“Well, this is where he had his headquarters,” said Grant, “when his army was in this part of the country. This is a beautiful spot, isn’t it?”
“It’s wonderful!” said Fred in a low voice. The impulsive lad was deeply impressed by the associations connected with the place where they then were standing as well as by the marvelous scene of the Hudson winding its way in and out through the midst of the towering hills.
“Over yonder,” said Grant, pointing across the river as he spoke, “is Beacon and right across the river is Fishkill.”
“Good name,” said John in a low voice.
“Of course it is,” said Grant. “We’re in the Empire State. That’s the State I live in and there isn’t another one like it in the Union.”
“That’s right,” said George, who felt that he was now called upon to defend his own State. “New York has a choice collection. I don’t say that there aren’t some good people here, but you don’t have to go very far to come to Ossining. Do you know who lives there?”
“Yes, some undesirable citizens,” said Grant.
“Yes, and you go on a little farther up the river and you come to Albany. If you want to know what New York State is like you want to find out how much the capitol building there cost.”
“Never mind about those things,” broke in John. “What I want to know is about this part of the country where we are now. I have read a good many stories about the American army when it was in camp at Peekskill.”
“Of course you have,” said Grant; “there were a lot of things doing there. I have a book at home that my great-grandfather used to read when he was a boy. It tells about a young fellow only seventeen years of age who was one of Washington’s couriers. He used to ride between Morristown and Lake Champlain. At least he did in the year when Burgoyne was trying to bring his Hessians and redcoats from Montreal to New York.”