It was Monday morning, the sun not an hour high, when Captain Raymond,
sitting on the _Dolphin's_ deck, reading, heard a light footstep
approaching, then a sweet-toned voice saying, "Good-morning, my dear
father," and, looking up, found Lucilla standing at his knee, her
bright eyes gazing lovingly down into his.
"Good-morning, daughter," he returned, taking her hand and drawing her
down to a seat by his side, then passing an arm about her waist and
giving her the accustomed morning caress. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, indeed, papa; from the minute I laid my head upon the pillow
till I woke to find it broad daylight."
"I am glad to hear it. It is something that both you and I should be
very thankful for."
"And you, papa? did you sleep well?"
"Very; as I hope and believe all on board did. I suppose you left
Grace still asleep?"
"Yes, sir; sleeping so sweetly that I took particular pains to move
quietly and not wake her."
"That was right," he said. "I want her--my feeble little girl--to take
all the sleep she can."
"So do I, father; and I think she has gained a good deal in health and
strength since she has had you at home almost all the time to take
care of her."
"That's what fathers are for--to take care of the children," he
returned with a smile.
"Well, daughter, what would you like to do to-day?"
"Whatever my father bids me," she said with a happy laugh.
"Ah! isn't that a rash choice?" he asked, passing his hand caressingly
over her hair and smiling down at her as he spoke.
"No, sir; I think not--considering how wise, kind, and loving my
father is."
"What would you think of a trip up to Kingston--to view it as one of
the scenes of Revolutionary occurrences?"
"Oh, I should like it very much!" she exclaimed with eager delight.
"Do you think of going there to-day, papa?"
"I have been thinking it would answer very well as a sequel to our
Saturday's visit to Washington's old quarters at Newburgh. We will
make the suggestion at the breakfast table, and see what the rest of
our company think of it."
"Oh, I don't believe anyone will think of objecting. I shall be
astonished if they do."
"But there are other places some may prefer visiting first, and it
will be only polite and kind to let each one express his or her
preference."
"And the majority decide, I suppose?"
"That is my idea," he said pleasantly.
"Your ideas are always kind ones, father dear," she responded with a
loving look up into his eyes.
"Though occasionally not altogether agreeable to my eldest daughter,
eh?" he returned with a smile, and playfully patting the hand which he
held.
"Ah, papa, I do not often object by word or look to your decisions
nowadays, do I?" she said half-imploringly.
"No, it has been a very rare thing for a very long while now," he
said with a tenderly affectionate look--"so rare that I really believe
my dear eldest daughter has come to have full faith in her father's
wisdom and love for her."
"Indeed, papa, I don't doubt either in the very least," she exclaimed
with an energy that brought an amused smile to her father's lips and
eyes.
"Good-morning, papa!" cried a sweet child voice at that moment; "here
we come, and mamma will follow in a very few minutes." And with that
Elsie and Ned came bounding across the deck to their father's side. He
welcomed both with kind greetings and fatherly caresses.
"Is your sister Grace up yet?" he asked, and Elsie answered: "Yes,
sir; and almost dressed. She opened her door as I was going by, and
gave me a kiss, and told me to tell papa she would be ready to go up
to breakfast in a very few minutes!"
"Ah," he said; "I fear she may hurry too much for her feeble strength.
Neddie, boy, go down to the cabin, knock at your sister's door, and
tell her papa says it is so early yet that she need not hurry with
her dressing. We will wait till she and mamma are quite ready to go up
to the house."
"I will, papa," was the ready and cheerful response, as the little
fellow turned to obey, but then he paused with the exclamation, "Oh,
here they come--both of them!"
The captain rose to exchange morning greetings with his wife and
daughter, then all set out for the cottage on the hill.
They found the other guests gathered on the front porch, and when
morning salutations had been exchanged they fell into conversation,
breakfast being not quite ready. The question was at once proposed how
and where they should spend the day, and when the captain told of his
plan in regard to that, it was hailed with delight. No one could think
of anything better, and it was decided that they would start very
shortly after finishing their morning meal.
"Will it be a long voyage, captain?" asked Sydney in a jesting tone.
"Something less than crossing the Atlantic," he returned with becoming
gravity.
"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."
"What does that mean, grandma?" asked Neddie.
"I will tell you sometime; perhaps while we are going up the river
to-day," she answered in kindly tones. "I cannot do it now, for there
is the breakfast bell."
They were all seated upon the _Dolphin's_ deck very shortly after
leaving the table, and in a few moments the yacht was steaming rapidly
up the river. Then Neddie, going to his grandmother's side, claimed
her promise to explain to him what was meant by an edict--particularly
the one of which she had spoken.
"An edict," she said, "is a public decree that things shall be so and
so. The Edict of Nantes said that the persecution of the Protestants
must stop and they be allowed to worship God as they deemed right; the
revocation of that edict gave permission to the Romanists to begin
persecution again. Therefore, to save their lives, the Protestants had
to flee to other lands."
"Where did they go, grandma?" asked Eric, who was listening with as
keen an interest as Neddie himself.
"A great many to England and Germany and some to this country. It was
really a great loss to France, for they were industrious and skilful
artisans--manufacturers of silk, jewelry, and glass."
"I'm glad some of them did come here," said Eric. "The massacre of St.
Bartholomew was before that, wasn't it, grandma?"
"Yes; on the 26th of August, 1572; in that seventy thousand
Protestants were butchered by the Papists in France, by the authority
of the Pope and the king. From that time on, until 1598, there were
terrible persecutions, stopped in that year by Henry IV.'s issue of
the Edict of Nantes, allowing, as I have told you, Protestants to
worship God according to the dictates of their consciences. That edict
remained in force for nearly a century, but was revoked in 1685 by
Louis XIV."
