II LIBRARY OF CONGRESS — - x i 014 107 750 8 PeRimirpe® WOODSTOCK STORIES POEMS AND ESSAYS A BOOK OF THE CATSKILLS FOR THE PEOPLE 8X.: WILLIAM BENIGNUS .C3B46 We Artists and Writers We are human, we are humans on this Earthstar. If our thoughts soar in ex- ploration to regions unknown and are of no importance to indifferent martmen, we nevertheless must build our creations on firm ground. We shall not sell our souls to a public who wants ragtime and horseplay. An artist can not be great until, by striving and battling in spirit, he has found himself, has gained knowledge of his own soul and won control. Then only his inner world can become God's world and the outer world no more dom- inates him. If he is victorious in these strifes and battles with his own self, then no more the evil, disturbing, harass- ing influences, assailing from without, can shake his faith or throw him off the balance. He reaches a clarity entire, a tranquility and cheerfulness which al- ready on this earth are a taste of life in heaven. Then he is enabled to pro- duce works of art of lasting value to men, works which have the quality to enrich and strengthen the life of the soul and help to lift us to regions of imperishable beauty and purest joys without compare. True art is a necessity to the world, it is spiritual food. Art is a manifesta- tion of the Spirit. Many of us, who devote our life to Art, and bring sacri- fices, must suffer for ideals and walk roughest roads. Real works of art can only be produced by selfdependent souls to whom Truth and Beauty are dearer than the applause of the mob, the clink of coin and the seductive rustling of new dollarbills. With regard to my book I say: "I wrote it for the sake and love of it. My objects are Nature and Art and, of course, Humans, for they belong into these two categories. William Benignus Cubists and Futurists At first sight the art of the Cubists and Futurists, especially in paintings and sculptures, astonishes, is striking and, as something new and unusual, may awaken in the beholder a certain interest. At closer study it does not satisfy, is repulsive to the finer feelings of advanced souls, leaves you empty or makes you inclined to pull out the impressions left like disfiguring and strangling weeds in your minds orderly garden. This art, — if you can call it art — , does not soar higher than the surface and shows only disturbance. It does not dive deep, is superficial, a color scheme, a carricaturing of truth and of natural forms. It is an easy way of expression of disorderly and diseased minds, proclaiming incapability. Beauty, in the highest sense, is absent from its' creations. This art is mainly commer- cial. Cubists, Futurists and their ad- herents are on the whole people with undeveloped souls gone astray by dulled senses. The atmosphere to their liking is that of poisonous cigarettes, narcotic drugs, whiskey and absynth. They are materialists, no doubt, and hardly take heed to the terse, philosophical saying of R. L. S.: "The true materialism is to be ashamed of what we are." Modern real Art is something different. It is very progressive in the right di- rection. It seeks new ways and finds new ways of expression and is able to produce creations of perfect beauty which can stand rightfully side by side with the works of our unsurpassed masters of centuries ago and up to our time. William Benignus. -5 IS2I C1A609732 Woodstock Stories, Poems and Essays WILLIAM By B E N I G N U S Copyright, Washington, D. C, 1921, by William Benignus All Rights Reserved Motto : "Let us be cheerful and understanding in heart, kind and true in soul, aspiring in spirit, strong in good will and purpose." Table of Contents Motto - - » 1 Foreword and Dedication - - - 2 Seven Illustrations, p. p. 3, 17, 20, 23, 28, 33 Woodstock Stories Woodstock, an Artists' Colony No. 1 4 If you mail your letters or parcels 8 The Village Smith of Bearsville No. 2 8 The Woodstock War. No. 3 10 The Catskill Mountains .-. 11 A visit to Alfeo Faggi. No. U 12 Torajiro Wanotabe 15 The Overlook Mountains. No. 5 16 Rohland's Oak. No. 6 18 Bocks Eiche— Buck's Oak 20 A great White Ash 21 A Trip around the Reservoir. No. 7 28 The Reservoir and the Acqueduct 31 New York State _ _ 32 Two Fairy Tales for Kuku _ 32 Kuku and the Waterbabies. No. 8 32 The Man who holds the Mountains on his Arm. No. 9 _ 33 Poems Son a of the Errand Knight 26 Schlaf wohl, mein Briiderlein _ 26 Ein Adler schwebt O du glanzendes Licht! Stormswept Forest Baby William Hunt Baby Ellen Lulaby 27 27 27 85 35 36 Gems - - 2 Arkansaw Traveler, Witchgrass 3 The little Moongoldgirl 8 Awakening in May 9 The Old Man of the Mountain 15 When "Old Overlook" smokes 15 Fairy Queen Elsa's Song 16 Time flies 22 The Bald Eagle 22 Good to hear. Notice 22 By two Oceans guarded 23 An Eagle soars 24 Camping in the Mountainwoods 24 Westwindclouds and Sunrays 24 White Mists joining Grey Clouds 24 The Mountainlake -... 25 Letter from Senator J. I. France 25 The Fairy of the Tigerlilies 26 Essays We Artists and Writers Cover II By own experience only Cubists and Futurists Cover II Prayer — Not Selfinterest, but Sacrifice 4 America as I wish it to be Be glad! - 21 To my Readers. Opinions Cover III N. I. B. Stargemmed Night - 36 Far - 36 The girl with the nutbrown hair - 37 The Creator - 37 Meteors and Suns 37 Statue of Liberty - 37 Miss American Liberty _ _ 37 God's Country, America - Hoiho, we sail — — 38 40 27 27 30 In manuscript ready, but not given in the book, are the Stories "The great Belted Kingfisher", "The Yellowjackets and their Destroyer"; the Poems "When in Spring warm breezes are blowing", "The Fairy Queen", "Her heart apine", "Im Gedenken"— "Schon lange her. 1898", "Der Regentropfen und das Meer"; the Essays "What war and politics mean", "Make them quit", "Mountains and Sea", "The Soul is like a Mountainbrook", "At the Crossroad", "Artists and Nature", "The World of Thought our Real World", "Sayings of Odin". £ 2 St Woodstock Stories. Poems and Essays Foreword and Dedication Quite some years ago, — if I remember right, it was in 1905 — , I wandered on foot in late summer 100 miles thru the western Catskills, from Ellenville, Ulster Co., N. Y., where I picked huckleberries on Shawangunk Mountain, to Oneonda and up to Cooperstown and Fly Creek, Otsego Co., N. Y., where I picked hops for Sheldon H. Elderkin and others. I never forget that journey, the blueing mountains, the whispering forests, the singing brooks. The most wonderful part was my walk thru romantic "Frost Valley". I met good, plain, honest people all along. That journey I put in words, but the Ms. became lost. I suc- ceeded later on, thru the kindness of Col. Henry W. Shoemaker, to publish my "Shawangunk Mountain Stories" and my "Stories of the Catskills". They are on file in the New York Public Library, 42d Street and 5th Ave., if anybody cares to read them. The latter book I might better have called "A Nook in a Catskill Valley". But it was in my mind to continue my explorations of the Catskill regions, and so I let the first title stand. My "Woodstock Stories" are a contin- uation of my "Stories of the Catskills". All of my Woodstock Stories were written there, but in most of them is the atmo- sphere of the Catskills, are the heart and soul of the clear mountainbrooks, of the green mountainforests, of wander- clouds sailing on the blue sky, of star- gemmed nights and of glorious days full of buoyant life and sunlight. The title of the book covers this, and the book itself gives you a peep into the Catskill Wonderland of marvels, mys- teries and secrets. I wrote the book as well for my own enjoyment as for the enjoyment of all readers who take interest in Nature and Art. I wrote it, before all, for readers who know the Catskills and love them and whose feelings, convictions and ideas about the enchanted regions, which I describe, I tried to give utterance in plain words. William Benignus New York City, November 1920. To the Readers who love the Catskills mv book is dedicated. Gems Gems, that sparkle fair and strong, poets only have in song, but, like heaven's stars so bright, many-rayed they stream their light, chase the darkness, cheer the heart, gems they are of rarest art. From photo, copyright by Louis E. Jones, by permission. Mountain Pastures, Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y. In the background rises the eastern part of the Overlook Range. The mountain farthest to the right is Overlook, the mountain in the centre is The Sentinel or Horsehead, to the left is The Saddlebow. In the middleground nestles in the valley of the Saivkill and Tannery Brook the village of Woodstock. Behind the big trees near the centre is visible the white spire of the Dutch Reformed Church. The Arkansaw Traveler A Fairy Ditty. — By William Benignus Fast on the winds ride the tumbleweeds, jolly in company traveling. "Why so fleet on the winds, little weeds?" "Just because we like traveling." "Hoiho, where do you put up tonight?" "Where the winds put up! Where the winds put up!" <£ 4 J* Not Selfinterest, but Sacrifice In stepping before the public an artist must be ready for judgments of his work. The beginner is apt to retort. To a master it matters not; knowing the values he created he is able to con- front criticism by friend or foe with equal fortitude. If an artist brings before the world the child of his heart, — be it book, com- position, painting, sculpture, architec- tural or engineering work — , he often hears this remark: You do it in self- interest. I say: Every worker is worth his wage. But this does by no means cover the case. To a real artist fame and the money question are of secondary consideration. He works, because he follows the call of the inner voice, con- sciously, not unconsciously, — the Con- scious having its origin in the Uncon- scious. Take, as a shining example, the greatest master of music, Beethoven. I am sure that he knew for which pur- pose he worked and why he created his masterpieces. He was impelled by the Spirit. He consciously followed the call of his inner voice and worked and toiled, forgetting, while he toiled, his uncon- genial surroundings and all hindrances, his poverty, his privations, his bodily sufferings, himself even, eliminating not his personality, but his earthly I, and merging his soul and spirit into the great Allconscious, the Soul of all Souls, the Spirit of all Spirits, the Light of all Lights, the Life of all Lives, in which we breathe, move and are immortal. Wilhelm