The Historiography of the Tempe Wick Horse Story

By Eric Olsen, National Park Service

This post is a companion to "An Almost Complete History of the Tempe Wick Horse Story," published in The Review, Fall 2025. This article provides the complete historiography of the story of Tempe Wick and her horse.

1845: “Washington’s Headquarters, Morristown, N.J.,” Sears New Monthly Magazine by Benson Lossing. This is the first article that deals explicitly with Morristown during the American Revolution. Lossing’s articles never mention the Tempe Wick horse story.

1846: Historical Collections of the State of New Jersey by John Barber & Henry Howe, New York, 1846.  Some odd stories, but no Tempe Wick horse story.

1850: “Revolutionary Fragments” by Rev. Joseph Tuttle, Morris County, NJ. Originally published in the Newark Daily Advertiser in 1850 and republished in The Jerseyman, Morristown, NJ, 1896. This is the first Morris County history I found written by Rev. Tuttle. He wrote 19 different “fragments,” but none mentions Tempe and the horse story.

1851 – 1852: The Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution, Or Illustrations, By Pen and Pencil, of the History, Biography, Scenery, Relics, And Traditions of the War for Independence by Benson J. Lossing, Harper & Brothers, 1860. The Field Book was published later; the above date is around when Lossing visited Morristown and collected his stories. Benson Lossing, along with Rev. Tuttle, was the first writer to cover the Revolutionary War in Morris County and Morristown. Both men visited the sites they wrote about and talked to old survivors from the war or their descendants. Lossing provides several interesting stories that we question, but he never writes about Tempe and the horse.

1859: “Washington at Morristown During the Winters of 1776-77 & 1779-80” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, February 1859, No. CV, Vol. XVIII. There is no author listed for this article. The illustrations match what is in Lossing’s Field Book, but in a footnote in a June 1871 article in the Historical Magazine, Rev. Tuttle says he wrote the article for Harper's Magazine based on notes from a 1854 lecture. Tuttle does not mention the Tempe and the horse story in this article.

Engraving - Image 167 of Stories of New Jersey, | Library of Congress.

1871 - June: “Washington in Morris-County, New Jersey” by Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, The Historical Magazine, June 1871, Vol. IX Second Series, No. 6, pg. 369. This is the first time the Tempe Horse story appears in print. Tuttle wrote articles in 1850, 1859, and 1869 and failed to bring up the Tempe story in any of these articles. This Tuttle’s is his version of the story:

“On the North side of the parlor [Large SW room], is a door leading into the spare bed-room, with which is connected an amusing incident. Great difficulty was experienced, in the Spring of 1780, in procuring teams to remove the army stores, and horses for Cavalry. Mr. Wicke’s daughter, Tempe, owned a beautiful young horse, which she frequently rode, and always with skill. She was an admirable and a bold rider. One day, as the preparations for removing the Army were progressing, Miss Wicke rode her favorite horse to the house of her brother-in-law, M. Leddel, on the road to Mendham; and, on her return, was accosted by some soldiers, who commanded her to dismount and let them take the horse. One of them had seized the bridle-reins. Perfectly self-possessed, she appeared to submit to her fate, but not without a vain entreaty not to take her favorite from her. She then told them she was sorry to part with the animal, but as she must, she would ask two favors of them, the one was to return him to her, if possible; and the other was, whether they returned him or not, to treat him well. The soldiers were completely thrown off their guard, and reins were released, they supposing she was about to dismount, than which nothing was farther from her intentions, for no sooner was the man’s hand loose from the bridle than she touched her spirited horse with the whip, and he sped from among them like an arrow. As she was riding away, at full speed, they fired after her, but probably without intending to hit her; at any rate, she was unharmed. She urged her horse up the hill, at his highest speed, and coming round to the kitchen-door, on the North side of the house, she sprang off and led him into the kitchen, thence into the parlor, and thence into the spare bed-room which had but one window, and that on the west side. This was secured with a shutter. The soldiers, shortly after, came up, searched the barn and the woods in vain. Miss Wicke saved her horse, by keeping him in that bedroom, three weeks, until the last troop was fairly off. The incident, which is authentic, shows the adroitness and courage of the young lady, who afterwards, became the wife of William Tuttle, an officer in the Jersey Brigade during the entire War.”  

