Rockland Lake is a large, freshwater lake located quite close to the Hudson River, just across the river from the city of Ossining. Throughout the 19th century, it was the primary source of natural ice for New York City. South of Newburgh, the Hudson River is brackish - as a tidal estuary it contains a mix of fresh and salt water in the lower part of the valley, making it unsuitable for ice harvesting. Rockland Lake, on the other hand, was fed by a spring and remained largely unpolluted. In 1831, the Knickerbocker Ice Company formed at Rockland Lake, where it remained in operation until the turn of the 20th century. (Learn more about ice harvesting on Rockland Lake)

A large steamboat landing was built on the Hudson River near Rockland Lake to accommodate the ice trade. The need for a lighthouse at Rockland Lake was first reported in October of 1899 by the New York Herald, which noted that "many of the new steamers are propellers of such draught as to make the shoal dangerous."

​On December 7, 1892, the Brooklyn Union Daily Standard reported that an appropriation of $35,000 was made "[f]or establishing a lighthouse and fog signal at or near Oyster Bed Shoal," off of the Rockland Lake dock. The brief noticed continued, "Steamers lay their course near there, making an important turning point, and it is said that the placing of this lighthouse at that point may have an effect in preventing wrecks there." 

A year later, the New York Herald reported that the Lighthouse Board had completed the plans for what would become the Rockland Lake Lighthouse, to be located "1,100 feet northeast of the northeasterly end of Rockland Lake landing." 

In July, 1894, the Rockland County Times reported on the construction of the new lighthouse. "The structure, when finished, will be a facsimile of the Tarrytown lighthouse, with the addition of several recent improvements." The article noted, "There is at present no lighthouse between those at Tarrytown and Stony Point, and boatmen traveling between those two points are now troubled at times to find their bearings. This will be obviated by the Rockland Lake lighthouse, which will afford them a safe guide on the darkest nights." 

Before it could be completed, however, it was struck by the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox, which had four barges in tow and destroyed the wooden construction dock "together with the workshop and other buildings connected to the works." According to the August 1, 1894 report from the New York World, the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox managed to carry "away on its bow part of one of the buildings and an Italian laborer who was sleeping in his bunk." An article from The Sun on the same incident named him as Guiseppe Luigi. Other workers dove into the water or clung to the iron lighthouse caisson to escape the wreck, which destroyed their living quarters. The lighthouse workers speculated that the captain of the Fox must have been asleep at the wheel. The Richard K. Fox appeared largely unharmed, though some reports indicate she "lost her pilot house," and continued on her way to New York City. The New York World article ends with this sentence, "Hudson River navigators think the lighthouse a menace to navigation." The Sun indicates, "It [the lighthouse, upon completion] will then prove dangerous in foggy or misty weather, boatmen say." 

By September 5, 1894, notice was given to mariners that the light would be lit "on or about October 1, 1894, a light of the fourth order, showing fixed white for 5 seconds, separated by eclipses of 5 seconds." The cast iron caisson was to be painted brown on the lower half, and white on the upper.

Like the lighthouses at Tarrytown and Jeffrey's Hook, the Rockland Lake lighthouse structure was pre-fabricated. 

By the 1910s, the Rockland Lake lighthouse had acquired a serious tilt. Most theories blame the oyster beds under the foundation. A the time, newspapers speculated that the shoals had washed out from under the lighthouse. Later historians speculate that the weight of the structure could have compacted the shoals, destabilizing them.

Righting the lighthouse was considered too expensive a project, so the clockwork mechanism which turned the light was simply adjusted to account for the angle of tilt. One can only imagine what it was like to live there as keeper.

By the 1920s, ice harvesting was also in decline, starting to be replaced by electric refrigeration. Perhaps this decline in traffic to the Knickerbocker Ice Company Landing played a role in the decision to decommission the lighthouse in 1923. That same year, a red-painted skeleton light was built adjacent to the lighthouse before that structure was demolished. A skeleton light still exists at that spot today. 

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

Editor's Note: This article was originally published on December 24, 1946 in The Knickerbocker News, Albany, NY. The tone of the article reflects the time period in which it was written.