Benignus. Woodstock, Ulster County, New York, an Artists' Colony Woodstock Story No. 1 By William Benignus In the morning of October the 8th, 1920, a beautiful autumn day, I was standing in front of the Woodstock Post Office, waiting for the mail, when a voice from the street hailed me: "Halloo, Benignus! How are you?" That was Mr. Henry Weil, a New York journalist. "You are the first acquaintance I met here," he said. "And the first thing I found here were some of your songs laying on a table in the "Irving ton. Hotel". "Strange," I said, "but I am glad to meet you here. How do you like Woodstock?" "The place is just wonderful," replied Mr. Weil, "I am here for the first time and came this morning from Kingston, where just by a whim I took the stage for Woodstock." "How long are you going to stay?" I asked. "I have to go back with the next stage to Kingston," said Mr. Weil, "but I return in a week or so to visit Mr. Vente on his farm near Stony Hol- low. This gives me a chance to come up here and take a better look around. For the country here is just beautiful." And Mr. Weil is right. Like him so> thinks, I believe, every visitor, and one or the other buys a lot and a house and settles down as a Woodstocker. Go where you will in the neighborhood, north, west, east, south, to Birdcliff or to Bearsville, to Saugerties or to Mon- tana, you find plentifully spots where enticing vistas and panoramas of the Catskill Country can prominently be seen. Woodstock itself, the village, is very interesting. The place could as well be called Brooktown, for clear brooks or creeks wind thru the village, so the Sawkill, the Tannery Brook and the Meadow Brook. The words "brook", "creek", "kill" mean the same thing, a running water flowing toward a river or stream. About 6 years ago the attractions of the land drew many New York artists to the place. The natives at first did not fancy the modern ways of the new- comers, but they have become reconciled, for the visitors bring business and money to the place. Painters, sculptors, architects, musicians, writers for news- J* 5 papers, magazines and periodicals, authors and similar folks have made Woodstock their summerheadquarters. The painters and paintresses, the latter often in bloomers or pants, generally stick together in gangs. In the good old summertime they wander thru the streets and into the fields and woods, carrying their paintboxes, brushes, easels, camp- stools, select choice places and dot the landscape picturesquely. I tell you they swank their old brushes in style, these regular artists! 45 years ago there was a different class of people in Woodstock than there is now. Tanneries and sawmills were going in lively style and the people were always busy. The bluestone-business was blooming. Quarries producing the bluestones, which were used as flagstones and for building purposes, were numer- ous in and around Woodstock. In some of them 20 men were employed steadily, and every weekday from 10 to 40 loaded wagons with bluestones left the village. Now only two quarries are running, the larger one belonging to Steward Jones, who has a few men working, changing, when necessary, quarrywork with farm- work. Woodstock has grown a little since that time. It will grow to be a city, by and by. The houses stand apart, with plenty of space to spare for flower gardens and vegetable gardens. Good boarding houses and hotels accom- odate the visitors. "The Aliens", on the hill, has a studio building close by and offers a fine view of the mountains and valley. "The Irvington", Hotel and Restaurant, Mr. A. Kohl, proprietor, serves good meals and gives rooms at moderate prices during all seasons. The "Tannery Brook House" is also very re- commendable. Several good garages for autos and repairing are handy in the village. A prominent landmark is the Dutch Reformed Church, on Main Street, op- posite the Post Office, with its white, sharply pointed spire crowned by an arrowweathervane turning on a brass- ball. Woodstock has 4 churches: Dutch Re- formed Protestant Church, Rev. J. F. Nichols, D. D., Pastor, and Noah L. Mower, Sexton; Methodist Church; Lutheran Church; Christian Science Church. By the way, at the Presidential Elec- tion, November 2, 1920, at least two thirds of Woodstock's legal voters, my- self included, voted for Warren G. Hard- in g. President-Elect Harding is a Bap- tist — an officer in the First Church, Marion, Ohio. Mr. Noah Mower, of the Reformed Church, began his services as Sexton, 33 years ago and is ringing the church- bell since that time at proper occasions. That was 1888, at the time of the big blizzard, which I remember very well, for I was shovelling snow 10 feet high in New York that time. The Reformed Church was organized Jan. 5, 1805, and celebrated the Centennial or its 100th Anniversary Jan. 5, 1905. Rev. W. F. Luther was Pastor and Chairman. He moved away. The church offered a hearty welcome to instructors, authors and artists. I am sure, that "Welcome!" has had effect since then. I often listened Sunday mornings from Diedrich's house nearby to the singing of the assembled congregation and was astonished to hear the churchfolks sing their hymns and songs to the melodies "Deutschland, Deutschland fiber alles", "Ich hatt einen Kameraden", "Ich bin ein deutscher Knabe". To my mind came the lines of one of my own poems: "Du deutscher Geist, der ivie Sonnen flammt, durch dich soil die Welt noch ge- su nden!" Behind the Irvington Hotel on the Rock City Road, stands Mr. Stanley B. I o igyedr's residence and garage. Long- year owns and manages the autostages and buses which bring the travelers to and from Woodstock to their destinations. One of the best autoloads in New York State leads from Kingston to West Hur- ley, Woodstock, Bearsville and farther on. The autoroads around the Asholcan Reservoir, to which this New State Road brings you, are without reproach. Correct distances are: Ingston, West Shore Depot, to Wood- stock, centre, 12 miles, to West Hurley, 7 miles; Kingston, city limits, to Wood- stock, centre, 10 miles; Woodstock to Wesi Hurley, West Shore Depot. 4 110 miles, to Ashokan, on the Reservoir. 4 miles: Woodstock to Meads Hotel, a walk straight up the mountain. 2% miles, to the left on the Rock City Road to Shady, 3 miles, to the right on the Rock City Road a walk up the mountain to £ 6 £ the top of Overlook Mountain and the Overlook House, 5 miles; Woodstock to Saugerties, 10 miles; Woodstock ^ to Bearsville 2 miles; Bearsville to Ventcta, 12 miles; Woodatocfc to Montana, 1% miles. When you walk on the flanks of Overlook vou find often these significant signs adorning the way (I found Frost Valley" on my walk of 100 miles thru the Western Catskills littered with them) : "No Passing thru Private Road ; "No Thorofare. Please keep to the Highway"; "Private Property. No Thorofare"; "Tresprassing on these grounds is forbidden by penalty of the Law"; "Keep off. Dogs!"; "Danger. Keep out!"; "No Strangers allowed here". The Village Green or Village Centre, a small green place shaded by old locust trees and maples, is on Main Street in front of the Dutch Reformed Church. There during June, July, August and until middle of September a fair is held every Saturday morning, to which the people stream and have a pleasant, en- tertaining time and buy things which catch their fancy: objects of art, sculp- tures, paintings, useful articles, cloths, shirts, shoes, stockings, homemade cakes and pies, honey, candy, everything cheap. Opposite the church and The Green on Main Street is the Post Office. An hour before it op^ns for mail delivery a waiting crowd gathers in front of the little house and holds sweet gossip. On the iron railings along the sidewalk they roost, and it is a special pleasure to run the gauntlet between the waiting; crowd lining the sidewalk on both sides. In the village are 2 grocery stores, owned and conducted by Happy and Elwy '. the other by the Elwyn Brothers; vvsnaper and stationery store, con- duced bv Norman Elwyn; 1 barber shop, the artist being Mr. Larry H. Elwyn, shortly called "Larry the Barber", the father of the Elwyn Bros.; 3 ice- crean and lunch rooms, one of them owned by Mr. Noah Mower; 1 butcher sh~->: 1 tailorshop; 1 shoemakershop ; 1 drugstore and artshop. The Drugstore and "Little Art Shop" is conducted by Mr. L. E. Jones, who makes and sells very fine photographs of Woodstock landscapes. The old shoemaker is an expert in his line. His replies are original and typ- ical, i. e.— Customer: "Are the shoes done?" Shoemaker: "No! Aint don- yet." Customer: "When will you have them done?" Shoemaker: "Cant tell. Got too much work to do." Customer: "Tomorrow?" Old Shoemaker: "Cant tell. Sometime next week." There is no laundry and no bakery in Woodstock. A laundry would do well during the summermonths, a bakery probably all the year round. You can- not get pies or cakes in Woodstock, unless you bake them yourself or wait till Saturday, when the grocers sell a few which come from Kingston. The bread comes from Kingston daily. In the summertime 3 Woodstock dairies give a sufficient supply of milk. One excellent dentist is in Woodstock, Dr. R. B. Whelan. The Woodstockers are a friendly, sens- ible, pleasant lot, all good fellows. A typical Woodstocker is Larry the Barber. He is a first class artist in his line, has a good knowledge of humans and their doine-s and can tell something of Wood- stock's history. Not to fore-et Dr. Mortimer B. Downer, the busy village doctor. He knows Woodstock's history and its legends by heart. During his 25 years in the vil- lage he assisted at the birth of 700 babies and brought them into the light of day sound and happv. That means much and is worth while. He owns a fine house on Main Street, near the end of the village toward Bearsville. I had the pleasure to make the per- sonal acquaintance of some of the most distinguished artists and writers. On the Saugerties Road Mr. William M. Fisher superintends the "Art Exhibition" in the AH Leaque Building. On the samfl road, farther on below the "Sau- gerties Hotel" live the famous nainters Carl Erie Lindin and Birr/e Harrison. Mr. Harrison also owns a house near B<-ars.vilK A little way farther on, on the left side of the road, lives during the summer months the New York artist Robert Chandler on his Ritterburg. A .iollv big fellow he enjoys life in his own way, in his own style and according to h>'s own tastes. He has no objection to the Sawkill, which flows near by, across