There were still many hundred acres and those were divided into large farms where cattle, horses and small stock were raised in great quantities. Orange County milk and butter had become famous and Cornwall contributed her full share. Not only the products of our own neighborhood but those of the other counties reached New York by the way of Cornwall landing. A friend recently gone from us, Miss Maria Conser, who was a child at that time, gives the following graphic description: "How we children liked to stop on our way to the old schoolhouse to watch the loaded wagons drawn by three mules abreast lumbering over the rough roads. We were frightened when we met the droves of cattle. The tossing of their wild horns sent us scrambling upon the stone wall until they had passed. Hours would elapse while tubs of butter, forests of hoop-poles, cows, calves, sheep and lambs were placed on board of the night boat. The passengers went to their berths but alas, for their hope of rest; the lowing of cattle, the bleating of lambs and the noise of the crew forbade sleep. About midnight a lull would come; the boat gliding through the softly murmuring water made sleep possible."
In 1805 Isaac Tobias constructed a dock at New Windsor where he built the sloop Hector and sailed it from the landing. A few years later Captain Nathaniel Ketchum ran the Revenge between here and the city. In 1828 the Experiment, the first steamboat that sailed from the landing, was built by Silas Corwin of New Windsor and commanded by Captain Isaac Vanduzer. She had four smokestacks and was but little more speedy than the sloops. After a few years she was sold to Weeks & Griffin who in turn disposed of her to Bertholf & Co. She was finally converted into a barge. Two others, the Wave and General Jackson, were put on, and in 1855 Captain Joseph Ketchum and Henry M. Clark purchased the Orange County and ran her between here and New York. The building of the Erie Railroad to Piermont sent a large part of the freight by that route and we have never recovered our lost prestige. But just about this time a new industry sprang up which partially made up for the freight that had been carried elsewhere. The land was found to be especially adapted to the raising of small fruits—the Hudson River Antwerp raspberries and strawberries being the most successful, and thousands were shipped every night during the fruit season. This too fell off when it was discovered that we had a home market for all we could raise. This was due to the personality of one man, N. P. Willis.
IDLEWILD.
Those who visit Idlewild today and note the miles of gravel walk sweeping where the vista that opens is most beautiful: the rare trees brought from many lands—the acres of lawn, smooth as velvet—the profusion of flowers that meets one at every turn—the luxurious mansion crowned to its eaves with blossoms and vines, can hardly realize the wild grandeur of the scene that appealed to the poet soul of N. P. Willis, and drew from the owner, Mr. Daniel Ward, the question, "What do you want with such an idle wild?"
An unbroken woodland lying about the bank of the river, whose romantic beauty was as yet unappreciated; bisected by a dark ravine at the bottom of which ran a brook only revealed by the music of its waters and thrown into spray by huge boulders obstructing its course. Pines, hemlocks and forest trees centuries old sprang towards the sunlight but at their base grew impenetrable underbrush.
The name has become a household word not only among our own people, but in the lands beyond the sea, and thousands of readers followed with delight every step that was taken to change the scene from barbarism to civilization. "A letter from Idlewild" was published every week in the Home Journal of which Willis and George P. Morris were editors.
While still a boy in college the publication of his Scriptural poems attracted much attention. These were followed by "Pencilings by the Way," a brilliant record of a trip through Europe.
In 1851 he was sent to Cornwall by his physician in hopes of prolonging his life. He was threatened with consumption and had already been warned by the danger signal of several hemorrhages. The medicine prescribed was rest, nourishment and every hour possible spent out of doors. He boarded with a gentle Quaker lady, Mrs. Southerland, over whose home the dove of Peace was brooding. Slowly but sometimes almost imperceptibly came returning strength, but to make it permanent he must remain here and so came the purchase of a home. The Civil War brought financial reverses, for a majority of his subscribers were in The South, but he turned again to work in order to recoup some of his losses, but his health again broke down and he died on his 60th birthday, 1867, in the home he loved so well.
Mr. Willis was twice married—first to a sweet-faced English girl, who only lived for a few years. His second wife was Miss Cornelia Grinnell, daughter of one of our merchant princes. She sold the estate, which passed into the hands of Judge George, a gentleman of culture and refined taste, who carried out many of the improvements planned by his predecessor. He sold it to the late Mr. Courtney, who was then President of the West Shore Railroad. After Mr. Courtney's death it passed into the hands of Mr. Charles Curie, the present owner.