A CIDER PRESS ON SKATES.—Mr. C. W. Hasbrouck one day last week started on the river for a small skate. He pushed up the Hudson among the islands not stopping till he reached the residence of his brother. Mr. R. M. Hasbrouck of Schaghticoke, whose house is situated on the river bank some eight miles North of this village. Here he passed an hour or two very pleasantly, and after enjoying a good dinner started leisurely for home, which he reached in good season; not, however without meeting with a slight accident. When rounding the ice opposite Judson’s Coal Yard, under full headway, and in sight of Elizabeth street [116th Street] dock, he struck a snag in the shape of a pebble, and instantly some six feet four of Democratic timber fell like a column of the Parthenon; slowly regaining a sitting posture, he opened first one eye then the other, and the first object he saw was a stout Hibernian sawing ice, and exultingly pointing to the fallen hero, exclaimed “Ye’r sitting there aint ye?” Stung into action by this cruel jest, Mr. H., summoned his remaining strength and gained his normal posish, and yelling an indignant “No,” commenced an immediate inspection. Though somewhat bruised, no bones were broken. But alas! he had started from Schaghticoke with a cargo of choice Spitzenburgh apples in his capacious pockets, and that portion of them in the left pocket was ground to the finest kind of pumice, and the pockets of both coats deluged with the choicest cider. He accomplished the feat however, in admirable time and style. The apple in H’s pocket probably saved him from a dislocated hip and a long confinement. MORAL — When you go skating on a long voyage, be sure and lay in plenty of provisions.
Lansingburgh Gazette. [January or February?] 1866: col 1.
R.M. Hasbrouck appears on the above map as “R.M. Hasbronc”; the location was south of the intersection of River Road and Allen Road.