the street, but he prefers stronger and fiercer stuff than Sawkill water to satisfy his inside longings. In Birdcliff, on the Rock City Road, halfway up the mountain, live several writers, instructors, savants and pain- ters of note. ^* f w* In Montana Village lived summer 1920 the Italian sculptor Alfeo Faggi- He returned to New York City in September, then went away to Chicago. Near Bearsville live on Rohland's Estate the artists Paid Rohland and his wife Mrs. Caroline Rohland-Spears. The paintings of both denote mastery. Paul Rohland's flower pieces are of special delicacy and sunny brightness and are, like his portraits, of charming spirit- uality. In October Mr. and Mrs. Rohland left for Southern France and Italy on a tour of study and pleasure. They in- tend to return autumn 1921. The painter Ernest Finey and his brother Paul, the sculptor, have their new dwelling in the woods not far from Rohlands'. It was designed by Ernst in original style, was built summer 1920 and stands treesurrounded as a realized little aircastle with studio, very practical and comfortable. Leon Kroll, in his studio below Roh- land's house, accomplished summer 1920 some of his masterpieces., His painting "A Day in August", an American idyll of great charm and freshness, was dur- ing November on exhibition at the Gim- pel and Wildenstein Galleries, 647 Fifth Ave., New York City, with works of the "New Society of Artists", of which he is a member. Kroll has the gift to give his models personality in his paint- ings and, what few can do, lets their souls harmonize with the characters of landscapes, I know painters who think it great art to wipe out the personalities of their models and who even go far enough to transform them into blots of paint. Leon Kroll has mastered to a nicety the science of "Dynamic Sym- metry" which Jay Hambridge evolves in his treatise. On Rohland's estate lives also during the summermonths the musical genius Eugen Haile with his wife, the singer, Mrs- Elise Haile and his daughter, the violinist, V\'inifred. Many are the fine songs which I heard Haile compose and sing up there. In closing this story I mention, with my other good friends whom I intro- duced to the readers, the painter Mr. Albert Beckwith Campbell-Shields. He lives with his wife Elizabeth and his two little ones, Pat and a sweet girlie, in his own house now not far from Tan- nery Brook, near Main Street. He just loves the mountainbrooks, whose big trouts he knows to entice masterfully. To the ever singing crystalclear and pearlfoamy cascading souls of the brooks he gives forms full of witchery in his paintings. He hails from the old royal Irish family of the O'Sheas, whose love of freedom is well known. I also met in Woodstock the American artist .17V. Arndt and his mother. He is a descendant of Ernst Moritz Arndt, the German poet of worldrenown. Fcr the first time I met in Woodstock my new friend, the 'eminent poet and writer Mr. Ehnar Vente. He owns now Hans Koch's farm, which I described in my "Stories of the Catskills". Koch's moved away. During his 2 weeks vacation in a mountainsidehouse in the middle of the woods near Ashokan, Mr. Oskar Ko'l- brunner, novelist and poet, at that time Secretary of the Swiss Consulate, York City, gave me a glad surprise by visiting me in Diederich's house on a fine August day. I had not the pleasure to me t poet Richard Le Galienne, who I near Shady. That's Woodstock. Many love it- The Catskill Mountains are ever thor?, + he green forests and the flowery mead and the mountainbrooks are ever there to make the hearts rejoice. As a leave- taking to the good people who hi there and work there, because they mast or because they like it, or who hav i a fine time and take it easy, because they like it and because they can afford it. 1 ay with my Connecticut friend, moth r Jane, the old Irishwoman: "God js you!" ft?* o <«5* If you mail your letters or parcels to or from Woodstock, Ulster Co., New York If you mail your letters or parcels to or from Woodstock, at the foot of the Catskills, write always clearly: Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y. For if you leave out "Ulster Co., N.Y.", your letters or parcels might go astray, as there are many other "Woodstocks", of which I name here a few: Woodstock, Ala., — Conn., — Ga. — 111., — Ky., — Md., — Minn., — N. H. There is also a Woodstock in England, then there is a "New Woodstock" in Madison Co., N. Y., a "Woodstown" in New Jersey (N. J.) and a "Woodside" in Long Island, N. Y. To follow this advice will be to your own advantage and will lighten the burden and make easier the work of our efficient Postmistress Miss Clara M. Park. W. Benignus. Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y., Oct. 27. 1920. The Little Moongoldgirl There is a little Moongoldgirl, a lovely, dainty, perfect pearl. Just listen, and you hear her croon : "I datched a big biece ob de moon!" I guess, ohe thing for us to do is, just to catch a moonpiece too. The Village Smith of Bearsville Woodstock Story No. 2 By William Benignus There is much lore to be told about Woodstock of years ago, many interest- ing stories and legends reaching back to the time when the first palefaces settled here and the Indians were still the rightful owners of the land. Who- ever has time and leisure to collect these legends and has the gift and genius to write them down in plain good style, will find appreciative readers enough all over the United States. A few years ago I camped in the Shawangunk Mountains with the purpose to collect the legends and sagas of these wild and romantic regions over which the Indians used to roam and hunt and whose old trails are still used by the huckleberrypickers who swarm over the mountains in the months of July and August and by hunters who come up there later.. My time and my lack of funds did not allow me to carry out my intention. The same is 'he case, as far as my collecting of legends and sagas of the Catskill Mountains is con- cerned, not to mention the Adirondack Mountains which, in this respect, I never had the opportunity to see, much less to explore. I can but touch the matter here and give other writers, who are working under more favorable condi- tions, a start. Regarding my Shawangunk Mountain Stories, long out of print, the well-known Poet and Author, Historian, Collector and Recorder of Legends and Folk-Lore of Central Pennsylvania and the Penn- sylvania Mountains, Col. Henry W. Shoemaker wrote about them (Altoona Tribune", Sept. 1, 1916) : "Nature fashions her masterworks faultlessly. Religion can be taught by the study of the wonders of nature, of scenes that are an inspiration to human souls. The movement to preserve the old time legends and tales of our mountains seems to be spreading in various directions. Recently W. Benignus, a New York poet, has issued an attractive volume entitled "Shawangunk Mountain Stories". These stories were collected in the Shawangunk Mountains in New York state and all of them are intensely interesting and novel. Mr. Benignus is to be congratulated for Ids work in securing these old tales before they were lost in oblivion. Some <£* 9 <£ of them obviously bear the touch of Mr. Benignus' own genius, but the founda- tion of all of them comes down from Indian days. In addition to their value as folk-lore, a collection of tales of this kind has an added purpose in creating an interest in natural scenery. The places described in such a book are bound to be sought out by nature lovers, and in this way each locality will become possessed of a coterie of staunch friends." During my stay in Woodstock my friend Eugen Schleicher mentioned to me that there had been a Woodstock War long years ago and that a black- smith in one of the neighboring villages could tell particulars about it. It might be the smith in Bearsville. I decided to investigate and started for Bearsville on the beautiful afternoon of Thursday, October the 14th. While I walked leisurely along the State Road an auto came up in the same direction and I hailed it. Its occupants, a young couple, gathered me in kindly. We rode 50 yards, when, bang-g-g!!!, the right front tire busted. "Too bad," said Leon, "vou will have to walk to Bearsville." "Probably, and thank you very much," — I said, "but you have to go back to Woodstock for rephirs." The auto slowly turned and crawled back to a Woodstock garage. I slowly walked ahead and soon hailed a chauffeur who came along in a fine, big car. He took me up and along and let me off in front of the Bearsville Post Office and Grocery Store of F. and C. Schultis, Dealers in General Merchandise, established since 1875. There the chauffeur showed me the smithy, which stands across the brook to the right. A man carrying an empty barrel walked from the smithy across the road toward a house opposite. It was the smith himself, Mr. Conrad Losher, who had just closed up his blacksmithshop. I walked up to him, we greeted and I made known the purpose of my being there. Mr. Losher is a pleasant, plain, e-revhaired, intelligent looking man of about 56 years of age. Of the Wood- stock War he could but tell me that he had heard from his father that such a war had been. We nevertheless had an interesting talk. "I feel discouraged," said Mr. Losher, "since last year." "What happened?" I asked. "My only boy died, Cornelius. I have a married daughter, but I cant get over loosing him. He died of influenza." "How old was he?" I asked- "Twenty. He was," Mr. Losher told me, "the finest and best boy that ever lived. He had a quiet way about him and never said a bad word to me or anybody. He honored his parents and was kind to everybody. If a fellow who was hungry came along and asked him for something to eat, he always gave him the best. If a man short of money asked him for a loan and a helpout with a little money, he always gave him something. He loaned money even to strangers and if I said to him: "Cornelius, that fellow will never pay you back", then he just smiled and said: Never mind. Strange to say, they all paid him, even if some of them came back after a years' time or later." "It's too bad you lost him," I said, "I sure would have liked to have Cornelius as a friend. But brace up, man! We all have to get over our losses. I myself lost a splendid brother in Germany 1918, during the war thru that malicious in- fluenza. Brace up, man, take courage. We have work to do in the world yet, and that is the best balm. Your boy is not lost to you. We all meet again