“Artist’s Picture Keeps Nation Posted on Hudson’s Glories: Lighthouse at Athens, Painted in July, Makes Magazine Yule Cover” By Katherine A. Van Epps

Fame of the historic Upper Hudson reached a new high tide today when one of its picturesque landmarks – the lighthouse in mid-river between Athens and the City of Hudson – stepped from the commonplace to the cover of a national magazine.
The little lighthouse, since the 1870’s a silent, unsung beacon of safety for the men who ply the fabled waterway and a subject of conversation for generations of excursionists, makes the cover of the Christmas-week issue of Saturday Evening Post.

Sharing the national spotlight with the light are its lean, trim keeper, Boatswain’s Mate (lc) Edward Brunner of the U.S. Coast Guard and his family, who posed for the Christmas picture in July.

The lighthouse’s claim to fame was assured when Mead Schaeffer, Arlington, Vt., artist, spotted the landmark from the window of a New York Central train approaching Hudson.

Through the haze of July heat, Mr. Schaeffer’s artist’s eye saw the red brick lighthouse with spotless white trim as “something that should be under a Christmas tree” (to quote his own description). The idea of putting it on a holiday magazine cover came as he gathered his paints and easel for this unexpected stopover at Hudson.

Hurried Gathering of Family
The picture, the result of a hurried gathering of the Brunner family, their dog, a fir tree and Christmas packages, shows Mr. Brunner and his son, Norman, rowing toward the lighthouse while the family waits in various poses of welcome. The snow-covered ice floating in the river was produced by Mr. Schaeffer’s imagination.

When The Knickerbocker News rounded up Mr. Brunner on a day much like the one Mr. Shaeffer [sic] conjured up last July, with snow falling and ice floating in the black waters, it was found the artist’s imagination didn’t stop with the weather.

Mr. Schaeffer had added three children to the Brunner’s family of five and moved the landing stairway from the east to the north side of the lighthouse “to make a better picture.”

Mr. Brunner, slow-spoken with the easy humor of a riverman, said he “didn’t mind a bit about the children” but he wondered what the Coast Guard would say about changing the lighthouse.

The keeper, veteran of 21 years “on lights,” has been at the lighthouse which straddles the two main Hudson channels just below “The Flats” since 1930. Since his family moved off the river into Athens so the children can get to school, he has kept his 22-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week vigil alone.

As he goes about his work polishing the huge gas beacon or setting the deep-throated fog bell in motion, Mr. Brunner has memories of the days when the lighthouse rang with the laughter of children and the exciting night 14 years ago when his son, Robert, was born and the doctor had to be brought by boat from Hudson.

13 Years Since . . .
It was soon after Robert’s birth that the family moved ashore and now it’s 13 years since Mr. Brunner has been home for Christmas. His home life depends on nature, and by Christmas there’s too much ice in the river for his outboard motor to break through and not enough to support a man’s weight so he can walk home.

Older residents of Athens to whom the Hudson is both a source of livelihood and a neighbor tell countless stories about the little lighthouse, known as the Hudson City Light, in the lexicon of the rivermen.

To Miss Nellie McKnight, town historian and daughter of a steamboat captain, the lighthouse, rising sheer out of the river, is an old friend.

Story of Accident
It is Miss McKnight who tells the story of the “Classic Accident of the Hudson,” handed down through her family. The accident occurred during a snowstorm in 1845 when the Hudson City Light was an unattended beacon years before the lighthouse had been built.

The sturdy steamer Swallow, headed downstream, was nearing Athens when her captain mistook the lights of the town for the river beacon. He pulled right too soon to enter the channel on the Athens side of The Flats and the Swallow split in two on the rocks and burst into flames.

There were 46 persons counted dead when the rescuers arrived – one of the worst tragedies in the history of the Hudson.

To Mr. Brunner there’s nothing unusual about the lighthouse achieving nationwide fame.
​
“The Hudson is the most beautiful river in the world,” he will tell you, explaining he saw his share of other lands during foreign service in World War I, “Why shouldn’t it provide inspiration for artists?” he added." 

Looking for holiday gifts? Need to build up your reading list for colder weather? We're listing some of our favorite Hudson River history books plus some new releases to tide you over until spring.

