Legends of the Shawangunk2 JR.pdf - Friends of the Sabbath ...

150 Legends of the Shawangunk.
extricated, and taken to the house of mourning, where soon the neighbors gathered to
witness the sad occasion of bereavement, and to bestow such aid and consolation as it
was in their power to give. It was an affecting burial scene at the little rural grave-yard
on Blue mountain, when the settlers assembled about the open graves of the Stanton
children and participated in the last sad rites of their sepulture.
What added to the impressiveness of the occasion, was the superstitious awe with
which the early settlers regarded the mysterious phenomenon which led to the children’s
death. Those trees had withstood the blasts of the previous winter and spring, and on a
bright day in midsummer, when scarce a breath of air was stirring, they were laid
prostrate. What unseen hand caused them to fall? What unknown agency in nature made
those forest giants to quiver and reel and then come rushing headlong to the ground,
when to mortals there seemed to be no cause? Is it the result of some chemical change in
the atmosphere, or are we to await a solution of the problem until the supernatural is
unveiled to our understanding?
Though no one has yet explained away the mystery, it is a well-attested fact that trees
do thus fall. When the sun is shining brightly, and all nature seems to repose in the
beams of the morning; when not a zephyr fans the cheek and no unwonted sound disturbs
the ear, lo! a monarch of the forest suddenly begins to tremble, and totter, and then falls
crashing to the earth. Now, far away, a dull heavy roar will arise; and again nearer at
hand, comes the rushing sound of the bushy top of some lofty pine, as one patriarch after
another yields to its fate. It seems as if the direct agency of God produced these effects;
and the hunter, untutored though he may be, as he beholds these evidences of the power
and incomprehensibleness of the Infinite, breathes a silent prayer of adoration.
NELSON CROCKER AND THE PANTHERS.
NELSON CROCKER was a noted hunter, of whose adventures in the woods many
interesting stories are told. It is said that when he accompanied a hunting expedition his
companions felt certain of bagging their game. The following narrative, which is given
by Quinlan, is highly illustrative of early life in the wilds of Sullivan.
Northwest of Big pond in the town of Bethel, there is a tract of low, wet land known
as Painter’s swamp. In former times this ground was as good for deer hunting as any in
the country; and where deer were found, panthers generally abounded. This was,
consequently, a favorite hunting-ground for Crocker; but on one occasion he found more
panthers than he wished to see.
While rambling one day with his dog on the outskirts of the swamp, he counted the
tracks of no less than seven of these ferocious animals. As they