The McDonald Papers, Part I, Chapter 3: The Westchester Guides in the War of the Revolution
Later, and when almost half a century had passed by, the spot of sepulture was fortunately identified, and a plain stone put up, with this inscription (all that Quakerism permits) "Cornelius Oakley, died January 29th, 1805, aged 49 years." Odell's body was placed in the Cemetery of the ancient Dutch Church on the banks of the Pocantico, near Tarrytown, in contiguity with the sepulchers of his ancestors. A small stone designates the grave, but his age, the day of his departure, and the bare fact that he was an officer of the revolution, are all the information it gives of one of New York's most faithful sons. Had these men lived in the days of classical antiquity, poetry and art would have conspired to render them immortal, and they would have appeared in the Pantheon, along with heroes and demigods (in the society of Theseus and Hercules). At a later period they would have shone in Romance, in the company of Paladins and Princes and would have lived in
THE WESTCHESTER GUIDES 97 the same pages that have placed Amadis and Arthur upon the summit of renown. In our utilitarian age, their deeds have been suffered to fade almost from remembrance. A genera-tion that owes them so much, fails from want of information to give them recognition, and treads without reverence upon the ashes of the heroes. Names that ought to awaken ven-eration, sound in the ears of a new race as names of strangers. No one has ever depicted their exploits in painting or sculp-ture; and chronicle and song, lavish in the praise of others, are silent in respect to them. Let us devoutly hope that such forgetfulness will not be permanent.
A genera-tion that owes them so much, fails from want of information to give them recognition, and treads without reverence upon the ashes of the heroes. Names that ought to awaken ven-eration, sound in the ears of a new race as names of strangers. No one has ever depicted their exploits in painting or sculp-ture; and chronicle and song, lavish in the praise of others, are silent in respect to them. Let us devoutly hope that such forgetfulness will not be permanent.