All of the following links to go Amazon. Just click on the book image or title to purchase. If you'd like to give the museum some extra support, shop at smile.amazon.com and select the Hudson River Maritime Museum as your charity. We'll get a small percentage of your purchase. Some of these books are also available in our museum store, so stop by to purchase in person! And as always, we have a large selection of rare and out of print maritime books in the store, perfect for browsing. 

The Hudson: America's River by Frances F. Dunwell

​Fran Dunwell offers up a beautifully illustrated history of the Hudson River with this coffee table book. In particular, Dunwell frames the Hudson River and its importance in New York State and national history.

The Hudson: A History by Tom Lewis

This somewhat scholarly book nevertheless provides an excellent overview of the Hudson River, from First Contact through the twentieth century. 

The Hudson: An Illustrated Guide to the Living River by Stephen P. Stanne with  Roger G. Panetta, Brian E. Forist, and Maija Liisa Niemisto

The third edition of this classic book will be released in January, 2021, but you can pre-order before the holidays. Containing information about the Hudson's wildlife, flora, and environmental history, The Hudson: An Illustrated Guide to the Living River​ is essential reading for any Hudson River enthusiast.

The Hudson River Highlands by Frances F. Dunwell

This classic text has kept its relevance. The museum consulted it for our RiverWise journey through the Highlands just this year! With chapters on everything from geology to the American Revolution, Dunwell's book is an engaging and interesting read. 

Embattled River: The Hudson and Modern American Environmentalism by David Schuyler (2018, paperback 2020)

​Newly out in paperback, Embattled River tells the story of the Hudson River and its role in the formation of the environmental movement in America. The museum consulted this book as part of its Rescuing the River exhibit. 

Sadly, David Schuyler passed away suddenly in July, 2020. We are grateful for his work and he will be missed.

In the Shadow of Genius: The Brooklyn Bridge and Its Creators by Barbara G. Mensch (2018)

Part coffee table book, part history, Barbara G. Mensch combines decades of her photography with archival images of the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. Weaving together her personal experience of living in the shadow of the bridge with the lives of John and Emily Roebling, In the Shadow of Genius makes for fascinating reading - and looking.

Hudson River Lighthouses by the Hudson River Maritime Museum (2019)

Written by the Hudson River Maritime Museum, Hudson River Lighthouses chronicles all of the Hudson River's historic lighthouses, from Troy, NY to New York Harbor. Includes information about lost lighthouses and early manned navigational lights.

Also available for purchase in the Hudson River Maritime Museum store. All proceeds benefit HRMM.

The Last Pirate of New York: A Ghost Ship, a Killer, and the Birth of a Gangster Nation by Rich Cohen (2019)

An engrossing history of the life and times of Albert Hicks, infamously known as the "last pirate of New York," for his prosecution and execution for piracy in 1860. Rich Cohen links Hicks to the rise of gangsterism in New York City in the latter half of the 19th century. 

The Kidnapping Club: Wall Street, Slavery, and Resistance on the Eve of the Civil War by Jonathan Daniel Wells (2020)

Although gradual manumission was implemented in New York starting in 1799, the story of slavery in the state doesn't end there. In this new book, historian Jonathan Daniel Wells chronicles the  New York City officials who sought to circumvent antislavery laws from the 1830s to "the eve of the Civil War" and the small group of dedicated abolitionists who fought to stop them. 

Enterprising Waters: The History and Art of New York's Erie Canal by Brad L. Utter (2020)

The companion publication to the New York State Museum exhibition by the same name, Enterprising Waters chronicles the history of the Erie Canal in New York State. 

The Hudson Valley: The First 250 Million Years: A Mostly Chronological and Occasionally Personal History by David Levine (2020)
​
Journalist David Levine covers all 250 million years of Hudson Valley history (or thereabouts) in a series of short historical (and often humorous) essays, on topics from dinosaurs to the present. 

The Last Slave Ships: New York and the End of the Middle Passage by John Harris (2020)

Published on November 24, 2020, this brand new history chronicles the role of New York City - particularly lower Manhattan - in the illegal slave trade. Harris outlines how the U.S. government turned a blind eye and even aided enslavers in their efforts, despite the illegality of the importation of enslaved Africans at the time. 

