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ADDRESS OF
The Rev. John Bodine Thompson, D. D.
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The following is taken from "Two Hundredth Anniversary of the Old Dutch Church at Sleepy Hollow, 1697-1897," printed by The De Vinne Press for the Consistory of the First Reformed Church of Tarrytown, A. D., 1898.
It must have been in the mellow haze of an Indian summer afternoon that our Dutch forefathers cast anchor in the quiet harbor, now mostly meadow, at the mouth of the Pocantico, and named it Die Saaperig Hafen (the sleepy haven).
In the afternoon they came into a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
Weary with the long endeavor to urge their little craft past Verdrietige Hook, the Tedious Corner mountain so long in sight, they were glad to rest in this land-locked harbor, at that time large enough to protect the fly-boat from the Texel, the Tessel, the Tassel, as they variously called the river of the Netherlands from which so many of their descendants here derive the family name. This was a hundred years before the discovery of the happy valley of Rasselas in Africa and of the El Dorado of Candide in South America; but already Lord Plowden had "marched, lodged and camped full seven years" among the Indians of New Albion, between the North River and the South River, as the Dutch named the streams bounding the present State of New Jersey on the east and the west respectively. The description of that "land of Eden," by his faithful esquire Beauchamp Plantagenet, had been printed at Middelburg, whence the Mildeberger family doubtless came. Of the region so glowingly described in that publication, a recent writer, not given to exaggeration, says, "Live six months on the Delaware meadows, and the recollection of that experience will not fade away, though you mount the shoulders of a saint, and peep into paradise."1
And now the Dutch had found its counterpart on the North River. It was Luy-Lekkerland (an earthly paradise).
No more, no more,
The worldly shore
Upbraids them with its loud uproar;
With dreamful eyes
The spirit lies
Under the walls of paradise.
The gently rippling waters of the Sleepy Haven Kill soothed them to slumber with their musical monotony and, when they waked, lured them onward with their beautiful brightness until the whole happy valley became their home. They were a pious people; every wildflower that decked the greensward babbled to them of its Maker.
His fingers pushed it through the sod,
It came up redolent of God;
Garrulous of the eyes of God to all the breezes near it;
Musical of the mouth of God to all had ears to hear it;
Mystical with the mirth of God that glowlike did ensphere it.2
They were not unacquainted with the doleful diatribe of the pessimistic preacher:
He that lifteth stones shall be hurt thereby;
He that splitteth timber shall be endangered thereby.
But they had heard in effect, if not in form, the voice of Jesus say:
Lift the stone, and thou shalt find Me;
Split the timber, and there am I.
And, confident in his ceaselessly present and protecting providence, they raised the stone from the quarry and lifted up axes upon the thick trees, and built them homes; first on the river shore. Alipconck, the Indians called it (place of elms), whose bark, fastened with sinews of the deer that browsed beneath the branches, formed the light canoe which carried them safely over the waters of the Tappan Zee, or the ingenious kettle in which, over the embers of a feeble fire, the red man leisurely cooked his simple meal, as his congeners in Arizona do to-day. Wickquaesquick (the place of the manufacture of the bark kettle) was still thickly peopled by natives when white men had dwelt among them more than a hundred years.
But the Greinberg hills grew grain for the Dutch; and they, being better housed and better fed, spread over the sites of both Alipeconck and Wickquaesquick. Tarwedurp they called their village, (Ryetown); but when the all-conquering Anglo-Saxon came, Tarwedurp became Tarrytown, a name whose composition aptly symbolizes the composite character of its inhabitants sifted from the nations of the earth to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.
Between the Pocantico and the spot on which we stand an Indian castle remained so long as the Dutch dominion here endured. Its defenders smoked with our fathers the pipe of peace; and their sons helped to raise these walls still redolent with praise. Nor did they all meet the fate of Noah's carpenters.
As early as August 11, 1628, the Reverend Jonas Michaelis sent to the mother-country a carefully prepared plan for mission work, in order that "the fulness of the heathen might be gradually accomplished and the salvation of our God be here also seen among these wild and savage men." The records of the early Dutch churches in this country are glorious with the names of those who were the first-fruits unto God a more abundant harvest. By the year 1766, an English historian tells us, at Albany they were "all brought to the profession of Christianity." In 1769 one of the deacons of this church was Thomas Sampewa, whose name indicates an Algonquin lineage. And the records expressly state that they were written to describe "in what manner and good Christian affection these first Christian inhabitants in the midst of this heathenism, and with and among the heathen, did live as true Christians."
