered with a thick crust or heavy film; but whether sleeping or waking tears always trickle down his cheeks. In these mountains, according to Indian belief, was kept the great treasury of storm and sunshine, presided over by an old squaw spirit who dwelt on the highest peak of the mountains. She kept day and night shut up in her wigwam, letting out only one at a time. She manufactured new moons every month, cutting up the old ones into stars," and, like the old Æolus of mythology, shut the winds up in the caverns of the hills:
Where Manitou
once lived and reigned,
Great Spirit of a race gone by,
And Ontiora lies enchained
With face uplifted to the sky.
New York Water Supply
The Catskill Mountains are now something
more than a realm of romance and poetry or a
mountain range of beauty along our western
horizon, for, from this time forth the old
squaw spirit will be kept busy with her
"Treasury of Tear Clouds," as the water
supply of New York is to come from these
mountain sources.
The Catskill Water Supply.—The cost of this
great undertaking is estimated at
$162,000,000. Four creeks: The Esopus,
Rondout, Schoharie and Catskill will
constitute the main source of supply. The
total area of the entire watershed is over
nine hundred square miles, and the supply
will exceed 800,000,000 gallons daily. The
work projected will bring to the city
500,000,000 gallons per day.
The Ashoken Reservoir, 12 miles long and two
miles wide, will hold 120,000,000,000
gallons. The Catskill Aqueduct supply from
Ashoken Reservoir will deliver the water
without pumping to Hill View Reservoir in
Yonkers high enough for gravity
distribution. It will take from ten to
fifteen years to complete the work, which is
begun none too early, as the population of
Greater New York will be over 5,000,000 in
1915, and its water consumption
1,000,000,000 gallons. In 1930 the
population will be 7,000,000 and will call
for a consumption of 100,000,000,000 gallons
daily. We are indeed "ancients of the earth
and in the morning of our times." From the
far limits of the gathering grounds some of
the water will flow 130 miles to reach the
city hall, and 20 miles further to the
southern extremity of Staten Island.
Between Old Cro' Nest and Cold Spring the
water will be syphoned under the Hudson
through a concrete tube six hundred feet
below the surface of the river.
The Croton Water Works, at a cost of about
$14,000,000, completed in 1842, were
regarded the greatest undertaking since the
Roman Aqueduct. Many improvements to meet
increased demand have been made since that
time. Fifty years from now it is quite
possible that the Catskill System will seem
like the Croton of to-day, as a small
matter, and our next step will be "An
Adirondack System," making the successive
steps of our water supply the Croton, the
Catskills and the Adirondacks.
It is fortunate that our city destined to be
the world's emporium, has everything at hand
needed for comfort and safety.
John Bigelow, the literary and political
link of the century, born at
Malden-on-the-Hudson, in 1817, was present
at the inauguration of the work at Cold
Spring, June, 1907. It was the writer's
privilege to meet him often on the Hudson
River steamers in the decade of 1870, and to
receive from him many graphic descriptions
of the early life and customs of the Hudson.
What memories must have thronged upon him as
he contrasted the life of three generations!
The Clover Reach
The Clover Reach.—We are now in what is known as The Clover Reach of the Hudson which extends to the Backerack near Athens. One mile above Germantown Dock stood Nine Mile Tree, a landmark among old river pilots so named on account of its marking a point nine miles from Hudson. Above this the Roeliffe Jansen's Kill flows into the river, known by the Indians as Saupenak, rising in Hillsdale within a few feet of Greenriver Creek, immortal in Bryant's verse. The Greenriver flows east into the Housatonic, the Jansen south into Dutchess County, whence it takes a northerly course until it joins the Hudson. The Burden iron furnaces above the mouth of the stream form an ugly feature in the landscape. This is the southern boundary of the Herman Livingston estate, whose house is one mile and a half further up the river, near Livingston Dock, beneath Oak Hill. Greenville station is now seen on the east bank, directly opposite Catskill Landing, which the steamer is now approaching.