"Then the Protestants moved away to escape being killed?" asked Eric.
"Yes," replied Grandma Elsie, "and some of them came up this river and
settled on its shores. They found it less hazardous to dwell beside
the savage Indians than among the persecuting Papists."
"So they came across the ocean and up this river and settled near
Kingston, did they, grandma?" queried Eric.
"They settled in the valley of Ulster and Orange counties," she
answered.
"And then they had good times, I hope," said Neddie.
"Not for some time," she answered, "because the Indians were fierce
and jealous of the palefaces, as they called the whites. It was not
until after the Revolution that they ceased to give trouble to the
white settlers, both Huguenots and others. But it was borne with
patience and perseverance; and many of their descendants helped in
the hard struggle for our independence."
"Fighting the British in the Revolutionary War, do you mean, grandma?"
asked Neddie.
"Yes; fighting for freedom. That was the war that made us the great
and growing nation that we are to-day. It was a fearful struggle, but
God helped us, and we should never forget to give him thanks for our
liberties."
"I hope we won't," said Eric. "Papa says we have more to be thankful
for than any other people; and I think so myself."
"As I do," said his grandma; "and my little grandsons are much better
off than very many other children, even in this good land."
"Yes, grandma, I know that; papa and mamma often remind me of it; and
I do feel thankful for my many blessings; for none of them more than
for my dear, sweet grandma," he added with a loving look into her
eyes.
"As I do for my dear grandchildren," she returned, giving him a loving
smile and softly patting the hand he had laid on her knee.
"Indeed, we all love you dearly, grandma," exclaimed Ned. "But, now,
please won't you go on and tell us some more? Tell about the Indians,
and what they and the white folks did to each other."
"I could not tell all that was done, nor would it be a pleasant story
if I could," replied Grandma Elsie. "The Esopus Indians lived on the
flats extending northward from the creek for some distance. They did
not fancy their white neighbors, and determined to kill them. They
fell upon the settlement one day while the able-bodied men were in the
field and slew sixty-five persons. The others fled to the redoubt, and
the Indians began to build a stockade near it. But a call for help was
sent to New York, and the Governor sent troops, who drove the Indians
back to the mountains. Not long afterward the Dutch followed the
Indians into their fastnesses, destroyed their forts and villages,
laid waste their fields, burned their stores of maize, killed many of
their warriors, captured eleven of them, and released twenty-two of
the Dutch whom they were holding captives. All that led to a truce the
next December and a treaty of peace the following May."
"Were the Huguenots there when all that happened, grandma?" asked
Eric.
"No; as I have told you, it was the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
which drove them from their native land to this foreign shore, and
that did not take place until 1685--more than twenty years later."
"Were the Indians all gone from about Kingston by that time, grandma?"
asked Eric.
"Oh, no!" she said. "They as well as the Tories gave a great deal of
trouble to the Patriots during the Revolutionary War--that hard
struggle for freedom. At the time of the Revolution the New York
Legislature, then called 'Convention of the Representatives of the
State of New York,' migrated from place to place, being compelled to
do so by the movements of the enemy, and finally, in February, 1777,
took up their quarters in Kingston until May of that year. They were
making a Constitution for the State. It proved a very excellent one,
and was adopted. And the first session of the legislature of the State
was appointed to meet at Kingston in July. So Kingston was the capital
of the State when Sir Henry Clinton took the forts in the Hudson
Highlands; and because it was the capital he marked it out for special
vengeance.
"The British fleet, under Sir James Wallace, came up the river with
3600 men under the command of General Vaughan. The order given them
was to scatter desolation in their track; and they obeyed--destroying
all vessels on the river and firing from the ships upon the houses of
known Patriots. Also small parties landed and desolated whole
neighborhoods with fire and sword. They landed near Kingston on the
13th of October in two divisions, each taking a different road to the
town, and burning and destroying as they went. They joined upon a
gentle eminence and marched into the town,--then but a small
village,--began setting the houses on fire, and soon had almost every
one laid in ashes."
"Was Kingston only a very little place then, grandma?" asked Eric.
"A town of only three or four thousand inhabitants," she replied.
"Some of the people--warned of the approach of the British--had
succeeded in hiding their most valuable effects, but others lost all
they had. A large quantity of provisions and stores was destroyed.
After doing all that mischief, the British--fearing the American
people would gather together and come upon and punish them for all
this wanton cruelty--hastily retreated."
"Did it do them any good to burn down the town, grandma?" asked Eric
hotly.
"No; there was nothing gained by it."
"And as they burned the town, there are no Revolutionary houses to be
seen there now, I suppose?"
"A few houses escaped the fire," she said. "One is the 'Constitution
House'--called so because it was there the Convention met which framed
the Constitution for the government of the State. I think we will
visit it to-day. Perhaps, too, the old graveyard where many of the
Huguenots lie buried. Will we not, captain?" addressing him as he drew
near their little group, as if interested to learn what was the topic
of her discourse.
"We will visit any spot that you wish us to, mother," he answered in
his pleasant tones.
"Were you giving the boys a history of Kingston?"
"A slight sketch," she said; "and they want to see the Constitution
House; perhaps the old graveyard too."
"Ah! I think we will visit both; certainly, if all our party wish it."
At that, several of the others gathered about them, asking of what
places they were speaking; and, on being told, they one and all
expressed themselves as desirous to see everything connected with the
history of the town to which they were going. So that was what they
did on their arrival at Kingston. They remained there for some hours;
then returned to their yacht, and greatly enjoyed the trip back to
Evelyn's pretty cottage, which they reached in time for tea.