CHAPTER XXIII.

 THE LEGEND OF "SPOOK ROCK."

Pages  210-220

[Page 210]     

     It  might be inferred, that with the city of Hudson peopled by New Englanders, the Dutch Dominie of the Claverack parsonage would have little connection with the town, outside of the interest aroused by so great progress and commercial activity on the site that had once been Claverack Landing, but as in other cases, the new roads from Hudson led to the parsonage door.

     In the earlier years of the "Proprietors'" settlement, the Friends' Meeting Houses were the only places of worship in Hudson.  When that time had passed, the road to Claverack had become familiar, and perhaps for the brides and grooms traveling toward the marriage alter, there was a trace of romance in riding along the beautiful banks of Claverack Creek, when the road on either side was lined with trees and bushes white with spring blossoms, or in June when [page 211] butter-cups daises sprung up in their pathway, and wild roses turned their delicate petals to the summer sun, or yet later on, when the forest trees were festooned with wild grapevines hanging lush with their heavy purple fruit.

     From the time of the settlement of Hudson, the names in the Claverack marriage records were no longer entirely High and Low-Dutch, but Silver and Fairchild, King and Arnold, Pennyman and Hamilton, Skinner and Burck, Clark and Ray, Bingham and Hathaway, and others of New England birth took their places among the long lists of the hereditary names of the occupants of the Manors, and the Dutch burghers of the country side.  It was a day also when marriages were often arranged irrespective of parental knowledge, and on the pages of the yellowing records of one hundred years ago, stand some names prominent in the public life of the time, whose youthful escapade in this direction, awakened great surprise when copied by their descendants.

     In 1812 the parsonage family had greatly changed.  Three sons, Jacob and Philip, who had come with their parents from New York, and John, who was born in [page 211] Claverack, had all been admitted to the bar, and were living in Schoharie and Catskill.  Philip having married Eleanor Demarest, of the Van Bergen family of Catskill, and John being also married, had families of their own.  Charlotte, for many years the only daughter of the parsonage, had married William H. Davis, a merchant of Catskill, who had been aide-de-camp to Washington.  John Gabriel and Lewis, younger sons, were attending the University of Pennsylvania, fitting themselves for the medical profession.  About a year previous, a son, Charles, had died in his early manhood, and this first loss among their children had proved a great grief to his parents.  At the date mentioned it would seem that only the baby Annamaria, who had now grown to be a girl of thirteen, was left to make sunshine in the rooms of the old parsonage, which had once been so full of children's voices and laughter.

     Dominie Gebhard still occasionally preached in the Ghent church, though he no longer held regular services there at stated periods as in former days.  Until some time in 1790 he seems to have had charge of this church.  After that for a long period of years the little clapboarded sanctuary was dependent on occasional [page 213] services held by the ministers of adjacent churches, till at length in 1822 it became a separate church, and called to its pastorate Rev. Peter S. Wyncoop who served the congregation for many years.

     In the family Bible of John C. Hogeboom, whose first entries were made during Dominie Gebhard's charge of the Ghent church, and continued through many years, are the births of a large number of children and grandchildren.

     "On the 5th day of July, 1789, my daughter Cynthia was born, on Sunday about two o'clock in the morning.  (Peter Hogeboom my brother, and Ally Hogeboom, my sister Godfather and Godmother) was baptized by Mr. Gebhard," was one entry.

     The death of the same Cynthia already mentioned, is recorded in 1813.  "Dec. 7th at about two o'clock in the afternoon my daughter Cynthia died of a distressing illness of many years, which she bore with Christian fortitude, anxiously awaiting her departure from this world of trouble and affliction."

     The great care given to the hour of birth and death, grew from the prevalent belief that the hour of death would correspond with the hour of birth.  Nearly every [page 214] entry records some event or comment, which turns these early Bible records into a family history.  One brief entry carries with it a touch of special grief, as one of the tragedies connected with the Anti-rent uprisings.  It reads--

     "My father, Cornelius Hogeboom, died the 22d day of October, 1791.  He was killed in Nobletown, (Hillsdale) about three o'clock in the afternoon."

     Various proposals were made by Dominie Gebhard that the Claverack church be given an opportunity through the votes of its male members, to unite with the Classis of Rensselaer, but the opinion of the Consistory was for many years against it, and the church remained an independent organization until the time of Dominie Gebhard's English colleague, Rev. Richard Sluyter.

     A direct method was employed to protect the church from debt.  An entry in the church books under this head, reading "Resolved, that a magistrate call on those persons who do not pay their subscriptions."  When money promised was not paid, it was collected by suit if necessary.

     In these years parents had begun to act as sponsors [page 215] in some instances for their own children, and not only parsonage grandchildren were brought to the old church in Claverack for baptism, but also those of many of its earlier members.  It is said that Dominie Gebhard, in a number of instances, baptized the great-grandchildren of those whom he had united in marriage.