Catskill, 111 miles from New York, was
founded in 1678 by the purchase of several
square miles from the Indians. The landing
is immediately above the mouth of the
Catskill or Kaaterskill Creek. It is said
that the creek and mountains derive their
name as follows: It is known that each tribe
had a totemic emblem, or rude banner; the
Mahicans had the wolf as their emblem, and
some say that the word Mahican means an
enchanted wolf. (The Lenni Lenapes, or
Delawares, had the turkey as their totem.)
Catskill was the southern boundary of the
Mahicans on the west bank, and here they set
up their emblem. It is said from this fact
the stream took the name of Kaaters-kill.
The large cat or wolf, similar in
appearance, forms the mark of King Aepgin on
his deed to Van Rensselaer. Perhaps,
however, the mountains at one time abounded
in these animals, and the name may be only a
coincidence. The old village, with its main
street, lies along the valley of the
Catskill Creek, not quite a mile from the
Catskill Landing, and preserves some of the
features of the days when Knickerbocker was
accustomed to pay it an annual visit. The
location seems to have been chosen as a
place of security—out of sight to one
voyaging up the river. The northern slope
now reveals fine residences, all of which
command extensive views. Just out of the
village proper, on a beautiful outlook,
stands the charming Prospect Park Hotel. The
drives and pedestrian routes in the vicinity
of Catskill are well condensed by Walton Van
Loan, a resident of the village, whose guide
to the Catskills is the best on this region
and will be of great service to all who
would like to understand thoroughly the
mountain district.
The Northern Catskills.—The northern and
southern divisions have been indicated not
so much as mountain divisions, but in order
to better emphasize the two routes, which
converge from Kingston and Catskill toward
each other, drawn by two principal points of
attraction, the Catskill Mountain House and
the Hotel Kaaterskill.
The Catskill Mountain House has been widely
known for almost a century. The original
proprietor had the choice of location in
1823, when the entire range was a vast
mountain wilderness, and he made excellent
selection for its site. It seems as if the
rocky balcony was especially reared two
thousand feet above the valley for a grand
outlook and restful resort. "What can you
see," exclaimed Natty Bumppo, one of
Cooper's favorite characters. "Why, all the
world;" and this is the feeling to-day of
everyone looking down from this point upon
the Hudson Valley.
The Mountain House Park has a valley
frontage of over three miles in extent, and
consists of 2,780 acres of magnificent
forest and farming lands, traversed in all
directions by many miles of carriage roads
and paths, leading to various noted places
of interest. The Crest, Newman's Ledge,
Bear's Den, Prospect Rock on North Mountain,
and Eagle Rock and Palenville Overlook on
South Mountain, from which the grandest
views of the region are obtained, are
contained in the property. It also includes
within its boundaries North and South Lakes,
both plentifully stocked with various kind
of fish and well supplied with boats and
canoes. The atmosphere is delightful,
invigorating and pure; the great elevation
and surrounding forest render it free from
malaria. The temperature is fifteen to
twenty degrees lower than at Catskill
Village, New York City or Philadelphia.
The Otis Elevating Railway
The Otis Elevating Railway, made possible by
the enterprise of the late Commodore Van
Santvoord, extends from Otis Junction on the
Catskill Mountain Railway to Otis Summit, a
noble altitude of the Catskill Range. The
incline railway, 7,000 feet in length,
ascends 1,600 feet and attains an elevation
of 2,200 feet above the Hudson River. "In
length, elevation, overcome and carrying
capacity it exceeds any other incline
railway in the world. It is operated by
powerful stationary engines and huge steel
wire cables, and the method employed is
similar to that used by the Otis Elevator
Company for elevators in buildings. Every
safeguard has been provided, so that an
accident of any kind is practically
impossible. Should the machinery break, the
cables snap or track spread, an ingenious
automatic device would stop the cars at
once. A passenger car and baggage car are
attached to each end of double cables which
pass around immense drums located at the top
of the incline. While one train rises the
other descends, passing each other midway.