Rev. Tuttle repeats the same story in Annals of Morris County, 1876.

1871 – August: “The Old Wick Farm at Morristown,” from The Morris Banner. This version was recently discovered by Tom & Cythia Winslow. I added some notes to clear up some of the historical inaccuracies. See my footnotes at the end.

The property known as the Wick Farm, by which name it is enshrined in history as the camping ground of the Revolutionary army under Washington during the winter of 1778 [1], is situate about four miles from this place, on what is known as the Jockey Hollow Road to Mendham.  It has just, and for the first time in 130 years, been sold, being purchased by Mr. Mason Loomis, of Montclair, acting, it is understood, for Mr. Littlejohn, President of the Midland Railroad, for the sum of $52,000.  The track, which, combined with the Kimball property adjoining, covers 660 acres of ground, lies exactly in the route of the proposed branch line of the Midland Railroad, to run from Morristown to Mendham, and has been purchased, it is believed, by the directors of the Railroad Company to layout the tract in building sites, and eventually form a large settlement thereon [2].

The Wick farm proper, contains 500 acres [3], which were purchased from the Lord’s Proprietors about 1740 [4] by Henry Wick, an English immigrant [5], who at once settled upon it.  About the same time 100 acres [6]adjoining were purchased by Peter Kimball [7], a fellow Englishman. When the army under Washington was at Morristown, a large portion were encamped on the Wick Farm, and to this day the remains of the stone huts, chimneys and barricades are plainly discernible. Here the army suffered incredible agonies of cold and hunger, the snow from thence to Morristown being in many places stained with the blood from the frosted and wounded feet of the soldiers [8]. To keep at all warm the forests of the Wick, Kemble and adjoining tracks were stripped of their woods, and it was not till some years afterwards that Congress renumerated the owners of the lands, by paying sixpence per cord for all so burnt up.  At the present time the trees have regrown, and where the land has not been kept in cultivation fine forests are standing, the wood of which it is intended to use for the timbers, ties, &c., of the new railroad.

On the Wick property yet stands the old mansion house, an unpretending but very strong building of stone quarried from the neighboring hills [9].  Up to within a few years ago, could have been seen in the old house, in a room in the upper story, the marks of a horse's feet, about which history tells us the following story:  A fair daughter of the house while out riding on horseback one day, while yet the army was in the neighborhood of Morristown, was stopped by some soldiers, who showed an order from General Washington, ordering them to take possession of all horses fit for service, and demanding hers. She pretending to acquiesce asked permission to ride home, the soldiers walking by her side, and where on her arrival they could take her horse. To this they agreed, but while their hands were off her bridle rein the lady put whip to her horse and dashed homewards.  The soldiers traced her to the house, by the marks of her horse, but in all the sheds and barns could find nothing of the stolen steed. Chagrined they reported their non success at the camp, when presently the young lady herself appeared and obtaining an interview with General Washington pleaded that she might be allowed to keep her pet. Washington gave the privileges and a pass for the horse, which magic piece of paper is said to be yet in the hands of the descendants of the lady [10].  On inquiry it was found that upon reaching home after her escape, she led the horse up the broad hall staircase [11]to her own chamber, where he was stabled that night, and where the marks of his shoes upon the floor remained for many years.