in the other world." Between the Post Office and Grocery Store on one side and Mr. Losher's house and smithy on the other there flows the Sawkill, a clear brook which supplies the City of Kingston with pure drinking water. It is the same brook which flows thru Woodstock on its farther way, runs alone the Saugerties Road as far as Mr. Biree Harrison's residence then swings to the right and flows thru the woods. Near Robert Chandler's Ritterburg it forms a fine waterfall. Mr. Losher told me that he has seen the Sawkill rise 10 feet higher, so it ran over its banks and flooded the highway, carrying with it trees, rolling rocks and tearing madly and powerfully along. That was in 1888. the year of the big blizzard, and it rained like a cloudburst 24 hours steadily when the brook rose so high. From Bearsville two good autoroads lead to Venicia, 12 miles away, and one leads to Shady, to Pine Hill and to the Ashokan Reservoir. The little road up- hill, passing the Grocery, leads to Mr. Harrison's Beardsville residence, which is situated on rock land and swampy one too, but just suited to an artist's taste. My inquiry about the Woodstock War brought me to Mr. Schultis. He could not tell me more than that he had heard •J* 10 J* his father speak about it, but that he knew no particulars. In Woodstock I heard later on that a blacksmith lives in Saugerties who knows all about the Woodstock War. The following story is the result of my fur- ther investigations. The Woodstock War Woodstock Story No. 3 By William Benignus A certain blacksmith in Saugerties possesses a heirloom in the shape of an enormously long trumpet, that might be called a Catskill Alphorn. He claims it to be a relic of the Woodstock War of which he relates very interestingly as follows : "Many years ago most of the land around Woodstock was claimed by rich landholders in New York. Some of their descendants are still living in New York and can tell the story also, but not from the point of the old Woodstock farmers. These sturdy and freespirited farmers who were tilling the land, however did not recognize the claims of these rich landholders, but defended their rights against the usurping usurers with all available means. Thus it happened that when the New York landlords sent their men to collect dues or taxes, they were received by the Woodstockers with derision and mockery and had to return to their masters emptyhanded. But these greedy masters must have that money of the toiling landtillers. So they armpd their collectors, who came back to Woodstock and most likely by use of force made collections from the natives which they threatened and terri- fied. This bitter experience thought the farmers that resistance only could help. And as they had a commom cause, they stood together to take up the fight aeainst the intruders, if need be to the bitter end. They mobilized the whole valley, so that if the collectors came aa-ain they should not find one of two defenseless families to defy them, but fiftv determined farmers and their house- holds, every man, woman, boy and girl of proper age armed to the teeth. The great question was, how to collect such a force quickly and how to spread the alarm most effectively. There must have .been some brave men from Switzer- land amongst them, who knew the use of the Alphorn and its meaning. For it was decreed that every farmer should ■provide himself with a horn or trumpet of a kind like the blacksmith of Sau- gerties has one, so that when the collec- tors and their henchmen approached, watchers could give the alarm. Every farmer hearing it would get his own horn and blow it, to call to arms, and the populace of the valley armed with muskets, scythes and havforks would run to assist the oppressed neighbors. And the collectors came again to en- force their unrightful claims. This time the valleys and hills were ringing with hornsignals, and the farmers, wear- ing masks, caught the collectors and their men, gave them a sound thrashing and sent them back to New York not with money but with black and blue souvenir marks." These old Woodstockers had indepen- dent spirits and stood up as bravely for their rights as the old Swiss mountain- eers against the robberknights in the time of Arnold von Winkelried. Jt 11 <£ The Oatskill Mountains as seen from Woodstock During my stay in Woodstock, — from July 9th till November 5th — , the moun- tains as seen from the village interested me always. The residents, upon inquiry, could only tell me the name of old Over- look and Round Top and of The Ohio, the hill. Of the rest they said: They have no names. Maybe they have offic- ial ones, which I did not know, so I de- cided to name them myself. Here goes: If you stand opposite Happy and El- wyn's Grocery Store across Main Street and look toward the North and North- west you have before you the Overlook Mountain Range, which commences near Woodstock and ends near Bearsville. Farthest to the east, toward the Hudson, is the mountain which gives the range its name, the Overlook. He is the high- est of the company. On his crest stands the "Overlook Mountain House". West of the Overlook are mountains of orig- inal shapes which I name "Saddlebow Mountains. In the centre of the Bow stands "Mead's House", a pleasant hotel which, in white color, is visible from Woodstock. The mountain to the rie-ht of the bow. resp. east of it, is "The Sentinel or Horaehead Mountain" . Mead's Hotel is open during winter, the "Over- look House" is closed. The mountain to the left of the bow, resp. west of it, ip Horseback Mountain, while the next mountain w^st, toward B°arsville. is Horsetail Mountain. Behind it stands The Watchman, broad and solid. Where Horsetail Mountain ends another range of mountains begins and swings around the Ashokan Reservoir. These moun- tains and hills are seen to the best ad- vantage on the Rock City Road near where the Cemetery begins. Wonderful views offer themselves here at sunset hours. If you look towards Bearsville, at the point where Horsetail Mountain ends, a long range of hills swings in a halfcircle to the left, at its end The Ohio. Behind these hills, commencing at the left, tops of the following moun- tains are seen: High Point and, looking to the right, Ticetonyk, then comes into view the original top of Camelback Mountain, then Longneck and, right be- hind Bearsville, Sunset Mountain and to the right of it The Watchman. These mountains are situated in the Sunset Range, ending with the Watchman, where the Horsetail and the Saddlebow Mountains begin. I mention one more mountain of an odd shape. It can be seen from a spot near Rohland's house and has the round shape of a helmet. I call this treeclad mountain, which belongs to the Saddle- bow Mountains, the War Helmet. The wildernesses of these forestclad mountain regions are a. paradise for hunters, who start at their sport in November. Game is plentiful. Ra- coons, porcupines, foxes, hares, rabbits, deer, bears are found. Of gamebirds there are partridges and grouse. Many of the mountainbrooks hold trout of good sizes, so the Sawkill and Esopns Creek. The season for trout begins in April. Awakening in May Moi i .'..•'.' Song. The Lord with visage of shining light, who dwells in realms afar, has bathed in glories, golden and bright, the Earth, his beautiful star. The Sun, the victorious Orb of Day, tints rosy each fleecy cloud, and larks, that rise with a joyous lay,' :,: swing jubilant echoes about. :,: By W. Benignus The purple mountains, erect and awake, greet proudly the brilliant azure, reflect themselves in a mirrorlake which shimmers like silver pure. The morningbreeze whispers thru forests green, and meadowbrooks merrily run where flowers, sparking in dowpearls' sheen, :,:are opening their hearts to the Sun.:,: 12 A Visit to Alfeo Faggi In appreciation of their genius dedicated to the sculptors Hunt Diederich and Alfeo Faggi and to their talented and fair Smdmates The Sculptors Hunt Diederich and Alfeo Faggi. A Visit to Faggis. Woodstock Story No. 4 By William Benignus During my stay in Woodstock, July, August, September, October 1920, I lived and worked as useful or handy man in the house of Mr. Hunt Diederich, cor. Main Street and Tannery Brook, helping out as a friend, for female help was as scarce that time as goldpebbles in the Catskill creeks. Diederichs were well liked im the village. Noah Mower said to me once, when I borrowed from him a grubaxe: "Diederich is a good neighbor. He can have anything from me." Diederich, an American sculptor and designer of fame, was born on his father's landed estate in Hungary. At the age of 17 he came to America for the first time. From his mother's side he descends from one of the oldest and most distinguished American families. One of his ancestors, a Hunt, was U. S. State Governor. Hunt Diederich's works, many in iron, some in bronze, are exceptionally ex- pressive by the strength of their con- ception and the harmonious swing and movement of their curves and lines. Diederich certainly is an artist of genius and a master of the line. Ho is a sharp observer of nature and loves to depict her in spirited actions and fight- ing moods, in attack and defense, in grapple, stroke and parry, in love and in hate, in earnest and in play. Horses, dogs, deer, fighting bulls, alone or with men, in hunt or in game or at play, are his favorite objects, also woman. Diederich is of big build and power- ful frame, while Faggi, his colleague in the art of sculpture, is a finely built man of medium size. Compared with Faggi, of whom I speak later, the mind- quality of his work is quite different from that of the latter. The two, in this respect, move in different directions, thereby reaching different heights or spheres. According to their natures they try for different goals. Diederich draws the stuff for his creations from the material and sensual world, Faggi finds the source for his inspirations in the spiritual ivorld. Diederich prides himself on being material. No doubt of Diederich's sincerity in that respect, but I believe his real nature is not so badly material, for he is also a poet, and a good one. Both sculptors are great artists in their own individual ways and charac- teristic styles. Both possess the nervous temperament, but while with Faggi it is controlled, with Diederich it occasionly breaks loose with volcanic impetuosity and impatience. Diederich's violent soul is that of a restless tempest, Faggi's sensitive soul is that of a clarified moun- tainbrook