By this arrangement trains carrying from
seventy-five to one hundred passengers can
be run in each direction every fifteen
minutes when necessary, the time required
for a trip being only ten minutes. This is a
vast improvement over the old way of making
the ascent of the mountains by stage, as it
reduces the time fully one and a half hours,
besides adding greatly to the pleasure of
the trip. The ride up the mountains on the
incline railway is a novel and delightful
experience, and is alone worth a visit to
the Catskills. As the train ascends, the
magnificent panorama of the valley of the
Hudson, extending for miles and miles, is
gradually unfolded; while the river itself,
like a ribbon of silver glistening in the
sun, and the Berkshire Hills in the distance
seem to rise to the view of the passenger.
At the summit of the incline passengers for
the Laurel House, Haines Corners, Ontiora,
Sunset, Twilight, Santa Cruz, Elka Park, and
Tannersville, take the trains of the
Kaaterskill Railroad, which connect with the
Otis Elevating Railway."
Two miles from the summit landing are the
Kaaterskill Falls. The upper fall 175 feet,
lower fall 85 feet. The amphitheatre behind
the cascade is the scene of one of Bryant's
finest poems:
"From greens
and shades where the Kaaterskill leaps
From cliffs where the wood flowers cling;"
and we recall the lines which express so
beautifully the well-nigh fatal dream
"Of that dreaming one
By the base of that icy steep,
When over his stiffening limbs begun
The deadly slumber of frost to creep."
About half-way up the old mountain carriage
road, is the place said to be the dreamland
of Rip Van Winkle—the greatest character of
American mythology, more real than the
heroes of Homer or the massive gods of
Olympus. The railway, however, has rather
dispensed with Rip Van Winkle's
resting-place. The old stage drivers had so
long pointed out the identical spot where he
slept that they had come to believe in it,
but his spirit still haunts the entire
locality, and we can get along without his
"open air bed chamber." It will not be
necessary to quote from a recent guide-book
that "no intelligent person probably
believes that such a character ever really
existed or had such an experience." The
explanation is almost as humorous as the
legend.
The Hotel Kaaterskill, whose name and fame
went over a continent even before it was
fairly completed, is located on the summit
of the Kaaterskill Mountain, three miles by
carriage or one by path from the Catskill
Mountain House. It is the largest mountain
hotel at this time in the world,
accommodating 1,200 guests, and the
Catskills have reason to feel proud of this
distinction. They have for many years had
the best-known legend—the wonderful and
immortal Rip Van Winkle. They have always
enjoyed the finest valley views of any
mountain outlook, and they have a right to
the best hotels.
It may seem antiquated and old-fashioned in
the midst of elevated railroads to speak of
mountain driveways, but that to Palenville,
as we last saw it, was a beautiful piece of
engineering—as smooth as a floor and
securely built. It looks as if it were
intended to last for a century, the stone
work is so thoroughly finished. The views
from this road are superior to anything we
have seen in the Catskills, and the great
sweep of the mountain clove recalls a Sierra
Nevada trip on the way to the Yosemite.
The writer will never forget another
Catskill drive fully twenty years ago.
Starting one morning with a pair of mustang
ponies from Phœnicia, we called at the
Kaaterskill, the Catskill Mountain House,
and the Laurel House, took supper at
Catskill Village, and reached New York that
evening at eleven o'clock. It is unnecessary
to say that we were on business—our book was
on the press—and we went as if one of the
printers' best-known companions was on our
trail.
Irving's description of his first voyage up
the river brings us more delicately and
gracefully down from these mountains to the
Hudson—the level highway to the sea. "Of all
the scenery of the Hudson, the Kaatskill
Mountains had the most witching effect on my
boyish imagination. Never shall I forget the
effect upon me of my first view of them,
predominating over a wide extent of
country—part wild, woody and rugged; part
softened away into all the graces of
cultivation. As we slowly floated along, I
lay on the deck and watched them through a
long summer's day, undergoing a thousand
mutations under the magical effects of
atmosphere; sometimes seeming to approach;
at other times to recede; now almost melting
into hazy distance, now burnished by the
setting sun, until in the evening they
printed themselves against the glowing sky
in the deep purple of an Italian landscape."