The Christmas Tugboat: How the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree Came to New York City by George Matteson.
​ 
This delightful children's book tells the story of real-life tugboat captain George Matteson and his daughter as they make their way down the Hudson River with the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree in tow. 

River of Dreams: The Story of the Hudson River by Hudson Talbott. 

This beautifully illustrated children's book chronicles the history of the Hudson River from pre-contact Indigenous history all the way through the exciting 19th century, as told through the dreams of a boy named Hudson. 

Picturing America: Thomas Cole and the Birth of American Art by Hudson Talbott

In his follow-up to River of Dreams, Talbott chronicles the life of Thomas Cole and his relationship to the Catskills in this beautifully illustrated book about the birth of the Hudson River School of Art. 

There are a number of fascinating new history books being published in 2021, so keep your eyes peeled for another post with that list. In the meantime, Happy Holidays and happy reading!

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

Editor's Note: This account is from the December 1, 1878 St. Louis (Missouri) Globe-Democrat. The tone of the article reflects the time period in which it was written. 

A PAIR OF HEROINES. 
The Ladies Who Guard a Hudson River Lighthouse. 
Deeds That Would Honor Grace Darling or Ida Lewis. 
[From the New York Mercury.] 
‘‘If the world knows little of its heroes, it knows less of its heroines.’’ So declared an old Hudson River pilot, who had for thirty years felt his tortuous way, night after night, along that serpentine stream in the pilot-house of one or another steamboat. And when he looked in that far-off-way, with his eyes turned inward, the writer knew he was thinking of something interesting, and the Mercury reporter said to him: "Come, out with it, Uncle John; tell me what you have reference to.’’ "I mean,’’ said he, with an emphatic knock given with his iron knuckles upon the table, ‘‘that while some chance incident, or the presence of a newspaper reporter at an opportune moment, gave the world the benefit of an adventure of Ida Lewis — which turned out to be merely the escapade of a masculine and hoydenish woman after all — the meritorious efforts of 

TWO REAL HEROINES, 
modest, retiring, made without any idea that the reporters were around — and indeed they were not, for a wonder — are never spoken of." "Who are the two heroines?’’ Well, they live in a lighthouse not over 120 miles from New York, on the Hudson River, keep it themselves, and I tell you they’re like the ten wise virgins in Scripture — their lamp is always trimmed and burning, and on a foggy night when the light is not visible you can hear one of them a mile off blowing a fog horn herself; for the Government has been too mercenary to give them one of the automatic new-fangled kind —and as for saving lives I know they’ve done it many a time. But if you want to know more about them, just you go down to the Government Lighthouse Bureau at Tompkinsville, on Staten Island, and they will tell you all about the heroines of Saugerties Light." The writer, with such promise of good things, could not resist the temptation to go to the Lighthouse Department, and when the object of his visit was made known to Maj. Burke, the chief clerk in the Inspector’s office, the latter said he had no doubt that the old pilot’s statements were true. ‘‘In fact,’’ said he, "there is no one connected with the lighthouses of the government whose general characteristics, daring, bravery and invincibility to fear, but withal natural modesty, would be so apt to include heroic action as 

MISS KATE C. CROWLEY,
the mistress and keeper of Saugerties Lighthouse. While we have had no official report of her achievements, I have heard of them through other sources, and can say to you that she is capable of any daring deed involving danger or self-sacrifice; and it is the most natural thing in the world, as she is so modest that we should never receive official reports which could come only through her. As to the manner in which the lighthouse is kept, it is unexcelled by any other man or woman in the department. Accounts are always kept right, the light is always burning, and Miss Crowley is the very best kind of a keeper. Go and see her. She is a model watcher.’’ With such assurances the reporter could no nothing less than follow the advice, and he took the night boat for Catskill, which would reach Saugerties early in the morning. It was a bright, starlight night, and the writer sat in the pilot-house talking to the Steersman, who guided the steamer safely through the shadows of the frowning peak of the Highlands and answered questions or volunteered information between the rotations of the wheel. As we turned a bend in the river a light which looked like a star of the first magnitude twinkled and shown upon us far away in the distance. "That’s fifteen miles away," said the man at the wheel. ‘‘That’s Saugerties light. We'll lose it again a dozen times in the turns of the river. Do I know who keeps it? Well, no; not to speak to ’em, but know its two gals as has got grit enough, for I’ve seen ’em on the river many a time by daylight pulling away a great heavy row boat that no two river men would care to handle in one of them gales that comes sweepin’ down through the mountains like great flues in a big chimney. It ain’t like a tumultuous sea, hey? Well, that just shows how little you know about these North River storms. Why, when we get some of these hurricane blasts, they sweep down through these gaps from the north, and another current comes up from the south, and 