Nor was such godly example in vain in the Lord. Attracted and won thereby, more than one Mohegan maiden became the wife of the pale-face, and the mother of his children; and the earliest Dutch historian testifies to the devotion and consecration of these faithful wives and mothers.
Last month the children of the Dutch who, fifty years ago, fled from persecution in their native land to Iowa and Michigan celebrated their jubilee year. Among the speakers at the American Holland in Michigan was the venerable Pocagon, chief of the Pottawattomies, whose ancestors had gone from this Atlantic coast to the shores of the great unsalted sea, where he welcomed those who now have made the wilderness to bud and blossom as the rose. His name, Pocagon, shows that he is of the same language as Pocahontas, who was named after a Pocantico in Virginia, in hope that the magic of the swift running stream between two hills might enable her to escape the wiles of the white man's witchery. Vain hope! the proudest families of Virginia, of New York, and of England, delight to boast descent from her.
And here, also, are those whose bronzed brows and high cheekbones, and erect stature, show whence they derive the independent disposition which, joined to Dutch determination, has brought this church through two hundred years of its eventful history, and which will bring it through two thousand years to come, and make it ever more and more blessed, and a blessing.
Two days ago I held in my hand a manuscript of two folio pages, written by Guiliam Bertholf, the founder of this church. It bears date April 10, 1683, before he became a minister of the gospel. It is an official document written by him in the capacity of what we now call a notary public. In it he describes himself as "schoolmeester en ordinere schryver ten durpe Acquigenonck residerende,"--schoolmaster and authorized scrivener residing at the village of Acquackanonck. With it was a still more interesting document, executed March 23, 1724, an agreement in touchingly tender terms between him and the church of Acquackanonck, which he had served for thirty years, and was no longer able to serve. The church promises to him an annual gift which he accepts in lieu of salary, and leaves them free to call a young pastor from Holland. His signature to this paper shows that it was written with a hand trembling with age and feebleness.3
But others will talk to you of these things. My business is simply to gather up the fragments that nothing be lost. Events of a later date were detailed to me by Mrs. Eliza Ann See, a mother in Israel, whose appearance and character were so like those of my father's mother that, involuntarily, I reverenced her as soon as I knew her, and listened eagerly to the graphic tales she told me of what she had heard and seen.
The story which I wrote down from her lips respecting Jacob Reaumur and Juda Freneau (whose names seem to be French, though they came from one of the German cantons of Switzerland) has been charmingly told by my successor here, and printed by the Historical Society of this place, so that I need only refer to it. This pious couple had five sons and three daughters, some of whom sleep beneath the shadow of these walls.
Their graves are green,
They may be seen.
Of James Romer (for so the name is spelled in this country) I know only his name. John Romer was a well-known captain during the Revolutionary War. Captain William Romer married Leah, daughter of Cornelius Van Tassel and Elizabeth Storms, his wife. Others of the family were dwelling here when the story was told me in 1868; but I neglected to make a memorandum of their names and cannot now recall them.4
After the publication of that clever caricature known as "Knickerbocker's New York" it came to be considered a reproach to be called a denizen of Sleepy Hollow. The name had become restricted to the comparatively small portion of the valley through which the public road then ran. The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery was named by Washington Irving; but I believe I was the first to insist upon using the ancient designation in the broad extent of its original signification and to claim it as a title of honor, by dating all my letters from "The Manse of Sleepy Hollow." A brother minister kindly wrote to warn me of the danger of Presbyterianism lurking in the word "Manse"; but, knowing that the Dutch were more presbyterial than the Presbyterians themselves, I persevered in my perversity, and publicly from the pulpit invited the Presbyterians who had been worshiping with this church all through the war to join themselves to it; and this invitation they accepted. I well knew the groundlessness of the fears, felt by a few, of an attempt at the impossible task of making Presbyterians out of the Dutch of Sleepy Hollow.
