It was dinner-time when Captain Raymond and his children reached their
hotel, and at the conclusion of the meal they went immediately to the
station of the Mount McGregor road. There was just time for the buying
of the tickets and seating themselves comfortably in the cars before
the train started.
"Papa, how long will it take us to go there?" asked Lulu.
"Thirty-five minutes," he answered. "It is about ten miles to the
mountain; then we go up about eleven hundred feet above Saratoga
Springs."
"Yes, sir," said Max; "and here on this time-table it says that in some
places the grade is as high as two hundred and forty-six feet to the
mile."
"Set that down in your memory," returned his father, with a smile.
"Now look out of the windows, Max and Lulu; the country is well worth
seeing."
The ride seemed very short,--it was so enjoyable,--and Lulu was quite
surprised when the car stopped and all the passengers hurried out.
Every one went into the Drexel Cottage, which was close at hand. A man
showed them about, pointing out the objects of special interest,--the
bed where General Grant died, the candle he had extinguished but a few
minutes before breathing his last, and so on.
They spent some time in the cottage, going quietly about, looking with
a sad interest at everything which had any connection with the dear
departed great man, then went on up to the mountain top, where stood a
large hotel. They passed it, and went on to the edge of the mountain,
which overlooks the Hudson River valley.
"Oh, what a lovely view!" cried Lulu, in delight. "What mountains are
those, Papa?"
"Those to the east," he replied, pointing in that direction as
he spoke, "are the Green Mountains, those to the north are the
Adirondacks, and those to the south the Catskills."
"Oh, Lu, look yonder!" cried Max. "There's Schuylerville with its
monument, I do believe,--isn't it, Papa?"
"Yes, you are right,--the place of Burgoyne's surrender, which we
visited this morning," the Captain answered. "Now suppose we go to the
observatory at the top of the hotel, and take the view from there."
Max and Lulu gave an eager assent to the proposal. There were a good
many stairs to climb, but the view fully repaid them for the exertion.
They spent some minutes in gazing upon it, then descended and wandered
through the woods till the train was ready to start down the mountain.
Max and Lulu were tired enough to go to bed at dark; and the next
morning they took an early train to Albany, where they boarded a fine
steamer, which would carry them down the Hudson River to West Point,
where, to the children's great delight, their father had promised to
stay a day or two, and show them all of historical interest connected
with the spot.
It was the first trip on the Hudson that Max or his sister had ever
taken, and they enjoyed it greatly,--all the more because their father
was sufficiently familiar with the scenes through which they were
passing to call their attention to whatever was best worth noticing,
and give all desired information in regard to it, doing so in the
kindest and pleasantest manner possible. The weather was all that could
be desired,--cloudy, with an occasional shower, seldom heavy enough
to obscure the view to any great extent, and just cooling the air
pleasantly, as Lulu remarked with much satisfaction.
It was not raining when they landed at West Point, though clouds still
veiled the sun. They took a carriage near the wharf, and drove to the
hotel. As they alighted, some gentlemen were talking upon its porch,
one of whom was in military uniform.
"Raymond, this is a meeting as delightful as unexpected,--to me at
least!" he exclaimed, coming hastily forward with out-stretched hand.
"Keith, I don't know when I have had a pleasanter surprise!" returned
Captain Raymond, taking the offered hand and shaking it heartily, while
his eyes shone with pleasure. "You are not here permanently?"
"No; only on a furlough. And you?"
"Just for a day or two, to show my children our military academy and
the points of historical interest in its vicinity," replied Captain
Raymond, glancing down upon them with a smile of fatherly pride and
affection. "Max and Lulu, this gentleman is Lieutenant Keith, of whom
you have sometimes heard me speak, and whom your mamma calls Cousin
Donald."
"Your children, are they? Ah, I think I might have known them anywhere
from their remarkable resemblance to you, Raymond!" Mr. Keith said,
shaking hands first with Lulu, then with Max.
He chatted pleasantly with them for a few minutes, while their father
attended to engaging rooms and having the baggage taken up to them.
When he rejoined them Keith asked, "May I have the pleasure of showing
you about, Raymond?"
"Thank you; no better escort could be desired," replied the Captain,
heartily, "you being a valued friend just met after a long separation,
and also an old resident here, thoroughly competent for the task, and
thoroughly acquainted with all the points of interest."