GOD, HELP ANY VESSEL
that gets caught in the maelstrom when they meet. Well, it was on one of those occasions I was comin’ up the river on the old Columbus after she’d got out carryin’ passengers and took to the towin’ business. Let me see — that was about five years ago. We'd got a little north of Rondout, and I was all alone at the wheel; I heard a rumblin’ behind me, and I looked around, and when I saw a big cloud with thunder heads rushing up from the south I knew we were going to catch a ripper. This was nothing, however, to the heavy clouds that came sweeping down from he north, in an opposite direction; and then I saw that the two storms would meet. I hollered down the trumpet to the engineer to slower the engine, and made up my mind to keep headway and stay in the river, as it would be unsafe to try and make a landing or get fastened to a dock. In a few minutes the two storms struck us. The boat cavorted like a frisky horse, and in the foaming water plunged and reared, and shook in every timber, as if it had the ague. We were then pretty nearly abreast of Tivoli, and Saugerties’ Lighthouse was only about two miles ahead. A sloop loaded with blue-stone, which had just emerged from the mouth of Esopus Creek and was standing down the river, went over when the squall struck her as suddenly as if a great machine under the water had upset her; and soon I saw two men struggling in the water. Hardly a minute elapsed before 

TWO FEMALE FORMS
were fluttering around the small boat by the lighthouse. In another minute it was launched and it bobbed up and down in the seething, foaming waters. The two girls, bareheaded, with a pair of oars apiece, began pulling towards the men in the water. The waves ran so high, the gale blew so madly, the thunder roared so incessantly and the lightning flashed in such blinding sheets, that it seemed impossible for the women ever to reach the men, to keep headway, or to keep from being swamped. But they never missed the opportunity of a rising billow to give them leverage, and they managed by steady pulling to get ahead until they reached the men in the water. The great danger was that the tossing boat would strike the sailors and end their career, but one of the gals leaned forward over the bow of the boat, braced her feet beneath the seat on which she had been sitting, stiffened herself out for a great effort, and as her sister kept the bow of the craft crosswise to the waves, caught one of the men beneath the arm as he struck out on top of a billow, lifted and threw him by main force into the middle of the boat, and then 

PREPARED FOR THE OTHER MAN.
He had got hold of the sloop’s rudder, which had got unshipped and was floating on the water. He let go and swam toward the rowboat, and was hauled in also by the woman and his half-drowned comrade. I tell you,’’ said the pilot, ‘‘those gals are bricks, and no mistake. You couldn’t have got any river boatmen to do what they did.’’ It was just 4 o’ clock when the steamboat landed at the little insular dock which is called Saugerties, but which ought to be called Gideonstown, for there is only one house in it, and that is inhabited by a most estimable family by that name. The sight from the lighthouse, however, full a mile away, shone down upon it like the eye of a great ogre, illuminating the surrounding country, and enabling the writer to take observations. These, however, were more certain in the light of dawn which soon followed. From Mr. Gideon it was learned that the village of Saugerties was two miles away, and that there were many old residents in that place, where the parents of Miss Crowley formerly resided, and along the river front, who were familiar with the exploits of the young ladies. "Do I know them?’’ was his interrogative answer to the reporter’s question. "I should like to know who doesn’t know them hereabouts. They are always in their boat, and the people hereabouts have come to think that they 

REALLY BELONG TO THE WATER 
more than they do to the land, for the only time they are visible is when they are rowing to Saugerties or other places to get provisions for their household. They do that every day, rain or shine.’’ "Do they mind rain?’’ "Not at all, they make visits every day Saugerties or thereabouts. As for rowing, no boatman on the river can equal them. They feather their oars and make regular strokes independent of wind or tide." A trip to the village of Saugerties after much inquiry, led the reporter to a person who had been familiar with the lighthouse and its surroundings for many years. He is an old boatman and fisherman. He catches shad at the season of the year that they abound, and goes out duck shooting in the fall and early winter. He is acquainted with the history of all the inhabitants, and knows all about the occupants of the lighthouse since it was first built. 