In 1835 the Kemble property was purchased and added to the Wick farm, which passed through her mother, Mrs. Tuttle, who was a daughter of Miss Temperance Wick, the child of old Henry Wick, to the late owner, Mrs. Blatchley, and by whom the sale had just been made. The Kembles also owned other property, being what is known as Hoyt’s Corners, and sold to a gentleman named Hoyt, the present owner. Before the old mansion house of that property was the family burying ground, a little square patch fenced with a high wall. This being an eye sore it was removed by its new purchasers, much to the dissatisfaction of the Kemble descendants and trouble promised to ensue. At length a compromise was made, and to-day a wall of trees surround the little burying ground of the Kembles, while on the sod a large flat stone bears inscriptions as to who lie buried there [12].

Historian’s Notes

1.     The first winter camp at Jockey Hollow was 1779-1780, not 1778.

2.     Records indicate that Mason Loomis bought the property from Mary C. Blachly on July 1, 1871. The New Jersey Midland Railroad was established in 1870 through the consolidation of several existing railroads. They never built this proposed line. The closest railroad line that ran from Morristown to Mendham was the Rockaway Valley Railroad, also known as the Rockabye Railroad. It was constructed between 1888 and 1892. Its tracks ran just north of Lewis Morris County Park. The Patriots Path hiking trail uses some of its old rail bed.

3.     The 500 acres were a portion of the original property. When Mary Wick died in 1786, she divided the property between her three daughters and one granddaughter.

4.     The property was originally bought by Francis Rawle of Burlington, N.J., in 1715, from the Proprietors of West Jersey. Henry Wick and his father-in-law, Nathaniel Cooper, bought the land from the Rawle family in 1746. Cooper sold his portion of the land to Henry Wick in 1748.

5.     Henry Wick was not from England. He moved to Jockey Hollow from the Hamptons on the eastern end of Long Island.

6.     Peter Kemble owned 800 acres in Jockey Hollow. He also had a house and property in New Brunswick, N.J.

7.     It’s Peter Kemble, not Kimble. Later in the article, the author switches to Kemble. Peter was born in present-day Turkey. His father was an Englishman, and his mother was Greek. Kemble was educated in England and worked as a merchant.  

8.     "Bloody footprints in the snow" was a popular nineteenth-century story. During the American Revolution, soldiers who did not have shoes did not march. It would ruin the men’s health.

9.     Henry Wick's original home was standing at the time this article was written, but it was made of wood, not stone. It sounds like the author is thinking of the Leddel House, which is on Tempe Wick Road west of the Wick House. The current Leddel House is made of stone, but I have heard this may not be the original house. The current stone house is said to have been built in the early nineteenth century.

10.  These stories always claim that some original letter or object proves the story, but these things somehow never survive to the present day. The stories always seem to have a small grain of truth. The Continental Army in Jockey Hollow was short of horses in the Spring of 1780 and looking to get more. However, there is no record of Temperance Wick visiting General Washington or getting a pass from him to protect her horse.

11.  The current Wick House does not have a broad hallway with stairs leading up to Tempe’s Bedroom. It has a small, narrow entrance hall that probably could not accommodate a horse. The current restored stairs are so steep and narrow that it is hard for a human to walk up. It would be far worse for a horse. At the time, Temperance probably slept on the first floor and not upstairs. Again, I think this author is thinking of the Leddell house.

12.  I don’t know the history of the land transactions on the Kemble property, but the name Hoyt’s Corners does sound familiar. There still is a gravestone on the Kemble property for Peter Kemble and a couple of other family members. The stone is so worn that it is very hard to read.

1873: “Washington’s Headquarters at Morristown” by May B. Dodge, Hearth and Home Magazine, November 29, 1873. The article focused on the Ford Mansion, nothing on Jockey Hollow.

1874: “Historic Houses of America. Washington’s Headquarters at Morristown,” by Benson Lossing, Appletons’ Journal, New York, August 1, 1874, No. 280, Vol. XII. The article focuses on the Ford Mansion and says nothing about Jockey Hollow. In all his articles and books from 1845, 1851, and 1874, Lossing never mentions the Tempe Wick Horse story.