"I think I may say I am that," returned Keith, with a smile; "and it
will give me the greatest pleasure to show them to you,--as great,
doubtless, as you seemed to find some years ago in showing me over your
man-of-war. But first, let us take a view from the porch here. Yonder,"
pointing in a westerly direction, "at the foot of the hills, are the
dwellings of the officers and professors. In front of them you see the
parade-ground: there, on the south side, are the barracks. There is the
Grecian chapel, yonder the library building, with its domed turrets,
and there are the mess hall and hospital." Then turning toward the west
again, "That lofty summit," he said, "is Mount Independence, and the
ruins that crown it are those of 'Old Fort Put.' That still loftier
peak is Redoubt Hill. There, a little to the north, you see Old Cro'
Nest and Butter Hill. Now, directly north, through that magnificent
cleft in the hills, you can see Newburgh and its bay. Of the scenery in
the east we will have a better view from the ruins of 'Old Put.'"
"No doubt," said the Captain. "Shall we go up there at once?"
"If you like, Raymond. I always enjoy the view; it more than pays for
the climb. But," and Mr. Keith glanced somewhat doubtfully at Lulu,
"shall we not take a carriage? I fear the walk may be too much for your
little girl."
"What do you say, Lulu?" her father asked with a smiling glance at her.
"Oh, I'd rather walk, Papa!" she exclaimed. "We have been riding so
much for the last week and more; and you know I'm strong and well, and
dearly love to climb rocks and hills."
"Very well, you shall do as you like, and have the help of Papa's hand
over the hard places," he said, offering it as he spoke.
She put hers into it with a glad look and smile up into his face that
almost made Donald Keith envy the Captain the joys of fatherhood.
They set off at once. Lulu found it a rather hard climb, or that it
would have been without her father's helping hand; but the top of Mount
Independence was at length reached, and the little party stood among
the ruins of Fort Putnam. They stood on its ramparts recovering breath
after the ascent, their faces turned toward the east, silently gazing
upon the beautiful panorama spread out at their feet.
It was the Captain who broke the silence. "You see that range of hills
on the farther side of the river, children?"
"Yes, sir," both replied with an inquiring look up into his face.
"In the time of the Revolution every pinnacle was fortified, and on
each a watch-fire burned," he said.
"They had a battery on each, Papa?" queried Max.
"Yes; but yonder, at their foot, stands something that will interest
you still more,--the Beverly House, from which Arnold the traitor fled
to the British ship 'Vulture,' on learning that André had been taken."
"Oh, is it, sir?" exclaimed Max, in a tone of intense interest. "How I
would like to visit it,--can we, Papa?"
"I too; oh, very much!" said Lulu. "Please take us there,--won't you,
Papa?"
"I fear there will be hardly time, my dears; but I will see about it,"
was the indulgent reply.
"You have been here before, Raymond?" Mr. Keith said inquiringly.
"Yes; on my first bridal trip," the Captain answered in a low, moved
tone, and sighing slightly as the words left his lips.
"With our own mother, Papa?" asked Lulu, softly, looking up into his
face with eyes full of love and sympathy.
"Yes, daughter; and she enjoyed the view very much as you are doing
now."
"I'm glad; I like to think she saw it once."
An affectionate pressure of the hand he held was his only reply. Then
turning to his friend, "It is a grand view, Keith," he said; "and one
that always stirs the patriotism in my blood, inherited from ancestors
who battled for freedom in those Revolutionary days."
"It is just so with myself," replied Keith; "and the view is a grand
one in itself, though there were no such association,--a superb
panorama! The beautiful, majestic river sweeping about the rock-bound
promontory below us there, with its tented field; yonder the distant
spires of Newburgh, and the bright waters of its bay, seen through
that magnificent cleft in the hills," pointing with his finger as he
spoke,--"ah, how often I have seen it all in imagination when out in
the far West scouting over arid plains, and among desolate barren
hills and mountains, where savages and wild beasts abound! At times an
irrepressible longing for this very view has come over me,--a sort of
homesickness, most difficult to shake off."
"Such as years in the ports of foreign lands have sometimes brought
upon me," observed the Captain, giving his friend a look of heartfelt
sympathy.
"Dear Papa, I'm so glad that is all over," Lulu said softly, leaning
lovingly up against him as she spoke, and again lifting to his eyes her
own so full of sympathy and affection. "Oh, it is so pleasant to have
you always at home with us!"
A smile and an affectionate pressure of the little soft white hand he
held were his only reply.
"Ah, my little girl, when Papa sees a man-of-war again, he will be
likely to wish himself back in the service once more!" remarked Keith,
in a sportive tone, regarding her with laughing eyes.
"No, sir, I don't believe it," she returned stoutly. "Papa loves his
home and wife and children too well for that; besides, he has resigned
from the navy, and I don't believe they'd take him back again."