THE TALE OF A LIGHTHOUSE. 
He said: ‘‘It is now twenty years since Mr. Crowley was appointed lighthouse keeper. The old light stood on a piece of masonry which was built midway in the river, upon a morass several feet above the surface of the water at high tide, but in a very unsubstantial way. When the early spring freshets brought down the ice, it was feared several times the lighthouse would be carried away, and the necessity of a new foundation and a new lighthouse soon became apparent. The old place, however, was newly supported, and about fifteen years ago he brought over his family from Saugerties to live in the building. His daughter Kate, a little girl then, from first seemed to be amphibious, and she would go out in a little skiff from the lighthouse alone, seeming to take such risks that every one prophesied that she would surely be drowned. Many a time her little craft upset, but

SHE SWAM LIKE A DUCK,
and always succeeded in reaching the lighthouse in safety. Her sister Ellen during these early years lived at her relatives in Saugerties, and did not join her sister until the new lighthouse was built. That was about nine years ago. Then Kate was fifteen years of age and Ellen about seventeen: In that year, Ellen was leaving Saugerties in a boat with her mother, and she saw a boy in swimming, but who had got beyond his depth, struggling for aid. She endeavored to reach him and her mother attempted to assist her, but, the latter being a woman weighing over 200 pounds, upset the boat, and the girl was thrown into the water in such a way that she came under the boat, which had capsized. Her mother was speedily rescued, but the daughter could not release herself from the peculiar position in which she was placed for several minutes and when rescued was found to have taken a considerable amount of water into her lungs. This seriously affected her health for some time afterwards. She has suffered more or less from that immersion, and malarial fever from that time to the present moment, and though she and her sister are said to take care of the lighthouse, and are always together in an emergency, the latter of late years has taken the responsibility of the place herself and runs the whole affair. Do I know of any case where these girls have saved life? Indeed I do. Three years ago last winter, 

A YOUNG MAN AND A LADY
attempted to cross the ice to Tivoli. They had got about 100 yards from the lighthouse when the ice broke and they were precipitated into the water. Kate had rigged her boat with runners, so that, in her regular trips to main land, she was able in winter weather to make her way over the ice, or the latter gave way, through the water. She appears to be always on the lookout, and saw what had occurred, and in an incredible short space of time jumped upon the ice, pulling her boat after her, while her sister pushed it from the stern. They arrived at the scene of danger speedily and rescued the young man, but his companion bad disappeared. Kate saw a fragment of her dress floating on the water, and knew that she was under a cake of ice. It took but a moment for Kate to rush forward, throw herself into the opening and withdraw the woman from her perilous position. The latter was limp and senseless, and it took several minutes to restore her to consciousness. Meanwhile the ice was breaking up all around the boat, the young man was precipitated into the water, and it required the 

UNITED EFFORTS OF THE TWO SISTERS 
to recover him also and place him in the boat. During this time gorges of ice had broken up above, and had carried all of them far below, and it was by the utmost efforts of the sisters that they succeeded in reaching a point two miles below the lighthouse. It is only about two-years since a steamer ran into a sloop nearly abreast of the lighthouse, cutting the latter in two and throwing all on board into the water. The sisters immediately launched their boat and put off to the assistance of the men in the water. Two of the sailors could swim, and in a few moments succeeded in reaching the bar, but two others were struggling for life. One of them had gone down twice and was rescued as he rose the third time. A fourth one was hanging to a piece of the wreck, when he was 

TAKEN INTO THE HEROINES’ BOAT. 
"These circumstances,’’ declared our informant, "have come under my personal observation, but there are many other cases well substantiated, in which these girls have saved life, but the particulars of which I am not informed.’’ 