It was time for a new departure, not only here, but everywhere in the Reformed Protestant Dutch Church of North America. The once dominant religion in all this region was little more than "a nice little heritage on the Hudson and the Raritan"; and many of its most mighty men loved to have it so!
The esthetic taste of the country had developed. There was an increasing desire for a more liturgical form of worship. The service of the Protestant Episcopal Church was regarded with increasing favor. But the doctrinal tendency in that Church in those days was believed to be toward pre-Reformation views, and it was thought that the time had come for the Dutch Church to emphasize its liturgical features and show a reason for its existence by claiming its appropriate position as holding the mean between the ritualistic observances of the Church of English origin and the extreme baldness of the worship of the Church of Scottish origin. One or two of the more evangelical of the clergymen of the Protestant Episcopal Church accepted charges in the Dutch Reformed Church. But the descendants of the Dutch had become so accustomed to Puritan usages that their native conservatism now asserted itself against any return to the customs of the reformers; and, with the organization of the Reformed Episcopal Church, the opportunity passed away. At a later period endeavor was made to assert a distinct doctrinal status for the Reformed Church in America, having as its key-not "union with Christ," rather than "the divine decrees"; but the system of doctrine taught in the Westminster standards was preferred to that of Heidelberg; and this effort also proved futile.
The Church Manual, however, prepared in the Manse of Sleepy Hollow, was not without effect. Its new formulas were used more and more widely, and the General Synod put their author upon a committee to revise the liturgy of the Church. The present formula "for the reception of communicants baptized in infancy" was modified from that of the manual of the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow. Its formula for the public reception of communicants from other churches also is more widely used than any other.
The edition of the Church Manual for home use contained, besides liturgical formulas, classified lists of the communicants, a brief statement of the organization and government of the Church, and a calendar of meetings, together with historical and explanatory notes. In these it was said:
The manor Church still stands upon its green knoll, its massive walls as firm as when the savages first wondered at the structure erected to the white man's God. Divine service has again been instituted in it; and, please God, the Gospel light which shined so brightly here two centuries ago shall shine henceforth till glory dawn.
It is hoped, moreover, that the time is not far distant when the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow, with its adjacent burial ground, can be put into a condition worthy alike of those who rest from their labors and of those who follow them.
With characteristic steadiness and sturdiness this hope has now been realized. When it was expressed the building had merely been cleansed from the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated while the doors were closed. Elder Powles will remember how he found the ancient tinder-box in the corner where it had lain undisturbed for half a century, and brought it to his pastor, who used it on "Children's Day," (July 19, 1867), to illustrate the difference between the past and the present.
Posters announced the re-opening of the church of the fathers; and their children flocked to it all summer long. The printed report of consistory said:
These meetings are known to have been the means of salvation to precious souls, and have thus set upon them the seal of the divine approbation.
This statement was made because some still did not approve of the opening of the building which had been closed so long. There are those who will remember the eloquent appeals made here by such men as William E. Dodge and George H. Stuart, as well as by ministers whose names I will not stop to recount. Nor can some of us ever forget the celebration of the Lord's Supper in this sacred place when the table was spread from the pulpit to the door and we all sat round it during the whole of the service, like the celebrants in the upper chamber at Jerusalem eighteen hundred years before. It was my custom, as the end of each year approached, to review the past, and to circulate among the families of the congregation a printed statement of what had been accomplished during the year, with plans for the work during the year to come. In that of the year 1867 it is said:
"Since I have been permitted to see your good works you have been giving for religious and benevolent purposes at the rate of one thousand five hundred and ninety-six dollars a year, though the average for each year of the preceding ten had been but four hundred and one dollars and eighty-nine cents. Moreover, you have increased the amount you contribute in the form of pew-rents from a thousand and fifty dollars to twenty-seven hundred dollars, after paying a church debt of twenty-three hundred dollars, and noe of you are the worse for it; but, contrarywise, better."
The issue for 1868 says:
"Hitherto we have been laying foundations. Now, leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection." And plans were presented for completing the study of the Gospels and reading the Bible through during the year to come.
In that for 1869 occur words which I gladly re-echo today:
"The fellowship of the spirit is sweet. Ties of affection have been formed here which will furnish matter for thanksgiving round the throne in glory."
