HE localities more immediately associated with the brief career of Andre during his hapless connection with Arnold, now commands our attention, for toward Haverstraw I next journeyed. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I crossed the ferry at Verplanck's Point in a small row-boat This was the old King's Ferry of the Revolution, where the good Washington so often crossed, and where battalion after battalion of troops, royal, French, and American, at various times spanned the Hudson with their long lines of flat-boats, for it was the main crossing-place of armies moving between the Eastern and Middle States. It was here, too, that a portion of the forces of Burgoyne crossed the Hudson when on their march from Massachusetts to Virginia.
The landing-place on the Stony Point side, in former times, was in the cove at the opening of the marsh, on the north of the promontory; now the western terminus of the ferry is a little above, at the cottage of Mr Tenyck, the jolly old ferryman, who has plied the oar there, almost without intermission, ever since 1784. He was sitting upon his door-stone when his son moored the boat at its rock-fastening; and, as we ascended the bank, the old man held up a bottle of whisky, and proffered a draught as a pledge of welcome to the "millionth man" that had crossed his ferry. Preferring milk to whisky, I sat down under the rich-leaved branches of a maple, and regaled myself with that healthful beverage. While the veteran and two of his neighbors were enjoying the aqua vitæ.
I sketched the old King's Ferry sign-board, with its device, which was nailed to a sapling near, and then, accompanied by the old man and his companions, started for a ramble over the rough site of the fort on Stony Point. Upon its ancient mounds I sat and listened for an hour to the adventurous tales of the octogenarian, until the long shadows of the mountains warned me that the day was fast waning, when I hastened to make the drawings upon pages 744 and 746. At sunset, accompanied by one of the men as bearer of my light baggage, I started on foot for the neighborhood of Haverstraw. The road passes through a truly romantic region, made so by nature, history, and tradition. I stopped often to view the beautiful river prospect on the southeast, while the outlines of the distant shores were imperceptibly fading as the twilight came on. At dusk we passed an acre of ground, lying by the roadside on the right, which was given