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OLD NINETY-NINE'S CAVE
BY ELIZABETH H. GRAY
THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 1909
All Rights Reserved
PRESS OF MURRAY AND EMERY COMPANY BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Margaret 61
Into this den of venomous serpents, only the hardy dared penetrate 149
Tim Watson 170
Jack De Vere 194
Beyond the hills melting into a pinkish haze 206
Canal boats still crept sleepily on 248
Sam's Point 255
The Rondout Creek tumbled musically over the rocks below forming many beautiful cascades 292
The laurels take on a rosier hue in the warm afterglow 308
INTRODUCTION
Tourists in the Shawangunk region are unanimous in pronouncing it one of the most beautiful spots east of the Mississippi, and in some respects unique on this continent. Mokonk and Minnewaska need no eulogy from any pen, Sam's Point tells its own story, while the entire Rondout Valley has a charm of its own.
It has been the author's good fortune to have access to old books and papers relating to the local tradition of "Old Ninety-Nine." He is said to have been the last of the Delawares in the Rondout Valley, and, excepting his death, on which tradition is silent, the account given is the one generally told.
The house of Benny De Puy is still standing and the "very spring from which old Ninety-Nine drank on his way to and from his cave" yet gushes out not far from the door.
The author feels indebted to "The Four Track News and Travel Magazine" for courteous permission to reprint parts of two articles by herself that were published by them.
Old Ninety-Nine's Cave
The Shawangunk Mountains extend from near the center of Ulster County to the southwestern corner in an almost unbroken chain. The Catskills are in the northeastern part and between these two ranges is the Rondout Valley, which extends from the Delaware to the Hudson River, averaging in width about three miles.
Shawangunk is an Indian word meaning "Great Wall," and the range separates the Wallkill from this beautiful valley. Here flourish the trailing arbutus, azalea and laurel, and in July that glory of our continent--the American rhododendron--is found in perfection.
History and tradition have added charm to the natural beauty of this region, and every lake and mountain-pass has its legends.
Early settlers were Dutch, and French Huguenots who found the country disputed by different tribes of the Delawares. Those living in Ulster County were called the Esopus Indians, and their hunting-grounds embraced the territory between the Highlands on the south, Tendeyackemick on the north, the Hudson on the east, and the head waters of the Delaware on the west. They were, however, divided into clans which generally took the name of the place where they lived: thus those on the east side of the Shawangunk Mountains were called "Waconawankongs" and those on the west were called "Wawarsings," "Minisinks" and "Mamakatings." Originally they were a portion of the Minqua or Delawares, who always claimed a protectorate over them and with whom they merged when driven westward by the settlements of the whites.
In the heart of this valley and nestling close to the base of Point Wawanda lay Nootwyck, a quaint little village and seemingly part of its surroundings. Huguenot Street intersected the village, running from east to west towards the mountain, and extended part way up its side.
It was in December, 1878, that John De Vere hurried up this street towards the home whose welcome lights glimmered through the falling snow; even the gaunt Lombardy poplars which lined the street were attractive in their soft mantle of white. At the extreme end of the street he turned into his grounds and ascended to the house by the winding road which led up to it. Being a scholarly man and an admirer of the Greek style of architecture, his house had been made to conform as nearly as possible to it. The broad piazza which extended around three sides commanded a fine view of the valley.
Springing up the broad steps, Mr. De Vere was soon in the midst of his family, who were seated at the supper-table. The family consisted of his mother, wife, and four children: Jack, a handsome young fellow of twenty-two; Celeste, a girl of twenty; Eletheer, sixteen; and Cornelia, six. Reuben and Margaret, the two blacks who served them, were husband and wife.
"Ugh!" said Mr. De Vere, "a bitter night and this snow added to what is already on the ground will make a heavy body of it."
"I think the temperature is moderating," said his mother, "and the snow will probably turn to rain."
"Father," said Jack, "Mr. Valentine Mills called at the office to-day. He seemed anxious to see you."
"What can he want in the country at this season of the year?" returned his father.
"He said something about wishing to purchase your mining claim and erecting a sanitarium on Point Wawanda; he showed me his plans and I tell you the structure would be an ornament."
"O, don't sell it!" protested Eletheer, "you know that is to be the site of my hospital."
"John, I don't like that man's looks and would have as little dealing as possible with him."
"Why, mother, he seems very much of a gentleman."
"Nevertheless, I mistrust him."
Mrs. De Vere, or "Granny," was a woman of positive ideas and, in her younger days, of great executive ability. A strict Calvinist, she had accepted the doctrines of her church as ultimate truth beyond which there was no cause for investigation; these questions had been settled for all time and those who differed from her were either deluded or wilfully in error. She never obtruded her religious beliefs on others, but, when asked, always gave them in a remarkably direct manner, which precluded all argument.
After supper she retired early, accompanied by Eletheer whose self-imposed duty it was to see her comfortably tucked in bed and then read her to sleep from her beloved Bible. Mr. and Mrs. De Vere went to the library where a bright fire crackled on the hearth, scenting the room with birch. Throwing himself on a couch, Mr. De Vere with a deep sigh said: "You know the mortgage on this place comes due January first, and probably Mills wants his money. I can't blame him either for Nootwyck is dead. One enterprise after another falls through for want of railway communication. Look at the iron mine, the blast-furnace and the rolling-mill. They cannot compete with like industries elsewhere and consequently fail."
"This town is bonded for the railroad and we are entitled to have it extended through to Kingston," his wife said.
"The business men of Elmdale do not want this extension, and I fear they have played a winning game."
A loud ring at the door announced the arrival of some one, and who should Reuben usher in but Mr. Mills himself.
"Good evening, Mr. Mills," said Mr. De Vere cordially. "Stormy night."
Divesting himself of overcoat and rubbers, Mr. Mills entered the library and shook hands graciously with both.
He was tall and spare, of about fifty-five, and his manner was that of a man of the world; but his unsteady glance never met one's frankly and his movements were restless.
Reuben brought in a tray on which were a plate of crullers and some cider and while they were sipping it, he replenished the fire.
"Where did you get that treasure?" inquired Mills after Reuben left the room.
"He was a porter in the college at Vicksburg, Mississippi, when I occupied the Chair of Ancient Languages there. He became enamored of Mrs. De Vere's maid, Margaret, and begged me to buy him, which I did."
"If not an impertinent question, may I ask what you paid for him?"
"Certainly. I gave one thousand dollars for him. He is not an ignorant man, as you can see."
"How did he get his education?"
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