The introduction of a plan for systematic beneficence was followed by a great growth in grace. The attendance upon public worship and the number of the communicants increased. The service of song in the house of the LORD was improved. The children and youth of the church were instructed in sacred music. The "Hymns of the Church" and "Christian Praise" (both afterwards adopted by General Synod) were selected and arranged in the Manse of Sleepy Hollow. A mission Sunday-school was established in the Sleepy Hollow school-house, as well as in this ancient edifice. A pious woman was employed to carry the Gospel from house to house in the upper part of the village, and provision was made for both the spiritual and the material wants of the poor.
It would be more than a suppression of the truth to imply that all this was accomplished without difficulty. Those who are at ease in Zion are rarely pleased to have their slumbers disturbed. The expression of a purpose to "stir up" Christian people to greater diligence in the divine life was interpreted by an influential pew-holder (not too familiar with the language of Scripture) as the expression of an intention to irritate! One name of every six upon the list of communicants was stricken from the roll, they being such as the preceding pastor, in his farewell discourse, had said that he had sought "for good reasons, through many years, to be relieved of."
But the heart of the church was sound. right loyally it responded to the appeal for increase efficiency in the service of the Master. Consistory said: "The pious dead of two centuries call to us from these valleys and hill-sides, where they labored and pray[ed so long, to preserve, transmit, and extend the faith which they planted in weakness and watered with their tears."
In response to this appeal, a complete re-organization was effected, and the church entered upon a course of development which, under the guidance of the Divine Spirit, has been continuous from that day to this. Children also felt the gracious influence. Full six months after the departure of the pastor it was discovered that a little company of them were still continuing to meet every Saturday, at the unoccupied manse, to pray to the Saviour whom they had learned to love.
Toward the end of the third year of my ministry here a committee from a larger and stronger church, under the shadow of the mountain upon which Rip Van Winkle is fabled to have slept so long, came into church and heard a discourse upon the text, "What Doest Thou Here?" Nevertheless, they persevered until they had accomplished their purpose; and I went, bound in the spirit, to undertake in another place a work like that I had endeavored to do here. The servant is not above his master. He goes where he is sent. One goeth and another cometh. And so the work goes on.
Still glides the stream, and shall forever glide.
The form remains; the function never dies.
While we, the brave, the might, and the wise,
We men who in our youth defied
The elements, must vanish. Be it so!
Enough if something from our hands has power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
Only an imperative sense of duty could have constrained me to leave this church and people to whom I was attached with ties of affection strong as bands of steel. But I was convinced that the work of the Master here had reached a stage from which it could be carried forward more successfully under other leadership; and the event has shown that I was right. Elders Powles, and See, and Swift, and Van Tassel will remember that it required all the earnestness and eloquence of which I was capable to bring consistory, however, to the same conclusion. The meeting was protracted till long past midnight; and afterward it was discovered that in the room overhead pious women (who had never before opposed the wishes of their pastor) had been praying in their hearts and strengthening each other with expressions of the hope that it might not be.
The memory of the just is blessed; and this is a fit occasion to revive the recollection of saints in glory with whom we took sweet counsel together and went into the house of God in company.
WILLIAM SEE was a man whose kindly feeling showed in every feature, as in every act. He was the conciliator in conflicts, and a worthy representative of the family which has furnished so many effective workers for Christ, not only as private Christians, but also as Elders, and Deacons, and Ministers.
ABRAHAM D. STEPHENS was the most energetic of the Elders of this church for many years. His devotion to its interests was unsurpassed by any. He gave himself to what he believed to be his duty with a persistency that knew no flinching. A man of few words, and of a rather phlegmatic temperament, he was also capable of strong emotion. Coming out of the prayer-meeting which immediately preceded the Lord's Supper, his face all aglow like that of Moses when he came down from the Mount, he said, "How is it with you this morning, Domine?" and then without waiting for an answer continued, "I'm on the Mount, I'm on the Mount," as if he had already seen the face of his transfigured Lord. Very rarely did he speak of these experiences, and this quiet reticence made his words, when spoken, all the more effective. It enabled him to approach men whom others hesitated to accost.
ROBERT P. HOE was a summer resident who was a pew-holder, but had never dome to a confident trust in Christ. To him Elder Stephens talked of the blessedness of serving such a Master, and then sent his pastor to him. The result was that this thoughtful and busy man became a sincere and humble adherent of the Crucified, and, in accordance with the advice of his country pastor, a communicant in the church preferred by his family in New York.
