Home / Lossing, Benson John. The Hudson, from the Wilderness to the Sea. New York: Virtue & Yorston, 1866. Internet Archive identifier: hudsonfromwilder00lossi. Illustrated travel-history of the Hudson River valley by the writer and artist Benson J. Lossing, whose chapter on Teller's / Croton Point is a primary source for Senasqua place-name etymology, Sarah Teller's 1682 purchase, and the Underhill vineyard. / Passage

The Hudson, from the Wilderness to the Sea

Lossing, Benson John. The Hudson, from the Wilderness to the Sea. New York: Virtue & Yorston, 1866. Internet Archive identifier: hudsonfromwilder00lossi. Illustrated travel-history of the Hudson River valley by the writer and artist Benson J. Lossing, whose chapter on Teller's / Croton Point is a primary source for Senasqua place-name etymology, Sarah Teller's 1682 purchase, and the Underhill vineyard. 304 words

remains to tell the tale but the ruins of the coffer dam and the remains of the pumps, which may be seen almost on* a level with the surface of the river, at high water.

The true history of the cannon found there is, probably, that it is one of several captured by the Americans at Stony Point, just below, in 1779. They attempted to carry the cannon on galleys (flat boats) to West Point, According to the narrative of a British officer present, a shot from the

THE HUDSON.

Vulture sloop-of-war sunk one of the boats off Dondcr Berg Point. This cannon, probably, went to the bottom of the river at that time. And so vanishes the right of any of Kidd's descendants to that old cannon.

A few weeks after my visit to the Donder Berg and its vicinity, I was again at Peek's Kill, and upon its broad and beautiful bay. But a great change had taken place in the aspect of the scene. The sober foliage of late autumn had fallen, and where lately the most gorgeous colours clothed the lofty hills in indescribable beauty, nothing but bare stems and branches, and grey rugged rocks, were seen, shrouded in the snow that covered hill and valley, mountain and plain. The river presented a smooth surface of strong ice, and winter, with all its rigours, was holding supreme rule in the realm of nature without.

It was evening when I arrived at Peek's Kill -- a cold, serene, moonlight evening. Muffled in a thick cloak, and with hands covered by stout woollen gloves, I sallied out to transfer to paper and fix in memory the scene upon Peck's Kill (or Peek's Kill Creek, as it is erroneously written), of which I had obtained a glimpse from the window of the railway-car.