1875: “The Historic Edifices of Morristown, New Jersey”, Potters American Monthly Illustrated Magazine, John E. Potter & Co., Philadelphia, September 1875, Vol. V.  There is no author listed and no mention of Tempe Wick Horse Story

1876: Annals of Morris County, 1876. Rev. Tuttle repeats the exact same horse story that he wrote in 1872.

1882: History of Morris County, New Jersey, W.W. Munsell & Co., New York, 1882. Repeats Rev. Tuttle’s version of the Tempe and her horse:“The incident, which is authentic, shows the adroitness and courage of the young lady…”

1889: The Story of an Old Farm by Andrew D. Mellick, Jr., The Unionist-Gazette, Somerville, N.J. 1889.  Mellick repeats the Tuttle version of the story in his own words, but it is the same story.

1894: “Topography of Washington’s Camp of 1780 and its Neighborhood.” A paper read by Emory McClintock, LL.D. Before the Washington Association of New Jersey at its meeting on February 22, 1894. While McClintock mentions the Wicks and Tempe, he does not mention the horse story.

Frank R. Stockton from Wikimedia Commons.

1896: Stories of New Jersey by Frank R. Stockton, American Book Company, 1896. Frank Stockton [above] was a noted writer of short stories. “The Lady or the Tiger” is his most famous work. He enhanced the Tuttle horse story to eight pages and added illustrations [below]. Here is a sample of his prose.

“The tradition is, that he [horse] staid there [guest bedroom on first floor] three weeks. There Tempe waited on him as if he had been a visitor of high degree; and if she was afraid to go to the barn to bring him hay and oats, she doubtless gave him biscuit and soft bread, dainties of which a horse is very fond, especially when they are brought to him by such a kind mistress as Tempe.”

Engraving of Tempe Wick riding a horse, Image 165 of Stories of New Jersey, | Library of Congress.

1896: Stories of New Jersey by Frank R. Stockton, American Book Company, 1896. Frank Stockton [above right] was a noted writer of short stories. “The Lady or the Tiger” is his most famous work. He enhanced the Tuttle horse story to eight pages and added illustrations [above left]. Here is a sample of his prose.

“The tradition is, that he [horse] staid there [guest bedroom on first floor] three weeks. There Tempe waited on him as if he had been a visitor of high degree; and if she was afraid to go to the barn to bring him hay and oats, she doubtless gave him biscuit and soft bread, dainties of which a horse is very fond, especially when they are brought to him by such a kind mistress as Tempe.”

1896: “Extracts from the Letter-books of Lieutenant Enos Reeves, of the Pennsylvania Line,” Contributed by John B. Reeves, Charleston, South Carolina, Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Volumes 20 & 21, 1896. The publication of the letters of Lieutenant Enos Reeves [portrait below], which describe the 1781 Pennsylvania Line Mutiny, changed the course of the Tempe Wick Horse Legend. Reeves mentioned the Wick family and Temperance several times in his letters. He also mentioned mutineers looking for horses.  But he never said anything about Tempe hiding a horse in the house. Andrew Sherman and other local historians probably read Reeves’ letters, causing them to switch the horse story to the mutiny.

Portrait of Enos Reeves - Attributed to James Earl, American, 1761–1796, Portrait of Captain Enos Reeves, early 1790s, Oil on canvas. Gift of James F. and Louise H. Bell  55.19, Life at the Edge of Empire: –– Minneapolis Institute of Art.

Below I have included all of Reeves’ references to the Wick family. I have highlighted the important parts and underlined when the Wick family is mentioned. But note, Reeves never said anything about the Wicks losing any horses or hiding a horse in their house.

November 30, 1780 – “Wicks’ Farm…On the 28^th…The regiment halted in a wood near Morristown, when I rode on to Mr. Wicks’, where I supped and spent the evening with his very agreeable [pleasant] daughter. The party that marched under Colonel Craig to begin to build or repair our huts fixed on the old huts of Gen. Hand’s brigade, near Mr. Wicks’ house for our station this Winter, and extended the line towards Mr. Kemble’s, till near the left where two regiments turn the flank into the huts, formerly the First Connecticut Brigade. The logs of the old huts of the Maryland Brigade being very convenient I hope we shall be able to get our men under cover in a very short time.

