"It certainly is, captain," Evelyn said with a smile. Then turning to
Sydney, "Kingston is ninety-three miles north of New York."
"Oh, well then, one will not need to burden one's self with much luggage," laughed Sydney.
"So there will be no time consumed in packing trunks," remarked
Lucilla.
"I never have any trouble about that. Papa always does it for me," said Grace, giving him a loving look and smile.
"Will we go on shore at Kingston, papa?" asked Elsie.
"Probably," he replied.
"And see the tree the silver bullet man was hung on?" asked Neddie.
"I do not know whether it is still standing or not, my son," replied his father; "and, if so, it probably looks much like other apple trees. It was not at Kingston he was hanged, however, but at Hurley—a few miles from there."
"Kingston is a very old place, is it not?" asked Violet.
"Yes," said her mother; "it was settled by the Dutch as early as 1663, Lossing tells us, and at first called Wiltwyck—which means wild witch or Indian Witch—on account of the troubles between the settlers and the Indians. A redoubt was built by the Dutch on the bank of the creek near the old landing place, and they called the creek Redoubt Kill, or Creek. Now it is called Rondout—a corruption of Redoubt. Years later, near the close of the century, the population of the town was increased by a valuable addition from Europe—a colony of French Huguenots, who fled from that dreadful persecution begun in 1685 by Louis XIV.'s revocation of the Edict of Nantes."