reflecting the serene deeps of a late summer sky. Mrs. Marie Hunt Diederich Anders was bcrn, raised and educated in St. Petersburg. Her father was a Bait, her mother hails from Munich, Bavaria. Mrs. Diederich too, is an artist and is a good colorist. She is also a good lin- guist. And the best of all, she is good to everybody and a most devoted mother to her two darling children. To the Diederichs on July the 10th, 1920, the day after I came to Woodstock, <£* lo «£* a boy was born. The proud and lucky parents christened him after his grand- father William Hunt Diederich. He is a wonderful youngster, well formed and healthy, with big, expressive blue eyes. His sister of 4^ years, blonde, blue- eyed, selfwilled, gifted, pretty little Kuku, — Kuku is a pet name, her right name is Sibyl Diederich — , really a dar- ling and dear, fell in love with her little brother at once when, two weeks later, her 'mother came home with him from the Benedictine Hospital in Kingston, N. Y. That time Mrs. Sarah Living- stone -Mundhenk and myself were con- scientiously taking care of Diederich's household. Mrs. Mundhenk who is the wife of the sculptor Oscar Mundhenk had her little Betty with her, Kuku's affectionate playmate, being as big as Kuku but a few months younger. Mrs. Mundhenk left soon. She is happy now to call a little babygirl, Ellen Living- stone-Mundhenk, born the 29th of August 1920, her loveheart and heart's treasure. Mrs. Mundhenk is an excellent writer of Children's Stories. To return to Diederich. The first American Exhibition of Sculpture by Hunt Diederich was held at the Kingore Galleries, 668 Fifth Avenue, New York, lasting from April the 20th until May the 12th, 1920. An introduction to this exhibition was written by Christian Brinton. I quote from it some profes- sional considerations of Diederich, which throw a good light on his way of doing things. The sculptor says: "Before beginning a piece of work I make up my mind precisely what I want to do, and then endeavor to catch my impression on the wing, as it were. I try to execute it at the moment when I see it most clearly and most completely, no matter where I- may happen to be at the time. I first make a rapid sketch in wax, which I carry about for emer- gencies and thus have ready at hand. This sketch is small, as small as possible, so as to entail no waste of time or energy. I execute a quantity of these quick sketches, which I leave around the studio and turn to as I feel inclined- Those that seem vital and interesting I work into more permanent form, the rest I forget. I do a lot of small, decorative, and in a sense utilitarian things, for I believe that art should begin at the bottom, not the top. Art should be use- ful, should fulfill some specific end and purpose in our lives and homes. There can be as much aesthetic joy in making a candlestick or designing the leg of a table as in the treatment of the nude. Personally I like to work in as many different media as possible. Sculpture has been too long an affair of marble and bronze. It is too remote, too in- accessible. We must do everything possible to extend its scope and appeal, to insure for it a wider, more popular acceptance." "My effort," he continues with enthu- siasm, "tends toward the evolution of a distinctive style. When I have once per- fected a definite style, and by style I do not mean mannerism, or even manner, I shall be ready to attack any given problem. Style is to me the crystalliza- tion of one's taste and one's convictions, and art without slyle is like a dog with- out breed. Success in art is, I think, more often than is generally supposed, a matter of how you begin. If you start a thing right, you are apt to finish it right, but if you start without faith or spirit, your work will always remain inert and lifeless. One should complete a piece of work with the same degree of enthusiasm one possesses at the outset. Pleasure in creation, in creative effort, is the touchstone of artistic achievement. A thing not done with pleasure is as dead as a thing done for mere duty." On the evening of the 24th of Sep- tember the Diederich's entertained as honored guests the Italian sculptor Alfeo Faggi and his wife Beatrice. Following Mr. and Mrs. Faggi's in- vitation I wended my way, Saturday morning, Septemebr the 25th, at 11 a.m., from Woodstock uphill in the direction of "The Ohio", a hilltop, 1V 2 miles to the house of the Faggi's, doing quite a little sweating, for the day was as hot as a summerday and the air was filled with humid vapors as of .coming rains. These rains came down in sheets Thurs- day, September the 30th and in the night to Friday, October the 1st, and swelled the brooks of the land around to unusual heights, but the morning of October the 1st, broke in a glory of sunshine, the atmosphere brightened and the old mountaingiants again lifted their forest- covered backs and heads sharply against a clear, blue sky. But to come back to September the 25th, I crossed two bridges, the first spanning the Tannery Brook and the second the clear, broad brook called the Sawkill. I passed soon, on the right side, an apple orchard where v* 14 & golden and red apples in rich weight were bending every branch of the patient trees. The leaves of the maples along the road were already coloring bright yellow and everywhere scarlet and purple points of treetops and twigs announced the coming of frosty weather but also of the wonderful weeks of the American Indian summer. The road led now up- hill At the top of the long first hill I arrived after a brisk walk of about 25 minutes. There stood on the left side of the road" a white house in country style, the house which I was seeking. I had the pleasure to find the artist and his charming wife at home. On the veranda Mrs. Faggi was in animated conversation with Mr. X. I was intro- duced to him. A few minutes later there arrived in an auto Mr. Y. and Mr. Z. The three are friends of the wellknown designer, author and poet Hans Stengel, a German, born in Wis- consin. Stengel served 1914 as officer in the German Army, was dismissed on account of ill-health and returned 1915 to the United States. On account of his sympathies with the German people he was arrested in New York as a dangerous character by the U. S. Government, respectively by the Wilson Government, first sent to Ellis Tslavd and with hundreds of poor wretches of German descent detained in the overcrowded and deadly unsanitary hogpen for humans. A good many of the men and women detained there ana tortured, contracted deadly diseases and som- of them died. After Stengel had tasted to the bottom the delights of this famous isle and contracted there tuber- culosis, he was transfered to Fort Ogle- thorpe and interned during wartime. Interned with him in the same camp for the duration of the worldwar was also his friend, the German author and poet Hanns Heinz Evers. Their experiences at Fort Oglethorpe are a story by it- self. Stengel' spent the summer months of 1920 at Woodstock, where I made his personal acquaintance. He had a studio there at "The Aliens", upon a hill from which a fine view of "Woodstock in the Valley" and of the Overlook Heights spreads out before the beholders. Sten- gel has done some very good portrait and landscape painting during his stay in Woodstock. Messrs. X, Y and Z soon said Goodbye and went ahead in their auto. The Faggi house stands on a hilltop, and from there a fair panorama of the Eastern Catskills is seen, Overlook Mountain being the main feature. The old Giant stretches out strongly, his rocknose pointing east toward the Hud- son. Far in the distance the blueing Connecticut Hills in mellow tints form the skyline. Faggi's boy Giovanni was arduously playing close to the road in front of the house, a bright little fellow for whom I made later on some bows and arrows which I cut in the woods near. by. Armed with these he courageously strolled out on a hunting expedition as a terrible Indian to go for bears with his fellow playmates in the neighborhood. Some delightful hours I spent up there, a well of pure, cool water always near to quench the thirst. Mrs. Faggi, an accomplished composer of songs, played after lunch for me on the piano three of her own compositions, ' Venieian Boat Song", "Toscan Reapers" and a beautiful "Love Song", thre^ musical gem;- of simple and perfect b°auty and expression. They have not been pub- ished. I am glad to have made that visit- Mr. Faggi soon led me across the road to his airy studio in a barn close by and showed me four of his latest crea- tions which he had completed up here in Montana, as the group of scattered country houses of this neighborhood is called. Here he worked undisturbed. I like his work. Faggi's art lifts us from the actual and material, from the world of hard facts to a spiritual world of ideals, golden dreams of his mind's creation. It impresses, but it must be studied thoughtfully to be fully appre- ciated. His "Madonna with Child" represents the mothersoul splendidly. The execu- tion of the two figures in bust, reminded me of an exalted Buddha, — thought brought to life in marble. A great Jap- anese artist and sage might have given it the same form. A longer study makes you admire the purity of this work, the sweetness, seriousness and depths of feeling of the mother's face and the loveliness of the child. For love is the greatest thing in the world, and mother- love is the very greatest. Ever as the supreme example we have Mary, Mother of Christ. She gave to the world her heart's best treasure, her son, the Re- deemer, the Man of Men. J* 15 <£ Purity of thought and spiritual pro- fondity mark and characterize all of Mr. Faggi's works. These qualities come to light in his "Eve", a nude, up- right, flowerlike, slender female figure whose lower limbs, at first sight, seem to be out of proportion to the upper parts of the body. The legs, up to the hips, are very long. Yet this strangeness disappears when you look at the figure as an embodied dream repi'esenting the loveseeking flowersoul of woman as a type, a slender and fair being, holding tenderly and gracefully in hands close to her finely shaped body the symbol of fruitfulness, the apple. To me the apple, instead of being a symbol of seductive sin, is a healthy symbol of fruitfulness and life productive. A strong imaginative piece is the in- tellectual head, in bronze, of a Thinker, with the stern, pronounced features of a warrior and statesman. The fourth piece, which