Wolferts Roost and Miscellanies | Page 8

on
complaint of Thomas Hunt and Edward Waters, in behalf of the town,
who pray that she may be driven from the town of Westchester. The
woman appears before the council.... She was a native of England, and
had lived a year in Weathersfield, Connecticut, where she had been
tried for witchcraft, found guilty by the jury, acquitted by the bench,
and released out of prison, upon condition she would remove. Affair
adjourned.
"AUGUST 24.--Affair taken up again, when, being heard at large, it
was referred to the general court of assize. Woman ordered to give
security for good behavior," etc.
In another place is the following entry:
"Order given for Katharine Harryson, charged with witchcraft, to leave
Westchester, as the inhabitants are uneasy at her residing there, and she
is ordered to go off."]
After the time of Wolfert Acker, a long interval elapses, about which
but little is known. It is hoped, however, that the antiquarian researches
so diligently making in every part of this new country, may yet throw
some light upon what may be termed the Dark Ages of the Roost.
The next period at which we find this venerable and eventful pile rising
to importance, and resuming its old belligerent character, is during the
revolutionary war. It was at that time owned by Jacob Van Tassel, or
Van Texel, as the name was originally spelled, after the place in
Holland which gave birth to this heroic line. He was strong-built,

long-limbed, and as stout in soul as in body; a fit successor to the
warrior sachem of yore, and, like him, delighting in extravagant
enterprises and hardy deeds of arms. But, before I enter upon the
exploits of this worthy cock of the Boost, it is fitting I should throw
some light upon the state of the mansion, and of the surrounding
country, at the time.
The situation of the Roost is in the very heart of what was the
debateable ground between the American and British lines, during the
war. The British held possession of the city of New York, and the
island of Manhattan on which it stands. The Americans drew up toward
the Highlands, holding their headquarters at Peekskill. The intervening
country, from Croton River to Spiting Devil Creek, was the debateable
land, subject to be harried by friend and foe, like the Scottish borders of
yore. It is a rugged country, with a line of rocky hills extending through
it, like a back bone, sending ribs on either side; but among these rude
hills are beautiful winding valleys, like those watered by the Pocantico
and the Neperan. In the fastnesses of these hills, and along these valleys,
exist a race of hard-headed, hard-handed, stout-hearted Dutchmen,
descendants of the primitive Nederlanders. Most of these were strong
whigs throughout the war, and have ever remained obstinately attached
to the soil, and neither to be fought nor bought out of their paternal
acres. Others were tories, and adherents to the old kingly rule; some of
whom took refuge within the British lines, joined the royal bands of
refugees, a name odious to the American ear, and occasionally returned
to harass their ancient neighbors.
In a little while, this debateable land was overrun by predatory bands
from either side; sacking hen-roosts, plundering farm-houses, and
driving off cattle. Hence arose those two great orders of border chivalry,
the Skinners and the Cowboys, famous in the heroic annals of
Westchester county. The former fought, or rather marauded, under the
American, the latter under the British banner; but both, in the hurry of
their military ardor, were apt to err on the safe side, and rob friend as
well as foe. Neither of them stopped to ask the politics of horse or cow,
which they drove into captivity; nor, when they wrung the neck of a
rooster, did they trouble their heads to ascertain whether he were

crowing for Congress or King George.
While this marauding system prevailed on shore, the Great Tappan Sea,
which washes this belligerent region, was domineered over by British
frigates and other vessels of war, anchored here and there, to keep an
eye upon the river, and maintain a communication between the various
military posts. Stout galleys, also, armed with eighteen-pounders, and
navigated with sails and oars, cruised about like hawks, ready to
pounce upon their prey.
All these were eyed with bitter hostility by the Dutch yeomanry along
shore, who were indignant at seeing their great Mediterranean ploughed
by hostile prows; and would occasionally throw up a mud breast-work
on a point or promontory, mount an old iron field-piece, and fire away
at the enemy, though the greatest harm was apt to happen to themselves
from the bursting of their ordnance; nay, there was scarce a Dutchman
along the river that would hesitate to