Person:Annetje Overbach (1)

"I have a faint recollection of the death of my grandmother, when I was two or three years old. When her husband was absent in the war between the English and the French and Indians in Canada and elsewhere, from 1754 to 1757, my father being then not more than a year old, an Indian named Rube, who lived near, and raised corn on the west side of the creek, on the flats opposite the Van Vechten farm, used to call at my grandmother's and leave his jug of whiskey there, to be called for when he wanted it. One evening, just as it was first dark, a knock called her to the door, and she asked, "Who is there ? " The reply was " Rube ; " and he said that he wanted his jug of whiskey. The voice did not sound like Rube's, and she hesitated as to unfastening the door. But, as he insisted that it was Rube after his whiskey, she partly opened the door, when she saw a large, strange negro there. They tried to close the door again, but he pushed it open with violence, and rushing into the house, took a seat by the fire. She was much frightened, and not a word was said, as she walked across the room several times. She conjectured what his object was in coming there, was looking around the room for a weapon of defense, and at last recollected that there was a clasp-knife in her pocket hanging on a chair. Just as she laid hold of it the negro sprang upon and seized her, when she screamed, and a large dog she had rushed in at the door, and seizing the negro by his throat, there was a severe struggle between them. The negro finally extricated himself and rushed out of the door, followed by the dog, who again laid hold of him. At last he got loose, and rushed down a ravine near the house, followed by the dog, urged on by the voice of his mistress. She then fastened the door, and taking my father, then an infant, in her arms, went to the second floor, drew up the ladder by which she had climbed there after her, and with the child in her lap and a cutlass in her hand, kept watch all night at the window. The negro prowled around a long time, as was evident by the furious barking of the dog, but finally, towards day, went away, and was never seen or heard of in that region again." Thus have we in this narrative another of the numerous hitherto unpublished and traditional sketches of what was done and suffered by the women of our American Revolution, and earlier than that, in their lonely and unprotected, and often forest homes, when their husbands were far away fighting for their liberties and rights."

External References

Catskill Archive, The Osterhout Narrative [1]

1. ↑ Dutch Reformed Church (Kingston, New York), and Roswell Randall Hoes (ed.). Baptismal and marriage registers of the Old Dutch Church of Kingston: Ulster County, New York (formerly named Wiltwyck and often familiarly called Esopus or 'Sopus), for One Hundred and Fifty Years from their commencement in 1660. (New York, 1891)
   baptism # 2786.
2. ↑ Walter D. Thomas. Osterhout Family
   # 101.
3. ↑ Birth date approximated from the baptismal record.