An Old Dutch Church on the eastern shore of the Hudson and the character of 18th century Anglicanism
At this time of year, as October days shorten and the leaves begin to fall, my thoughts usually turn to a certain colonial-era Dutch Reformed church, "in the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson": It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent, whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to...