captured me most and spoke to me a sympathetic language, was the head of the Japanese poet Yone Naghugi, who lives in Tokio. In this refined face of a philosopher and poet the best qualities of the great Chinese and Japanese races, nobliness and kindness of thought, concentration, meditation, inner contemplation and an aspiring spirit find expression. The pre- tension of some critics that Japanese art and religion are simply copied from the Chinese is, in my opinion, foundless. Japan, of course and naturally, has copied much from China, but has great original artists, philosophers, statesmen and warriors of her own by the plenty. But this is a question to discuss which belongs to another chapter. It was 4 p. m. when I took leave from my kind hosts and walked down hill with the feeling of having gained an experi- ence of pleasurable value. Notice. — An exhibition of works cf the sculptor Alfeo Faggi is held in New York City, commencing February the "9th and lasting till March the 19th, 1921. Torajiro Watonabe Into Hunt Diederich's Studio, where at Main Street the bridge spans the Tannery Brook, moved November 1, 1920, the Japanese artist Torajiro Watonabe. He is a gentlemanly, goodnatured fellow, obliging, kind, natural and very popular in the village. I like his enthusiastic soul, which appears mainly in his land- scape paintings of Woodstock's surround- ings, of which he painted many. There is nothing of the crazy art in them, they are live and show much strength and movement in color and execution. These are in oils. Watonabe paints also ex- cellently in watercolors. In Woodstock we just call him Thomas. Wm. Benignus. Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y., Nov. 2, 1920. V' The Old Man of the Mountain He sleeps. The while the tempest storms, his dream new worlds in brilliance forms. When "Old Overlook" smokes When Old Overlook smokes, watch out! it will rain soon. Look there! the Old Man woke from sleep and lit his Giant Pipe. The clouds, at first like timid sheep, now for a storm are ripe, the smoke rolls down the mountainside, rainspirits open the clouddoors wide. <£* 16 «5* The Overlook Mountains ^CfamSu* 6 They are captivating, these mountains of the Overlook Range. Since ages they press downward with their weight upon their foundations. They are ever im- pressive, — in Winter, when white snow- mantels cover their giantframes and re- flect the sunlight in glittering brilliants, — in Spring, when the sprouting green of their forests restores them to joyous youth, — in Summer, when their vegeta- tion blooms in fullness of strength and they lay stretched in dreamy meditation, — in Autumn, when they are dressed in the fairygarments of the fallwoods flaming colorharmonies and their souls are endowed with dreamvisions of in- comparable beauty, at night over them the stargemmed sky, at day the hazy blue airsea with serenely sailing silver- clouds. The greatest attraction these moun- tains offer, when they announce coming rains or thunderstorms. Then watch "Old Overlook"! The old fellow is fill- ing his pipe! By George, he has lit it and is smoking in company with his mountainpals! They are having a con- fab. They probably talk about the ages of the world, when the saltwaters covered them and they slowly rose out of the deeps, and are standing now, greeting sun and sky and are beloved by wild creatures and tame men. When at sun- set the far mountains are glowing in purple they tell each other stories of the mysteries of distance and creation. See, how white mists and grey mists sweep along the flanks of the mountains ! The mountaingiants are enjoying a smoke. When a thunderstorm brews or a strong rain is pending, then Old Over- look smokes madly. No more a haze or a mist mounts up, but a thick fog en- velops and covers everything with its billows. The smoke from Old Overlook's big pipe mounts in clouds over his head, grows black and blacker and at last rolls down the mountain valleyward in the direction of Woodstock. The show generally is soon over. The sun appears, the refreshed land wakes up and basks in the sunshine. The mountains present a mag: Ticent spectacle when on sunny days the hasten- ing clouds, lustrous winddriven wander- ships of the skysea, sail thru the opal air and their fleeing shadows of chang- ing tourmaline glide ghostlike over the crests and slopes of the broad giants below them. Fairy Queen Elsa's Song: The Silvery Moonbeams The silvery moonbeams tremble over the fields, and entrance. Fairyland's folks assemble, quaintly they play and they dance. And I join, as one of their number, their games and their singing so bright. Flowers rock gently in slumber, fragrances weave thru the night. & 17 <£ WILLIAM BENIGNUS Catskill Mountains, near Woodstock, Ulster County, N. Y. "While in hot summerdays the mountainspirits of the Overlook Range sent down cool breaths of wind and golden floods of sunrays electrified the blood, I cleared with brushcutter and sickle the autoload and the forestpaths bothsides on Rohland's place and made them look like boulevards and their surroundings like little parks." J> 18 J* Rohland's Oak Woodstock Story No. 6 By William Benignus Seme of the loveliest parts of Wood- stock's attractive surroundings are the wooded hills of Paul Rohland's 32 acre estate on which his house is standing. I was engaged by him to weed and hoe and cultivate his vegetable garden and to broaden and make free of bushes and hindering trees the autoroad which leads from the State Road uphill to his resi- dence and studio, also to clear of over- crowding alderbushes the footpath which leads from his residence downhill to Bearsville, also to cut a path to his newly erected bungalow where the ar- tists Bradley and Camp lived and to put on a pile the timber and boards and cart away with a wheelbarrow the rub- bish laying around, also to make a little park out of a densely overgrown forest- grove near his dwelling. The work just suited me. Armed with brushcutter and sickle I went to work with zeal and finished the jobs satisfactorily in a period of about 6 weeks. To have a pleasant souvenir of this I asked Mr. Rohland to kindly write a few lines of reference. They follow here: "To whr-m it may concern. — This testi- fies that Mr. Wm. Benignus has worked for me during the summer of 1920. He kept in good order my vegetable garden and did excellent landscape gardening, clearing, broadening and making paths and trimming trees and keeping the grounds about the house in good con- dition. His work has been very satis- factory and I find him a reliable person to do business with." Paul Rohland." Bearsville, Ulster Co., N. Y. This was during the months of August and September. The weather was fine. It rained seldom. Often I walked from Wood-tec'-: the IV2 miles to the place, often a passing auto took me along friendlylikn and saved me the time to and fro, I describe here my promenad- ing, because it is such a pleasant remem- brance: I always took my lunch along and started from Diederich's House- After crossing the Tannery Brook bridge the S*~ate Road leads straieht ahead toward Bearsville. Near the "Little Art Shop" the Meadow Rrook bridge is crossed, at the end of the village comes another little bridge. The road leads on, Ohio Hill to the left, the Overlook Mountains to the right, till you come, a few minutes from Bearsville, to the third little sideroad leading to the right. On this soon uphill you go, quite steep. First you pass the Finey Brothers' new bungalow and studio. They own 3 acres of woodland there. Ernst is a painter, Paul a sculptor, both excellent artists who take work seriously. You come to Rohland's estate. To the right lived Bradley and Camp. Then comes the garage, then a studio building where Leon Kroll worked on some great paint- ings, then Mr. and Mrs. Rohland's house and studio and their admirable flower- garden, then the flowersurrounded fairy- house of the composer of some of my songs, the genius Eugen Haile. A num- ber of bungalows and studios, where other artists reside, are ahead and around. Miss Agnes Tait, the New York artist and illustrator camped up there in the woods on Rohland's place during August and the first week of September. To her generosity I owe the portrait illustrating this story. The drawing of the soaring eagle I owe to the kindness of the New York artist and illustrator Henry Nappenbach. The hill country up there is ideal. Lacking are brooks and wells. A sorry sight in the woods are the giant chest- nut trees. They are dead, leafless skele- tons. A mysterious sickness has killed these trees all over the U. S. Their wood burns up quickly and brightly in the stove, but gives very little heat. Many sprucetrees and firs up there also look dead, their needleleaves redbrown like rust. This is the work of the spruce budworm, who has caused such wastage in the State of Maine, where 25 per cent., with a high figure of 60 per cent., of all the fir growth in the State has been killed, with considerable spruce destruction as well. A good many summach trees, wild cherry trees, elderberry bushes, some juniper bushes, especially many aider- bushes in groves, birches, nuttrees, oaks, sprucetrees. hemlocks, firs, maples and American linden trees grow on these hills. Wild appletrees I found in many places. ^ 19 Jt The uphill road to Rohland's, as far as Haile's house, offers splendid view:; of the Catskill Mountains, to the right, and the Ohio Hill country, to the left. Where the road commences to run evenly toward the garage, you come at the bend to a great oak. The stately tree stands at a corner of a hillmeadow. Under its circling shady bower grow up young cedars and pines, one or the other already reaching up to the oak's big leafroof. I like that oak. Fine trees are good company. They are as good company as noble horses or faith- ful dogs. They can not run and gambol with you, but they stay with you in memory and brighten your dreams. I give my oak its name, Rohland's Ook. I measured the tree's dimensions. The straight round trunk up to a height of II feet has a circumference of 12 feet. There it branches and reaches, from the roots to the crown, a height of 45 feet. At the branching point the boughs sur- round the trunk in a circle like spokes of a giant wheel, the lower branches having a length of 55 feet ; they form a great leafy cupola. The roots do not show above ground. The bark of the tree is hard as rock and covered with a whiteishgreen lichen. It is deeply furrowed. My