LEVI J. MABIE understood and appreciated Abraham Stephens, and united heartily with him in his plans for the welfare of the church, though the demands of business left him less leisure for active effort therein.
DAVID S. ROWE was a New England man whose very different heredity and early environment had produced a character which added needed variety and stimulus to the work of the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow.
WILLIAM F. VAN WART held very pronounced political opinions different from most of his associates. This fact lessened his influence in so conservative a community; but he, too, never wavered from what he believed to be the path of duty. He, chiefly, was instrumental in securing the publication of the Pastor's Thanksgiving Sermon upon the text:
Say not what is the cause that the former days were better than these.
HORATIO G. GILBERT was one of the Presbyterians who had stood outside the church with which he worshiped until, with the others, he responded to the appeal to connect himself with us; soon after which he was elected tot he Deacon's office he so worthily filled.
JOHN R. BACON was another of these. He became the excellent and efficient Superintendent of the Sunday School.
WILLIAM H. PLATT was another. He was the best chorister I ever knew. Nor did I ever have a more faithful friend. To his intelligence and piety and prudence in the Eldership this church owes more than its members shall ever be able adequately to apprehend.
I will not speak of those still bearing the burden and heat of the day, but I must not fail to cite as worthy of imitation the godly examples of pious women who labored with me in the gospel.
First of these must be mentioned SUSAN HAWES, who, in the dark days of the church during the Civil War, had charge of the Infant Class from which the Sunday School and the church were recruited. Nor was her brother, WILLIAM HAWES, less faithful as chorister during all that time, as well as afterwards.
NANCY M. VAN TASSEL is a name I cannot utter without emotion. A more willing, earnest, devoted, Christlike worker I have never known. Strange that we did not then recognize the fact that she was ripening for the eternal glory to which she was called so soon after her brief period of married life.
MRS. ALEXANDER SEE was a co-worker with her; and was equally faithful unto the day of her death.
There was one man whose name does not appear upon records of this church; who had won, however, the daughter of its most efficient Elder. She had preceded her husband to the heavenly inheritance several years before I knew him. Aware that death had marked him also for its prey, he came to spend the few remaining months with his child, in the home whence he had won the mother. He told me of his past life as an officer in the navy, and how when he was about to leave his London home his father had said to him, "My son, if ever you are tempted to do a disgraceful or sinful deed, remember who you are. Come back to the Church of St. Martin's-in-the-field [or was it, perhaps, St. Clement Danes?] in the heart of London; ask to see the baptismal record; note how on such a date your parents and sponsors in baptism gave you to the Lord, of which fact your Christian name is the sign; and then resolve, by his grace, to walk worthy of them and of him whose you are and whom you ought to serve."
He said that the recollection of this solemn charge had been his shield from wrong-doing all life long. It was but a few days after this conversation that Lieutenant Emanuel Davison went to render his report to the captain of his salvation.
"Your fathers, where are they?" They have entered into rest. They are forever with the Lord. Their bodies lie beneath the sod upon the grassy slope around this house they loved so well, to sleep unto the resurrection, the peaceful Pocantico singing monotonously meanwhile their everlasting requiem, a song without words, a song whose music has waited till our own day to find expression in the forms of human speech:
Till last by Philipse farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I wind about and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing;
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling;
And here and there a foaming flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silver water break,
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
"And the prophets, do they live forever?" Twelve of them have finished the work that was given them to do in this church. The last of these may well revere the memory of those who went before, laying foundations and erecting a superstructure in which, in due season, he also was permitted to build, at least long enough to have his name recorded upon the roll with theirs. Ten of the twelve rest from their labors, and their works do follow them. Looking unto Jesus, they ran with patience the race that was set before them. They counted not their lives dear unto themselves so that they might finish their course with joy and rejoice in the day of Christ that they had not run in vain, neither labored in vain, while holding forth the word of life, the torchlight of heaven's own truth.
