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

Greycourt Inn. 45
While thus they sang the mourners viewed
Their foes by Cyrus’s arm subdued,
And saw his glory rise, who spread
Their streets and fields with hosts of dead.
This was the first Christian song heard on the banks of the Shawangunk kill.
Tradition says the savages were charmed with the music, and delayed the execution of
the singers while they listened. Was the last stanza given above prophetic of what was
then and there to take place? In answer to their prayers, God had sent them deliverance.
A panic seized the red men, and they fled in dismay for the mountains. The captives, not
knowing the cause of alarm, ran after them; but they presently heard the sound of
well-known voices calling them back. The next moment they were clasped in the arms of
their husbands and brothers.
The day was too far spent to start on the return journey, so they composed themselves
for the night, with the dried leaves of the preceding autumn for couches; and the
overhanging branches for shelter. The fires were lighted of the fagots gathered by the
Indians, though, providentially, not for the original purpose of torture, but for warmth and
comfort.
The night was sleepless. Each recounted to the others matters of interest relating to
the death of friends at the village; and incidents of the captivity and pursuit. The
sympathy of all was drawn out towards one of the relieving party, who, the day previous,
had come upon the remains of his wife in the woods. It was she who had been
tomahawked and scalped, not having the strength to keep up with the other prisoners; a
pack of wolves had devoured most of the flesh, the only means of identification being her
dress. The journey home was begun next morning, where a warm welcome awaited
them.
GREYCOURT INN.
PASSENGERS by the Erie railway, as the train slows up at an unassuming station in
southern Orange, will hear the stentorian voice of the trainman call out “Greycourt.”
This appellation, so rythmical, and made up of such a strange combination, at once wins
the attention of the tourist; and he casts about him for some romantic incident that may
have given rise to the name. He moves up to the nearest bystander, who appears to be a
resident, and blandly inquires what this uncanny title means, and is answered in the
prevalent dialect, “Dun-no.” A second venture is met with—“Can’t tell, boss; give us an
easier one!” The name cannot be of Indian origin, nor does it savor of having been
handed down from the broad-breeched Dutch ancestral population of the valley; yet it has
an historical significance if tradition is to be believed.