The division arrived in the afternoon of the 29^th and pitched tents in a wood near Dr. Liddel’s house. I had the pleasure of finding that agreeable family in perfect health, but a little mortified at the army coming to Winter so near them. We last winter destroyed six hundred acres of woodland for him and his step-father [father-in-law] and suppose this Winter will clear the plantation of every tree.”

December 28, 1780 – “Mount Kemble. On the 17^th inst. I assisted the brigade and other Quarter Masters to lay out in lots the remaining woodland belonging to Mr. Wicks, to be cut and corded by one hundred and fifty of the Draft whose tie expires on the 15^th. When they have cut fifteen cords each, which is about twenty two hundred cord, they will get their discharge…

P.S. Mr. Wicks who has been sick for several days past, died and was buried yesterday.”

December 29, 1780 - “and on Christmas Day all the officers of the Brigade dined with the Field officers, we had an elegant entertainment and kept up the frolick till late and got half tipsy. From what I have said of frolicks and entertainments among ourselves, don’t fancy that all our time is taken up in this manner and the ladies neglected. No! Heaven forbid! If that was the case we should be monsters indeed. I generally spend the following afternoon with the fair sex, some of our agreeable neighbors Miss Wicks, Miss Liddle or both; their company and a dish of tea and pleasant chat.”

January 2, 1781 – “This day Col. Stewart and Richard Butler joined Gen. Wayne in hopes they could turn them when they grew cooler, being much agitated with liquor, when they went off, it being New Years day they had drawn half a pint per man. The men have continued going off in small parties all day….The men went off very civily last night to what might have been expected from such a mob. They did not attempt to plunder our officers’ huts or insult them in the least, except those who were obstinate in opposing them. They did not attempt to take with them any part of the State stores, which appears to me a little extraordinary, for men when they get but little want more.”

January 4, 1781 – “The greater part of the Officers left the night of the 3^rd, and the others followed on the fourth. Since this affair Mrs. Wicks and Dr. Liddel’s very agreeable families have been kept in continual alarm.” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 6, 1781 letter from Dr. Liddel’s Mendem

January 5, 1781 - “On the 5 inst. As I was obliged to be in camp once every day, I concluded it would be best to move in and stay there, and in consequence of that resolution moved my baggage, and when it had come as far as Dr. Liddel’s he very kindly offered me the use of his house to live with his family. I accepted the generous offer with pleasure. Drank tea and spent the afternoon with the agreeable young ladies.

About ten o’clock I walked in to camp to see if all was quiet, and when I came on the parade, I found a number of men assembled, and when I reached our regiment, a signal gun was fired on the right of the Division, and in a short time a large party collected and endeavoured to take off the two remaining pieces of artillery. Not finding it convenient they went off about twelve o’clock and left them with us. This party in going off behaved with less noise and more impertinence than the first. They fired on two or three officers as they were going out of camp.” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 6, 1781, letter from Dr. Liddel’s Mendem

January 6, 1781 – “The revolted party marched from Vealtown to Middlebrook, and the 3^rd went on to Princetown. In the evening an Express arrived from Gen. Wayne, ordering all officers of the Division (a quartermaster and subaltern from each regiment excepted), to press horses and make all possible speed to Pennington. (Ensign Brooke was left behind and I as Quartermaster, of course) The greater part of the Officers left the night of the 3^rd, and the others followed on the fourth. Since this affair Mrs. Wicks and Dr. Liddel’s very agreeable families have been kept in continual alarm…About one o’clock I returned from camp to the Doctor’s, where I found the family up, with the addition of Mrs. Wicks and her agreeable daughter, almost frightened out of their lives, as some of the mutineers made their appearance around their house and insisted on their showing them where to find horse.