     In all the carefully kept records of this long pastorate, there is no official account of deaths or funerals, yet in the busy pastor's life these must have intersected the seasons of joy and thanksgiving, opening wide the gates of eternal life to the aged pilgrim and the youth cut off in his prime, as the new doors swung open for the entering generation.  Could we but see the paths trodden by the faithful pastor's feet in these errands of consolation, stretching over these fifty years, they would make a network of golden sympathy winding and counter-winding into every land and wagon-road and turnpike over his wide field of labor, ending with their tender ministrations at the door of the Manor and farm house, leaving there the comforting words and heavenly promises, for this world and the world to come, of this devoted man of God.

     [page 216]  For the rest, the multitude of white stones in God's acre which lies by the old church, bearing date of this half century, tell their own story, and are silent witnesses of the sorrows of the people, and the labors of consolation of their minister.  Even the corner where the slaves are buried carries its own legend of those years when slavery was common in this section of the country, but when death came, these dependents were given a quiet resting place, and in some cases a stone was place at the head of the grave, telling of the simple faithfulness and devotion of one of these dark-face servants.

     Once only is there a record on this subject.  This entry states that "the church yard is to be furnished with lock and key, and for opening lock and breaking ground one dollar is to be paid, two shilling for ringing the bell."

     As the custom of tolling the bell at the passing of a life, or the hour of burial, was in forces in those days, it probably gave rise to a curious old legend, founded on a still earlier Indian legend, both of which are still told with interest along the banks of Claverack Creek.  For many years the Begraft family were members of [page 217] the Claverack congregation, and between Claverack and Hudson a rocky formation of lime and slate of some considerable extent still goes by the name of Becraft mountain though the spelling is changed.  Under its overhanging ledges grow a wealth of ferns and wild flowers, and between the mountain and the creek from time immemorial, there has been a wagon-road.  At one of the most picturesque spots in the creek under the mountain, lies a great boulder, unmoved by spring freshets or winter storm, for it is not always summer under Becraft.  The winter snows powder the evergreens and the  young saplings that cling to its sides, and the ledges of grey rock stretch between the green and the white, defying heat and cold, while the creek at its base is a frozen sheet of ice, and a white blanket of snow covers alike the ferns, the wild flowers, and the wagon-road.

     Long before the first white settler had discovered beautiful Claverack, a tribe of Mohican Indians had a village here called "Pot Koke."  On more than one farm have their battle axes, arrow heads, and hammers been unearthed by the husbandman, while engaged in the peaceful occupation of tilling the soil.

     [page 218] There is a tradition connected with the Chieftain's daughter, that would lead us to believe that the Indian colony was not only strong and numerous, but that its young squaws were also charming in the eyes of neighboring tribes.  The Chief of the Mohicans had his wigwam on the summit of Becraft Mountain, a safe vantage ground in case of hostile attack, for the arrows of his followers aimed at an enemy skulking along the trail below, would have been fatal, while the Mohicans were quite able to defend themselves behind the mighty fastnesses of the slate rocks.

     But the Chief had a daughter whose soft dark eyes and raven locks, and nut-brown skin were a bewitchment, and whose slender moccasined feet were swift upon the trail.  Alas, that her lover was the son of an enemy who forgot the tribal hatred, when, hiding from tree to tree one day, he had worked his way to the top of Becraft in order to discover the weakness of the Mohican camp, and saw instead the graceful form of the Princess flitting between the wooded aisles at the top of the mountain.  It was useless to plead with the Chief of the Mohicans, though the daughter made the effort, and equally useless to fight for the maid, for [page 219] the tribe of the young brave was far outnumbered by that of the Princess' father.  The lover's only hope was in strategy.

     A swift runner brought her a tiny roll of birch-bark wrapped in a rabbit skin with a love message inside.  She found it within the flap of her tent, and trembling donned her doe-skin robe, and waited till the night shut down, and the tribe slept, and only the glow of the camp fire was left, then sped over the trail, and down the rocks to the shadows of the overhanging cliffs.  Among the ferns and lichens and wild flowers she met her lover.  The night air swept their cheeks, and the music of the stars sung their happiness.  The moments sped swiftly by.

     A low rumble in the distance, a flash of light across their path, a moment's terror of discovery, and they drew close within the shadow of the overhanging rocks, shielded by bushes and young trees from the big drops of rain.  The crash of the thunder rolled over their heads, the forked lightning played over the water and fields of maize, and they clung to each other in the midst of the tumult.  Then quicker than thought, more sudden than fear, came a heavy crash, a blinding [page 220] light, and the great boulder rolled into the stream, carrying the lovers with it.

     It was all over in a few moments, the noise and commotion, the flash and the downpour.  One by one the stars came out again, the young trees shook off the rain drops, moved by a gentle breeze, a whip-poor-will cried in the night, while the creek skirting the trail lay quiet in the starlight, and the overhanging rock had found a new resting place for all time in the winding stream, becoming a monument to two lovers, a son and a daughter of Indian Chiefs of alien tribes.  This is the Indian legend of "Spook Rock," but for many a year the story that has been oftenest told as connected with this rock, is that it turns over every time it hears the Claverack church bell toll, and though the great rock has no ears to hear, or power to turn in the winding stream, if sound is carried to remote distances, affecting the formation of rocks and mountains, the impress of almost two centuries of the tolling funeral bells of Claverack must have left their mark, though unseen, on the hard and rugged sides of "Spook Rock."