The next morning they went to Hawk’s Nest, where Drake pointed out to Walter the point in the river where he first saw the float with Amy and her mother on it. Then they visited the Callicoon, the former home of Walter and Amy. There was the old sugar maple tree where they had so often played, and where they first learned to love. There was the towering oak where Walter shot the panther. There was the tree where his cat Amy stood, and just over the ridge was where he found surveyor Webb. The reader can imagine the thoughts that passed through their minds as they sat under the tree, holding each other’s hands, living over again the days of their childhood. Walter, said Amy, there is one more place I wish to visit, and then I will be ready to go with you to England. I wish to go once more to my mother’s grave. Did we not pass near it on the way to Hawk’s Nest? Yes, but I did not wish to go there then. There is where I lost my best friend, and there is where I wish to give my hand to you—my heart you have always owned. I gave it to you under this tree. Let us go to the grave of my mother. There for the first time let me call you husband. Walter could not deny this request, although he had intended to defer the marriage until their arrival in London. The parties then returned to the Shinglekill, where preparations were made to celebrate the nuptials of Walter and Amy. The pastor of the little flock of worshipers that resided in the Valley, Johannes Casparus Fryenmout, was invited to officiate on the occasion, and bring with him his young wife that he had lately taken from the Van Etten family. His little church was built of logs, and was situated on the road leading from Carpenters Point (Tri-States,) to Kingston, on the west bank of the Machackamack (Neversink) River. (See Appendix.) He thought that the wedding should take place at his church, assigning as a reason, that “a grave yard was not in keeping with the occasion.” But Amy thought different, and insisted that the marriage should take place at her mother’s grave. It was a warm November day when they left Quick’s cabin to march to the cemetery that contained a single grave. The good pastor led the way, followed by the Quicks and other neighbors. Next came Tom and Jack, followed by the sailors and marines. Then came Amy and Cora, followed by Walter and Drake. As the head of the column reached the consecrated place the lines divided, and the heroes of our tale marched through and took their station at the head of the grave. The pastor took for his text the words that Cahoonshee had cut on the grave stone: “Here lies Mary, the mother of Amy.”