inquiry regarding the tree was kindly answered by Mr. H- A. Gleason, Assistant Director at the Bronx Botanical Garden, New York City, who gave me this information: New York Botanical Garden. Bronx Park. New York City, October 22, 1920. Mr. William Benignus, Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y. Dear Sir: — Replying to your recent inquiry, I beg to say that the oak tree, leaves of which you submitted to us, is the Red Oak. Quercus rubra. This is a native of the Northeastern States and is one of our largest species of oaks. For a tree 12 feet in circumference it is likely that the age may be as much as 300 years. The growth upon the bark of the tree is a lichen, Parmelia caperata. Very truly yours, H. A. Gleason, Assistant Director. I looked, November the 4th, for fresh acorns on the ground, but found only a few old rotten ones, some loose, some still in their big cups. Brown leaves of the tree strewed the ground already. I received a more accurate description of the acorns from the "United States De- partment of Agriculture": Washington, D. C, November 11, 1920. The Forester, R. S., Distribution Identification. Mr. Wm. Benignus, Box 61, Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y. Dear Sir: Your letter of November 1, and speci- mens, with accompanying descriptive notes dated November 7, are received. The acorns confirm the previous identi- fication of the tree as Red Oak, Quercus rubra L. This oak bears an ovate or oval shaped a Joseph Irwin France, Maryland, Chairman. United States Senate, Committee on Public Health & National Quarantine July 20, 1920 Mr. Wilhelm Benignus, 330 E. 69th Str., N. Y. City. My dear Mr. Benignus: Upon return to my office after a much- needed vaction and rest following the adjournment of Congress and the Chi- cago convention, I am very pleased to find your letters of the 2nd and 6th a- waiting me here. The beautiful postcard portraying your "heart's wish for years", the natural and picturesque "Shawangunk Mountain Stories", and the idealistic songs which you enclosed I highly ap- preciate. All these help me to under- stand your letters better, and make me feel that the love of the great out-of- doors, where truest freedom dwells, is really the guiding impulse of your life. I want to tell you how much I en- joyed "The Mountain Lake", the even- ing song which you honor me by dedicat- ing to my name. Its lines breathe of the coolness of the dark forests, and the mountain waters, and is very refreshing to read on a hot summer's day in Wash- ington. To my judgment, your choice of words is most beautiful and onomato- poetic. Personally, I shall support the Repub- lican ticket, as I feel that under the ad- ministration of Harding and Coolidge, which now seems assured, the liberties of the people will be much more faith- fully preserved than they have been un- der the present administration. , „ Yours sincerely, Signed: Jos. I. France PDH <£ 26 <£ The Fairy of the Tigerlilies To the Painting by Agnes Tait "Rohland's Camp", Eearsville, Ulster Co., N. Y., August 1920 Sound. — By William Benignus The greenwoods slumber and the Catskills dream. The mountaingiants with their soft contours soon are enwrapped in mist's or rain's velours, soon in clear skits their heights in splendor gleam A Fairy dwells here, where sweet peace allures. Her wistful eyes of brown like deep pools seem, upon whose surfaces the sunrays beam and dip and dive for beauty which endures Wild Tigerlilies grow abundant there, and mystic powers and witchery everywhere enfold the wanderer and take hold of him. The world's fierce turmoil echoes here but dim. The Catskills dream, the greenwoods are ahush, its perfect lay sings goldenly a thrush. Song of the Errand Knight Oft I wandered thru valleys where horrors engulfed and night, grimly advanced against me Destruction and deadly Fright. Ghosts of the abyss threatened, gnashed their gleaming teeth, hellworms and snakes were hissing, crawling before my feet. Fierce fiends were lurking, their staring eyes hatefully glowed, silent, purepurposed and steady, not minding them on I rode. Schlaf wohl, mein Briiderlein! "Was ist' das Menschenleben? Kdmpfen, Leiden und Sterben!" Mein Bruder Dr. Siegfried Emit Benignus, geb. in Heilbronn am Neckar, 1865, war Forschungsreisender und zuletzt Lehrer an der Berliner Handelsschule. Durch Entbehrungen wahrend des Kriegs widerstandsunfahig gemacht, raffte ihn eine tiickische Krankheit nach dreitagigem Ringen und Leiden am 8. Juli 1918 dahin. Er ist auf dem jSerliner Sophienfriedhof, in der Bergstrasse, beerdigt. Schlaf wohl, mein Briiderlein! Du gingst zur Ruhe ein. Ruh sanft, du tapfer Streiter! Ich kampf in Treue noch, in Not und Stiirmen heiter halt ich Schonheit und Freiheit hoch. Wir lebten und wir liebten in Jahren, die verfahlt, gar viel von Leid durchsiebten, doch auch goldlichtdurchstrahlt. Schlaf wohl, mein Briiderlein! Ach, mein Herzbruderlein ! Eya, mein Herz mocht brechen, wenn ich an dich denk, drin ist's wie scharfes Stechen, wenn ich an dich denk. Die Tranen rinnen mir nieder heiss und ungezahlt. Schlaf wohl! Wir sehn uns wieder in einer andern Welt. Meines Bruders Werk liegt auf in der "New York Public Library", 5. Ave. und 42. Street: "In Chile, Patagonien ^(.nd auf Feuerland". Ergebnisse mehrjatiriger Studien und Reisen. Von Dr. Siegfried Benignus. — Verlag G. Reimer, Berlin, 1912. «£ 27 <£ Ein Adler schwebt Ein Adler schwebt im Morgenlicht, das Gold urn die Kuppen der Berge flicht, er griisst das Leuchten mit schrillem Schrei, in Spiralen steigt er, sonnenwarts, frei. O du glanzendes Liclit Siehst du, wie herrlich der Morgen anbricht? O du glanzendes Licht, du seliges Licht! In Erkenntnis erwache! Im gottlichen Glauben schwing dich adlergleich auf aus dem irdischen Stauben! By own experiences only Man gains wisdom and knowledge by finds God, the Spirit of Spirits, who is own experiences only. To gain superior Life and Love, knowledge he must struggle with his own self, like Jacob with the Angel. He Your Fate? You are your Fate, must go thru purgatories of earthly ex- Your Future? You are your Future, istence before he finds himself and knows Fate is inexorable. Love and Mercy are who and what God is, and before he the Godspirits of your salvation. Prayer Prayer, in concentration of thought, and work, thus making life and work is ''communion of your soul with your a confirmation of prayer. Self and with God'', thereby finding your If / am, God is. If God is, / am. higher Self and cleansing your soul There shall be no slavery and mastery from things earthly. Your task and between Man and God, there must be endeavor shall be to verify this in life unity. Stormswept Forest I wandered thru a stormswept forest, the treetops reeled, fast rocked the bower, the stormcalls in the rocking forest rang loud, like calls from watchman's tower. The grand treevoices swelled the chorus while fierce in haste the storm rushed by, like organpe-als the mighty chorus of myriad voices swelled on high. I listened, silently responding, and felt my soul on wings arise, I heard the royal palms responding in paradise, in paradise. William Benignus «*5* £o *& From photo, copyright by Louis E. Jones, by permission Iii the Catskills, Woodstock, Ulster Co., N. Y. The great Ashokan Reservoir receives its supply of pure water from these Catskill Mountain Ranges. A Trip around the Ashokan Eeservoir Woodstock Story No. 7 By William Benignus The Ashokan Reservoir can easily be approached by excellent highways via Kingston, Saugerties and Woodsock. It can be reached from Kingston by the New State Road, from Saugerties by the Saugerties Road and from Woodstock in the opposite direction by the same Saugerties Road which branches off to the right towards the Reservoir at the "Saugerties Hotel". From Woodstock the Ashokan Reser- voir can also be reached by the highway which leads thru the villages Bearsville, Shady and Mount Tremper in a big, winding detour. Sunday, October the 24th, 1920, was an Indian Summer Day of perfect beauty. A note was brought to me by Agnes and Hans, the children of my friend Eugen Schleicher : "Lieber Herr Benignus. — Ich habe also das Automobil bestellt und wird es halb 2 Uhr (half past one) da sein. Machen Sie sich also um diese Zeit sprungbereit." — Eu. Schleicher. Mr. Schleicher himself could not go, because little Carl, his youngest child, was not quite well and he had to stay at home with him. I was ready at the right time and we started, a party of expectant people: Mrs. Minna Schleicher with her children Agnes and Hans, Mr. Eugen Haile, the musical genius and composer of songs and operas, with his wife Elise and, not to forget, their pet dog, elegant deerbrown Bobby, at 2 p.m. £ 29 3* from Woodstock in one of Mr. Longyears autos, the chauffeur par excellence being- Mr. Richard Reynolds. He did not know that he had in his auto quite distin- guished passengers. It was a genuine load of Schwaben which he took along on this their memorable pleasuretrip, for Mrs. Schleicher, a sister of the composer Haile, hails from Ulm, Wiirttemberg, a city at the renowned river Donau and well known by its "Ulmer-Munster" and the "Schneider von Ulm", also by its "Spatzen" of which there are different kinds. Ulmer Spatzen are also Mr. Schleicher and Mr. and Mrs. Haile, while I do not deny to hail from Heilbronn- am-Neckar, where a good many people have red noses from the tasty wine there which is called "Heilbronner". On the straight highway we rode to Bearsville, crossed the Sawkill Bridge to the left, then turned to the right to- wards Shady, the village, where we ar- rived soon. P'rom Shady a road leads to Pine Hill, 23 miles distant, where the New York silk merchant Mr. Theodore Michel owns a large tract of hillcountiw, on his estate being many fine summer- houses and bungalows for the comfort of Catskill Visitors during the warm season. On we swung in a big bow, passed Lake Hill Village, then Willow Village to the right, then Mount Tremper Vil- lage, crossed the Esopus Bridge, came soon to the Reservoir, autoed across the Million Dollar Bridge, swung to the Dam and to the Aerating Plant, rode a long while on the Ashokan Boulevard, the Reservoir always to our left, swung towards the Kingston Road, came to West Hurley, at the New State Road, swung to the right into the Woodstock Road, came into the Saugerties Road opposite the Saugerties Hotel and were, in a few minutes, back in Woodstock at 5 p. m. This roundtrip from Woodstock thru Shady and