The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-08-20
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In Rocldand county north Of New York
City. The tourist writes: II you set out
from the little Mahwah river and under
take to cross the upper part Of Rockland
county, to what is literally its seashore
at Stony Point, you must hire nag or
foot *, unless you wish TO risk bicycle
on the stony hills and jagged roads. TINS
bit of country IS fast asleep In Its prime
val condition Of beauty and tnaccessioah-
ty. But It Is all the more interesting Tor
that. Some of the traditions OF the Revo-
luton cling pleasantly round Its old red
sandstone houses, and you come suddenly
on Rambrel-roofed mills with leaky dams,
and long, low farm-houses with the shing-
led roofs sweeping down into a protective
covering for the porch, and you always
feel sure that Major Talmadge or Mad
Anthony Wayne must have stabbed his
horse there. Not even in New England
win you find such homely, weather-stain-
ed, but ummpaired vestiges Of a former
generation, smuggling in Virginia creeper
by the roadside, and still cut from all
human contact, except that which is az
forded by the old church or the market
town.
New York sucks independent communal
existence out Of every suburban town
within thirty miles Of st. But these ham
lets are entirely unaffected by the neigh
borhood OF the great city. The traveller
who approaches New York from the south
or west feels its influence long before he
arrives at It. Its atmosphere of domina-
ton and urgency reaches out in all d.
rections, and its voracious activities make
themselves felt long before It comes into
view.
That there should exist close upon the
edge Of the absorbing Leviathan do
main that does not care a reparee, for it,
that laughs to scorn it's Elizabethan tim-
crackery and rests seemingly in its red
sandstone Lutherism: that is insulated
self-contained, shut off from all the fever
and ambition of riotous life-is very re-
markable, and for contemplative purpose
Is rather delightful. This sequestered
demesne started it's civilization hIlmbly
and patriarchaIly with agriculture over
hundred years ago. and when agriculture
failed 1t In competition with the west, and
It was no longer able to raise wheat or
corn for the market, It settled down in
to an unaggressive condition OF content
Enent to raise pickles and hay and let the
world go hang. How IT escaped the enter
prisIng despoiler. the speculative land
boomer, and the factory. one will find 1t
hard to explain. But here is beautiful
country about eight hundred feet above
the sea level very much like Warwick
shire in England, bubbling In all direc-
tons with trout streams, dotted with lit
tie lakes, lifting everywhere uplands that
show you the walls OF the Hudson on one
hand and the Ramapos on the other. but
unimproved. with the worst roads in the
state. with farms run down to luxur-
ious impotence, with old immortal estates
left to absentee decedents. with vast
stretches Of grazing land preserving their
original boundaries in the stone fences
that have become a soft gray-green with
age. and are only here and there lost 10
sight in the blackberry and wild grape
vines, but that just now are festooned
with milk weeds, columbine, poison Ivy,
and Virginia creeper. When you find the
farm house itself, It Is very apt to he
the original structure, in whole or in part.
that was built by the first purchaser of
the land. In that case IT is built of square
blocks OF soft red sandstone, and the Ia
Dor OF getting out such material limited
the size OF the house.
With one Of those old houses became
very familiar. Circumstances growing cut
Of the search for an important paper led
the exploration of the old garnet. and al
though the particular piece Of information
sought was not obtained the search
brought to light a curious record OF the
house and its successive inmates, unsus-
pectedly lying there in the cast-off frag-
ments OF three generations. Like old
trees, those quaint residences contain In
their garrets the Concentric scoring OF
their years. In condition, in conformation,
In neglect. they are very much alike.
There Is a long open room with two an
giles of the roof overhead, through the
ehingles of which tiny specks of light
show where age has eaten out bit OF
the wood. One or two square windows
In the gable let In a shaft of dusky light
dancing with myriads OF NOTES. There is
p dry odor OF burnt wood and baismic
herbs. and no other sound than IS made
by the wasps that have built their nests
against the rafters. The flooring Of the
wrought planks showing the mark Of the
axe, shrunken and warped. gives way I'M
evenly under the pressure OF the foot. In
to such a rectangle are usually poked
away the forgotten testimonies OF the
period, the manner. the habits, and even
the emotions Of the generations who have
lived and died down stairs. As each &C.
cupant of the house lost interest in his
records or passed away leaving them as
rubbish for his successor. they were bun
died up into the garnet.
The original tenant OF the house OF
which 1 am speaking built it in 1875 He
rad brought up his family in It,. keeping
all his letters and accounts. with com
mendable care, in an old secretary. But
his son failed To see the value OF 50 many
old papers. and, not having the heart Il
burn them, showed them out OF sight IL
a box He cleaned out the old secretary
and began a new era of accumulation
the results Of which were to be similarly
disposed of by his son and daughter.
A box OF such old papers must have
been put in that garret In 1881. II con
tains John Swartwout's accounts letters
receipts, and memoranda. He built th'
house in 1928. when he was thirty-fiv,
years old. and bad two children. one th-e,
and the other one four years old. He diet
in 1850. seventy years old. well-to-io ant
respected. and lies somewhere In his oil,
family plot in a little grove OF locus:s
His soon and heir at the time was thirty