Everything is still again today and the young ladies not much the worse for their fright.” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 6, 1781 letter from Dr. Liddel’s Mendham

January 14, 1781 - “I have spent my time very agreeably in this very pleasant family in the constant company of the ever amiable and very agreeable Miss Betsy Liddel, and very often with the additional happiness of Miss Wicks’ company, and sometimes with Col. Spencer’s lovely family, which has caused long and perhaps tedious evenings to pass away unnoticed. Capt. William Gray [Gray surveyed and drew a map of the Wick property] being here at this time, when the ladies did not interfere, with the Doctor and myself would ply the apple-toddy and amuse ourselves with nuts. Thus I have striven to beguile care, for you must know this revolt has given me many uneasy hours.” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 14, 1781, letter from Dr. Liddel’s Mendham

January 17, 1781 – “…You must know that the mutineers stole my horse and I now have a borrowed one…” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 17, 1781, letter from Dr. Liddel’s Mendham

January 23, 1781 –“Lieut. Feltman and Ensign Brooks being impatient left for Pennington. The 21^st had the baggage loaded and sent off; settled and gave certificates for forage &c. for the use of the regiment. Returned to Dr. Liddel’s, where I dined with Miss Wicks and the doctor’s family…” Lieutenant Enos Reeves, 10th PA Regt. from January 23, 1781, letter from Pennington, N.J.

The passages about rioting soldiers, soldiers looking for horses and Lt. Reeves horse being stolen would seem to support the Tempe Wick Horse Story and which is why Sherman probably switched the story from the Spring of 1780 to the mutiny. However, in my mind, if Tempe hid the horse in the house, she would have mentioned it to Lt. Reeves. After all they are meeting on friendly terms and she has no reason to hide the story from him. If Lt. Reeves heard such an interesting story he would have included, it in his letters. But since he makes no mention of Tempe hiding her horse, I don’t think Reeves’s letters support the legend.

1902-1905: “A Branch of the Woodruff Stock, No. 111,” by Francis E. Woodruff. Andrew Sherman cites this book as his source for the story of Tempe and the Mutiny. I couldn’t find any mention of the Wicks in the versions I saw online.

1904-1905: “History of Morristown, N.J. The Story of its First Century,” a series of articles in the Saturday issues of The Newark Evening News. Apparently, Sherman wrote a series of articles about Morristown history before he wrote his 1905 book. He mentions in his book that he told the Tempe stories in the articles before he wrote the book. I haven’t been able to find the newspaper.

Illustration - A Horse in the Bed Room - The Legend of Tempe WickA Horse in the Bed Room - The Legend of Tempe Wick.

1905: Historic Morristown, New Jersey, by Andrew M. Sherman, pages 351-354 and 379-382. Sherman included the old Tuttle version of the story. He claimed he talked to people who saw the hoofprints in the floor, but can’t be seen in 1905 because the floor was later replaced.

Version One

Sherman gives the Tuttle version which he calls “The well authenticated incident about to be related (the popular version is here given)…Tempe’s favorite horse was kept for three weeks in the spare bed chamber…The prints of the horse’s hoofs upon the floor of the bed chamber in the Wick House were visible for many years after the occurrence of the incident related. They disappeared when, a few years since, a new floor was laid in the room.

The writer has conversed with several persons, each of whom “with my own eyes” saw hoof prints of Tempe Wick’s favorite saddle horse in the spare bed chamber.”

Version Two

Andrew Sherman significantly shifted the story and introduced the Mutineers as the new bad guys. This version has remained the most popular to the present day. See my footnotes at the end of version two.