farther on was delightfully picturesque. Forest- and meadowbrooks ran with busy efficacy merrily over their pebbly and rockstrewn beds, soon to the left, soon to the right of the road which the auto took smoothly and quickly. The rural land, till we came to Trem- per, was attractively interesting, but naturally by its mountainous character and rocky ground it is poor for grain- farming and better suited for pastoring of cattle, sheep and goats. The blithe, exhilarating sunwarm air of this Indian Summer Day made living a delight. On quiet pools of the numer- ous creeks and brooks floated in golden patches fallen leaves. On appletrees near the road, all their leaves dropped glowed on the loaden branches their paradisal fruits in rose, carmine and sunyellow. Clumps of elderberry bushes, fringing the byways, still bore their black berries. In front of a pretty little white cottage a rowantreei, bare of leaves, decoratively displayed its scarlet berrybunches to us. Graceful Cosmos were shining on long slender stems, white ones and lilac ones, the starflowers of autumn, — alas! they wither in the first frost. Chrysanthe- mums bloomed princely fair, the queen- flowers of the fallseason, that easily stand the first and second frost. The tonic of the summer was ended. The tunes rang out in a final cadence of drenching sweetness and glory. Those shady, peaceruled f orestlanes ! and the open stretches with the Catskill Mountains ever visible, protecting the valleys at their feet. One of the most lovely scenes on such an open stretch offers the valley of Willow Village, its houses like playthings scattered in the green, its little white church with the typical tower ever prominent and in- viting, while behind, outlined against the sky, the mountains in a solid row rear up their masses. Autos, filled with sightseeing tourists, passed us to and fro, seldom a horseteam. As we rushed by, to both sides of the road desirably situated summerhouses, bungalows, cottages, camps showed up. One of these dwellings was so pretty that it evoked from Haile the ejacula- tion: "Gucket amol do, Elies und Benig- nus! Gucket amol do! Ischt dees a netts Hausle am a Biichle dort! So eins hatt i gern!" "I au!"— I replied. As we neared Tremper a jolly party of pick- nickers, just starting at their luncheon, spread in the open upon a table covered with a white tablecloth in front of a cottage, waved us friendly greetings and Bobby replied to their "Hoohoos!" with his original "Wow! Wow! Wow!" Young athletic folks wer playing cricket on the lawn near a big boardinghouse, a young lady watching them, her rich hair like waves of silken fire framing her winning face. Just before we reached Tremper the road branched off ^ 30 ^ towards the right to Pine Hill. Haile, always of a humorous turn of mind, here let loose the classical remark: "Maybe, by and by, it will be all right. We come soon now to the Reservoir." Whereupon Mrs. Schleicher in surprise approbriately replied: "Jo, hor!" And the writer of this story sighed resign- edly: "O God!" And again he sighed, kind of astonished: "6 Lord!" Mr. Schleicher told me later on that I did say so. I could hardly believe it. With- out his pointed hint I wouldn't have even "know'd" it. Later on, when I related this conversation to Mrs. Marish- ka Diederich, she commented hastily upon it with: "Grossartig! But its all perfectly - comical ! Everything is com- ical! The whole world is comical!" Well, we kept straight on, the broad, evenly running Esopus Brook or Esopus Creek to our right. Oh you mountain- brooks, how my heart loves you! On this day the waters of the brook ran, scarcely high 2 feet, in rippling quick foaming wavelets over their pebbly bed- A few turns of the wheels and on the outskirts of Tremper we crossed the low Esopus Bridge, and soon, as Haile had presaged, the azureblue mirroring waters of the Ashokan Reservoir shim- mered to our left in the sunlight and we entered the realms of fairie and of perpetual youth. We came to the famous Million Dollar Bridge, properly called Tavern Hollow Bridge, for it is built high over the Tavern Hollow Creek. This concrete bridge is a modern architectural wonder. Our auto stopped in the middle of the bridge and we stepped out and looked over both banisters down into the deep chasm at whose bottom, 200 feet below, the Tavern Hollow Creek winds dreamily to its destination, adding its flood to the big basin. High forest trees, rising unon the inclined ground to both sides of the brook, glowed in the glorious tints of autumn, their tops, touching in close proximitv so far below us, forming a colororchestra that sang symphonically with tone-ues of flame the final chord of the year's beauty. After we had passed the Million Dol- lar Bridge an incomparably impressive panorama of the Catskill Mountains to our right opened upon our sight. In a half circle these powerful giants guarded the waters of the big basin. Opposite them, across the basin, another long range of mountains rose, the same that ended at Woodstock with Overlook Moun- tain. How powerful these forestcovered giants looked! So proudly they held up their round heads to the glorious after - noonsky. Here they reposed, circling the valleys, Traced at their posts like soldiers on duty by the magician Time. In cosmic grandeur the mighty fellows rested. But even while resting they were active for the good of men and many creatures, from their vast, benevolent hearts ever streaming the lifefluid Water, whose restless, ever wandering, ever changing spirits appear to us as brooks, rivers, lakes, oceans, mists, clouds. Here they reposed and rested, massive, imposing, these Giants of the Ages. One mighty Titan in the front won my spec- ial admiration. Grandly on watch, a guardian of the passes, he lay there with his heavy weight. He guards the inroads to this fairyland of New York State, where wondrous portals open vn'de. It s r ems to me as if many won- ders and treasures of all kinds can be found by adventourous souls daring to invade and explore these enchanted r^e-ions, which now, in the light of the sinking sun, were bathed in a fine, pearly aerial haze, as if covered by a trans- parent silverveil which the Spirits of Evening had tenderly dropped on them. Wq went abead leisurely, came to the Ashokan Bridge and stopped at the Aerating Plant, with Aerator and Screen ^hcnn^^r. Here the waters, before be- ing- allowed to flow to New York City, comr>res?ed and eiected in a cleansing nrocess gush up and nearl in fairy foun- tains, mount and sink in fine, snowwhite showers continually, while a curving rainbow, created by the sunrays, beaut- ifies their unceasing, active work and fascinating play. The road from there to Woodstock, while the Reservoir and the Mountains across were ever to our left, offered many fine views, till while we neared Woodstock, one of my best beloved, the Overlook Range, came in sight. It was not long till we autoed into Main Street, turned into the Rock City Road and ended our enjoyable roundtrip in front of Mr. Schleicher's house. £ 31 <£ The Ashokan Reservoir and the Catskill Mountain Acqueduct Ashokan is an Indian name and sig- nifies Place of Fish. The great Ashokan Reservoir receives its waters thru creeks or brooks which flow from the breasts of the surrounding- mountains of the Catskill Range, open toward Kingston, N. Y. To name a few: Wittenburg, Cornell and Slide Mountains, High Point, South Mountain, Torrens Hook, Mount Ticetonyk and Little Tontshi, the latter three visible from the Ashokan Bridge over the Dividing Weir, Indian Head, Round Top, Mead's Mountain or "The Sentinel" and Overlook Mountain, these ltater two be longing to the Overlook Range, at whose foot the villages Bearsville, Woodstock with Rock City and Birdcliff, Saugcr- ties and, farther off, West Hurley, and Maeverick are situated, while Overlook Mountain, farthest east, points its rocky nose towards the Hudson River. The Ashokan Reservoir, which supplies New York City with pure water, is 610 feet above sea level. A forty-mile high- way or parkway encircles the Reservoir, which is 12 miles long and 3 miles wide and holds 120,000,000 gallons. The shore line is 40 miles, with 10 concrete bridges, amongst them the Ashokan Bridge, which crosses the Reservoir at the dividing weir, is 1,120 feet long and has 15 arches of 67,5 span. Chief En- gineer is I. Waldo Smith. Another one of these 10 bridges is the Esopus Bridge, under which the Esopus Creek flows toward the Dam. The view above the Ashokan Reservoir with the bridge in front, is one of the fairest. When tour- ing around the Reservoir it is worth while to stop on the Million Dollar Bridge, or better called Tavern Holloiv Bridge. Far below, 200 feet, thru the hollow or chasm flows the Tavern Hol- low Creek. Worth to be seen are the Olive Bridge Dam, showing Esopus Can- yon, and a look over the Spillway of the Reservoir, where the surplus water run? off. The water, before it leaves the Reser- voir, is cleansed by an Aereator. Thru 1600 nozzles it is thrown into the air in a fine spray,, taking up an admixture of oxygen from the atmosphere, while unhealthy gases and undesirable mater- ial are removed. Four creeks constitute the main sour- ces of the water supply: The Esopus, Rondout, Schoharie and Catskill. The total area of the enth'e watershed is over 900 square miles. The water area is 8,100 acres, maximum depth 190 feet, average depth 50 feet. The city owns 15,222 acres. The supply in Catskill water to New York City is about 500,- 000,000 gallons daily, which flow to the city thru the big main, a distance of 120 miles. On the way four large lakes are formed, filled with the purest water. From its height in the mountains the conduit sinks under the rivers to a depth of 1114 feet below the sea, breaks thru the solid rock of Manhattan Island and distributes the precious water in abun- dance to every dwelling of New York City. The natural pressure lifts the water to the 12th story. It was neces- sary to bore the tunnel under the city thru solid rock to a depth of 300 to 800 fe-t. The cost of the great Ashokan Reservoir was S30.000,000. The cost of the whole, Catskill system, including Schohaiie and Kensico Reservoirs, was $177,000,000. The work on the Reservoir began 1903 and was completed 1915. The work on the Acqueduct began 1905 and was com- pleted 1917. The Ashokan Resovoir and the Cats- kill Acqueduct are heroic deeds of citi- zen's pride, of scientific genius and of sacrificing work. «HS.5