AT THE LIGHTHOUSE. 
The writer, returning to the long dock, was conveyed to the lighthouse in a row-boat by Mr. Gideon. The place consists of a frame house and an adjoining lighthouse, erected upon a stone foundation built upon the flats. There are no grounds around the house, and consequently no opportunity for raising anything. Stone steps extend in the south side of the masonry to the water, and up these the writer ascended. Several raps at the front door failed to meet with any response, and the reporter walked around the narrow stonework to a side door. A single knock at this brought to the door a young lady, who was evidently surprised at the presence of the visitor. The latter asked for Miss Kate Crowley. The young lady replied that she was the person asked for, and invited the visitor into the front room, which was used as a parlor, and was plainly but neatly furnished. It hardly seemed possible that the modest appearing, 

FAIR-HAIRED, BLUE-EYED YOUNG LADY 
could be the heroine spoken of, but there seemed to be no question of doubt, and the reporter suggested that as he had ascertained she had been instrumental in saving life, he should pleased to get the particulars from her lips. She seemed exceedingly loth to say anything about herself, especially in the way of exploits, and when the reporter mentioned the instances spoken of above, she turned them off as of no account, or not worth elaboration. Considerable of her history was gleaned independent of her life-saving exertions. She said that when she was a little girl her father took the old lighthouse, and she had such a fondness for the water that she used to be on it all the time in a little skiff. She liked also to take charge of the light, see that the oil was in good condition, and attend to all lighthouse matters, so that her father by the time she was fifteen years of age had come to depend entirely upon for the care of the lighthouse. About nine years ago, when the new lighthouse was built -  work which she had watched at every stage of its progress with a great deal of interest - her

FATHER SUDDENLY BECAME BLIND
from cataract of the eyes. Her mother was unable to take charge of the lighthouse, and since that time she been compelled to assume the whole management herself with some assistance from her sister, who has always been in poor health. They row daily to the neighboring village to get their provisions and receive $560 a year as their remuneration. They have to find everything except oil and necessaries for keeping the lamp in order. They have some very severe storms sometimes, and in the spring the ice comes down and threatens their little house; but she is never afraid, and thinks it a pleasure when any one is in danger to do what she and her sister can to relieve them. During the conversation her sister came into the room. Never were two sisters more unlike. 

ELLEN IS A BRUNETTE,
tall, slim, with dark eyes and dark hair. When Kate is animated she is exceedingly pretty. She displays a row of milk-white teeth and shows dimpled checks, and looks at you with a pair of large eyes full in the face. She introduced her sister to the reporter, explaining his visit. The new-comer was quite as indisposed to seek notoriety as the other, and said: ‘‘We are simply two girls trying to do our duty here in this quiet place, taking care as we best can of our blind father aged mother. We are always on the lookout for vessels that may get out of their course and are sure to have our lamp in good order. We have not the opportunity of making ourselves heroines as we have learned another woman, Ida Lewis, has, but we do what we can in our feeble way.’’ The writer insinuated that their romantic spot would be apt to induce visitors to call upon, them, but they declared that theirs was a most solitary life. The inhabitants of Saugerties had come to regard the lighthouse as an old institution, possessing no interest whatever; there was nothing to attract visitors but their plain house, which was certainly unattractive, and the only time they saw any one was when they made their visits to the mainland for provisions. They had an idea, too, that the locality was unhealthy. Every summer for the past nine years they had 
​
SUFFERED FROM MALARIAL FEVER, 
arising from the surrounding lowlands, and only a few months ago they had buried a beloved brother. The only pleasure they had in life was to row in the river, keep the lighthouse in good trim, and do the best they could for any one in trouble on the river. They introduced the reporter to their aged parents, who understood only dimly and vaguely (after repeated efforts on the part of their children to make them comprehend what the object of his visit was), and at parting, the heroic sisters asked that they might not be given too much publicity. The writer promised that he would not say anything concerning them which they did not merit, and, as he was told still more of their humane efforts after he had left their island home, he feels that he has not violated his promise.

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