"Well, Lu," said Max, "that's a pretty way to talk about Papa! Now,
it's my firm conviction that they'd be only too glad to get him back."
"That's right, Max; stand up for your father always," laughed Keith.
"He is worthy of it; and I don't doubt the government would be ready to
accept his services should he offer them."
"Of course," laughed the Captain; "but I intend to give them those
of my son instead," turning a look upon Max so proudly tender and
appreciative that the lad's young heart bounded with joy.
"Ah, is that so?" said Keith, gazing appreciatively into the lad's
bright young face. "Well, I have no doubt he will do you credit. Max,
my boy, never forget that you have the credit of an honourable name to
sustain, and that in so doing you will make your father a proud and
happy man."
"That is what I want to do, sir," replied Max, modestly. Then hastily
changing the subject, "Papa, is that town over there Phillipstown?"
"Yes; what do you remember about it?"
"That a part of our Revolutionary army was camped there in 1781. And
there, over to the left, is Constitution Island,--isn't it, sir?"
"Yes," answered his father; then went on to tell of the building of the
fort from which the island takes its name, and its abandonment a few
days after the capture by the British of Forts Clinton and Montgomery,
near the lower entrance to the Highlands, in 1777.
"Such a pity, after they had been to all the expense and trouble of
building it!" remarked Lulu.
"Yes, quite a waste," said Max; "but war's a wasteful business anyway
it can be managed."
"Quite true, Max," said, Mr. Keith; "and soldier though I am, I
sincerely hope we may have no more of it in this land."
"No, sir; but the best way to keep out of it is to show ourselves
ready for self-defence. That is what Papa says."
"And I entirely agree with him. Shall we go now, Raymond, and see what
of interest is to be found in the buildings and about the grounds of
the academy?"
The Captain gave a ready assent, and they retraced their steps, he
helping Lulu down the mountain as he had helped her up.
Keith took them, first, to the artillery laboratory to see, as he said,
some trophies and relics of the Revolution. Conducting them to the
centre of the court, "Here," he remarked, "are some interesting ones,"
pointing, as he spoke, to several cannon lying in a heap, and encircled
by some links of an enormous chain.
"Oh," exclaimed Max, "is that part of the great chain that was
stretched across the Hudson, down there by Constitution Island, in the
time of the Revolution?"
"Yes," replied Keith. "And these two brass mortars were taken from
Burgoyne at Saratoga; this larger one, Wayne took from the British at
Stony Point. I dare say you and your sister are acquainted with the
story of that famous exploit."
"Oh, yes, sir!" they both replied; and Lulu asked, "Is that the English
coat-of-arms on the big cannon?"
Her look directed the query to her father, and he answered, "Yes."
"And what do these words below it mean, Papa,--'Aschaleh fecit, 1741'?"
"Aschaleh is doubtless the name of the maker; '_fecit_' means he
executed it, and 1741 gives the time when it was done."
"Thank you, sir," she said. "Is there any story about that one?"
pointing to another cannon quite near at hand.
"Yes," he said; "by its premature discharge, in 1817, a cadet named
Lowe was killed. In the cemetery is a beautiful monument to his memory."
"Here are two brass field-pieces, each marked 'G. R.,'" said Max. "Do
those letters stand for George Rex,--King George,--Papa?"
"Yes; that was the monogram of the king."
"And the cannon is fourteen years younger than those others," remarked
Lulu; "for, see there, it says, 'W. Bowen fecit, 1755.'"
"Oh, here's an inscription!" exclaimed Max, and read aloud, "'Taken
from the British army, and presented, by order of the United States,
in Congress assembled, to Major-General Green, as a monument of their
high sense of the wisdom, fortitude, and military talents which
distinguished his command in the Southern department, and of the
eminent services which, amid complicated dangers and difficulties, he
performed for his country. October 18th, 1783.' Oh, that was right!"
supplemented the lad, "for I do think Green was a splendid fellow."
"He was, indeed!" said the Captain; "and he has at last been given such
a monument as he should have had very many years sooner."
"Where is it, Papa?" asked Lulu.
"In Washington. It is an equestrian statue, by Henry Kirke Brown."
"Yes; and very glad I am that even that tardy act of justice has been
done him,--one of the bravest and most skilful commanders of our
Revolutionary War," remarked Mr. Keith. Then he added, "I think we have
seen about all you will care for here, Raymond, and that you might
enjoy going out upon the parade-ground now. The sun is near setting,
and the battalion will form presently, and go through some interesting
exercises."
"Thank you!" the Captain said. "Let us, then, go at once, for I see
Max and his sister are eager for the treat," he added, with a smiling
glance from one brightly expectant young face to the other.