** The position of Colonel Livingston at Verplanck's Point, with some circumstances that appeared suspicious, made him liable to be distrusted, for it might fairly be presumed that he was directly or indirectly concerned in Arnold's movements. By a brief letter, Washington ordered Livingston to come to head-quarters immediately. Conscious of his integrity, that officer promptly obeyed, but he expected his conduct would be subjected to a strict investigation. Washington made no inquiries. He told him that he had more explicit orders to give than he could well communicate by letter, and that was the object of calling him to the Highlands. "It is a source of gratification to me," said the commander-in-chief, "that the post was in the hands of an officer so devoted as yourself to the cause of your country." Washington's confidence, was not misplaced, for there was not a purer patriot in that war than Henry Livingston.
*** Dwight's Travels in New England.
**** This view is taken from the Hudson River rail-road, looking north. The dock, covered with cord wood, is seen near the point on the left. It is at the termination of a marsh, near the point of a bold, rocky promontory, through which is a deep rock cutting for the road. The distant hills on the extreme left are on the west side of the Hudson; and through the gorge formed for the road may be seen the military edifices of West Point.
Buttermilk Falls.—Ride to Fort Montgomery.—Mrs. Rose.—A speculating Daughter.
fishing, and apparently unconscious that two hours had elapsed since we parted. He locked his oars, and in a few minutes we were at the foot of Buttermilk Falls. I clambered up the steep, rough road under the cliff, to the village, dined at a late hour upon cold mutton and stale bread, and in a light wagon, procured with difficulty for the occasion, set off, with a boy driver, for Fort Montgomery, about four miles below. For half the distance the road (which is the old military one of the Revolution) was smooth; the residue of the way was as rough as rocks and gulleys could make it. On every side huge bowlders, many of them ten feet in diameter, lie scattered over the bare flat rocks, like fruit shaken from a tree in autumn. They become more numerous toward the base of the steep mountain range on the west, where they lie in vast masses, like mighty pebbles rolled up by the waves upon the shore. Here the geologist has a wonderful page spread out for his contemplation.
Within a short distance of Fort Montgomery, we turned up a rough mountain road to visit an old lady named Rebecca Rose, eighty years of age, who lived close by Fort Montgomery at the time it was taken by the enemy. I found her upon a bed of sickness, too feeble then to converse, but at a subsequent visit she was well and communicative. She was a child only seven or eight years old, and has no distinct recollection of events at the taking of the forts, except her care and anxiety in concealing her rag babies in a sap trough, while her parents were hiding their property in the woods. Her father was a tanner and shoemaker, in the employ of the garrison at the two forts. The British tried to frighten him into the performance of the duty of a guide for them, by twice hauling him up to an apple-tree with a halter around his neck. He resolutely defied them, and they passed on. From the cottage of Mrs. Rose, among the hills, is one of the most magnificent views of rock and forest, cliff and river, imaginable; overlooking Forts Montgomery and Clinton, the Race flanked by Anthony's Nose and the Dunderberg, and the fertile hills of West Chester in the distance.
Near Mrs. Rose lived an old soldier who was wounded at the siege of Fort Montgomery. I found him living with his daughter, a little plump widow of fifty, in a cottage beside a clear stream that comes leaping down from the hills. He was a private in Captain De Vere's company, Colonel Dubois's regiment, and was bayoneted in the thigh when the enemy made their way over the ramparts of Fort Montgomery and fought the garrison hand to hand. Although nearly ninety years old, he was vigorous and talked sensibly. I asked the privilege of sketching his portrait, which he readily granted, and I was about unlocking my port-folio for the purpose, when his daughter, resting upon a broom handle, and assuming the shrewd look of a speculator, inquired, "What'll ye give?" "For what?" I inquired. "For daddy's likeness," she answered. Unacquainted with the market value of such commodities, and being doubtful as to the present sample possessing much intrinsic worth, I made the indefinite offer of "What is right."
"No, no," she said, tuning her voice to a higher key, and beginning to sweep the floor vigorously, "you sha'n't look at him till you tell me what you'll give. We've been cheated enough a'ready. Two scamps come along here last week, and told my darter they'd make a likeness on her for their breakfasts, and they on'y guv her a 'nasty piece of black paper, that had a nose no more like sis's than that tea-pot spout. No, sir; give me a half a dollar, or clear out quick!" The more fortunate silhouettists had evidently ruined my prospects for a gratuitous sitting of the old soldier; and feeling very doubtful whether the demanded half dollar, if paid, would add a mite to his comforts, I respectfully declined giving the price. The filial regard of the dear woman was terribly shocked, and she called me a cheat and other hard names. I shook hands with the old "Continentaler" as I rose to depart, and turning quietly to the dame, who was yet sweeping around the room in a towering passion, invited her to sit for her portrait! This produced a climax; she seized the broom by the brush; I saved my head by closing the door between us. I walked off unscathed and much amused, in the midst of a perfect
Sites of Forts Clinton and Montgomery.—Lake Sinnipink.—Beverly Garrison.
shower of grape-shot from her tongue-battery, compelled to content myself with a pen and ink sketch of the hornet instead of the one I had asked for.