The ancient poet has told us of the Titan who first brought fire from heaven to earth, hiding it in a hollow reed until by dint of rapid running he reached the habitations of men; and for such kindness to the human race suffered tortures worse than a thousand deaths. In grateful recollection and humble imitation of so divine a deed for the welfare of humanity, the Lampas race was run. It was a relay race. Each athlete seized the torch from the failing hand of the runner that preceded him, and rushed onward with it, at whatever cost to himself, sometimes dying from exhaustion before he could complete his course.
They did it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we, an incorruptible.
The light-bearer who would win his crown may not stop for explanation of methods or motives. The King's business requireth haste. He dare not delay to receive evidences of appreciation. He must care only that the torch goes forward. Even questions of sympathy he can answer only with what seems ofttimes scantiest courtesy.
How fares it, Torchbearer?
Nay, don not stay me!
Swift be my course, as the flight of an arrow!
Eager, exultant, I spring o'er the stubble,
Thread through the brier and leap o'er the hollows;--
Firm nerve, tense muscle, and heart-beating. Onward!
How should I pause e'en to fling thee and answer!
How fares it, Torchbearer?
Ah, do not stay me.
Parched is my mouth, and my throat may scarce murmur;
Eyes are half blinded with sunshine's hot glitter;
Brands from the torch, half consumed, drop upon me,
Quenching their fire in my blood, heated, boiling,
Scarcely less hot than the fierce falling embers.
Breath would scarce serve me to answer thy question.
How fares it, Torchbearer?
Reeling, I falter,
Stumbling o'er hillocks that once I leaped over;
Flung by a tangle that once I had broken
Careless, unheeding; the torch half-extinguished;
Fierce-darting pains through the hot hand that holds it;
Careless of all if at last I may yield it
Into the hands of another good runner.
How fares it, Torchbearer?
Well, now I fling me
Flat on the turf by the side of the highway;
So, in one word, be thy questionings answered.
Praise for my striving? Peace! I am weary.
Thou are unwinded. Stand, then, and shading
Eyes with the hand, peer forward and tell me
Now fares the torch in the hands of yon runner?
Naught do I reck of my strength gladly yielded,
So it be only the torch goeth onward.5
How fares it, Torchbearer?
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2Francis Thompson
3Both these documents are among the manuscripts of the Honorable William Nelson, of Patterson, N.J.
4Mrs. See told me another story which also I at once wrote out in detail that it might not perish from the memory of men. Peleg W. Adams, like his United States Senator, Henry Wilson, was a Massachusetts shoemaker. Like him, too, he was a man of more than usual ability; and he appreciated a joke. In this instance the joke lay in the fact that he was, apparently, the impersonation of Washington Irving's Ichabod Crane. It is not strange that he was a wonderful walker. From Newburyport, his native place, he walked to Piermont where he worked at his trade, and looked across the river to Sunnyside until he was ready to visit the author who had described his appearance so accurately before he was born. He was recognized instantly, received graciously, and advised to apply for the position of schoolmaster in Sleepy Hollow! His application was successful and he acquitted himself with credit. To Mrs. See, however, he confessed that he considered it his business to maintain the ghostly reputation of Sleepy Hollow, and that the images with pumpkin-heads which frightened the rustics by night could easily be accounted for, as could also the change of place of certain large stones at which people wondered. MOreover, in "riding a skimmelton" he had no superior. Always amiable and kind-hearted, though he paid his board promptly, he aided the farmer with whom he dwelt in gathering his potatoes and apples until the neighbors compared him to Sindbad the Sailor ridden by the Old Man of the sea. Yet did he know his rights, And, knowing, dare maintain.
The Teacher was accustomed to join the boys in their games. This offended a neighbor, who complained of the noise they made. Of this no notice was taken. But when the complainer intruded into the schoolroom with threats and curses he was received with indignation, and finally with a glance at the open window, a step forward, and a threat to make him a heave-offering to the stones of the valley,--from which he fled incontinently. At the outbreak of the Civil War the schoolmaster joined a regiment of his native state, and went to the front. Sent home with a shattered arm, when he wrote that it was well again, he was ordered to join his regiment in Mississippi. Immediately he obeyed the summons. He walked from Newburyport to Sleepy Hollow; spent two days with his friend, Mrs. See; and then walked on again toward Mississippi. Since that day nothing has been heard of him in Sleepy Hollow.
5Arthur Chamberlain
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