On page 379 Sherman writes, “Consideration for fondly cherished local tradition, on the part of the present writer, is responsible for the version of the Tempe Wicke [1] episode previously given in these pages. There is, however, another version which seems to be more in accord with reason, and which is not without a good basis in extant documentary evidence [2]; this version of the episode is as follows: During the mutiny of the Pennsylvania troops down the Jockey Hollow road, which, as our readers have seen, occurred on the opening day of the year 1781, the mutineers had in some way found access to a liberal supply of alcoholic drinks; [3] whether rum or applejack, the writer is unable to say. Judging from the evidence furnished by fragmentary records of the mutiny, there was, to employ a modern phrase, “a hot time,” in the vicinity of the Wicke house, on the first of January, in the year 1781. The intoxication, and consequent rioting, were continued for several days after the departure of the main body of General Wayne’s troops for Princeton, by detachments of soldiers left behind to guard the camp equipage and officers’ baggage. Doubtless there were, also not a few stragglers, who had, without orders, remained in the vicinity of their former encampment.

 Mrs. Wicke, who was in poor health at the time of the mutiny of Wayne’s troops, was greatly annoyed by the noises attending the unbridled carousals of the drunken soldiers. “For on January 1^st, 1781, there came the mutiny in General Wayne’s command so near his (Mr. Wicke’s) home that the sounds of the shots that killed Captain Bettin must have reached the ears of its inmates;” such is the statement to be found in No. 111, of “A Branch of the Woodruff Stock,” by our talented townsman, Francis E. Woodruff. Mr. Wicke – again we quote from the above named authority – “was Captain of a company of Morris County cavalry that did good service in the war and engaged in at least one sharp fight, though frequently detailed as guard for Governor Livingston” – was absent from home [4], and Mrs. Wicke and her daughter, “Tempe,” seem to have been the only adult occupants of the house. During the day, Mrs. Wicke had an ill turn, induced, perhaps, by the excitement incident to the unusual occurrences about the place. The immediate attendance of a physician became necessary. Upon “Tempe” Wicke, therefore, devolved the duty of going for Dr. William Leddell, the family physician, who lived about a mile to the westward. As a means of insuring more completely the safety of her mother during her absence, “Tempe” carried her into the cellar. [5] Saddling and bridling and mounting her favorite horse, the devoted daughter sped away down the hill towards Dr. Leddell’s. Her errand accomplished, she again mounted her horse for a hasty return home. In front of the Leddell house she encountered two or three intoxicated soldiers – some of the mutineers, perhaps, but more likely some of the stragglers alluded to, whose too free use of intoxicants (procured, possibly from the officers’ baggage) had made them reckless. Rudely seizing the horse’s bridle, they commanded “Tempe” to dismount, and allow them to take the animal. Mr. Francis E. Woodruff says, in one of his carefully compiled pamphlets. “It was nearly in front of Dr. Leddell’s [6] that she (‘Tempe’ Wicke) refused to give up her pet (saddle horse) to our disorderly soldiers and galloped away from them.” On reaching home “Tempe” hastily dismounted from her foaming horse, led him through the kitchen and front room into the spare bed chamber, secured him and closed the wooden window shutter. Here he was kept three of four days; by the end of which time the mutineers had entirely disappeared from the neighborhood.

 In a communication to the writer, written while the series of articles on “History of Morristown, N.J. The Story of its First Century,” were running in the Saturday issues of the Newark Evening News, a well informed historian, said: “I read your horse story the same evening. It is very well told. Would advise your shading two or three points. (1) Some report ‘3 days,’ not ‘3 weeks.’ One possible, the other incredible; mutineers did not hang about so long. [7] (2) Not 1780, but 1781. Discipline good in 1780 [8], except for fowls. Farmers’ round robin, end of 1780, made much complaint of fowls, fence rails, and bad manners, none about horses. No order to draft horses. (Drafting of horses always orderly and serious business, anyhow). (3) If the mutineer fired, he certainly fired wildly to scare the girl. They were not murderous. [9]”   

 In reply to the query – “Did you ever hear of a ring in the room where the horse (“Tempe” Wicke’s) was kept, to which the horse was tied? Recently submitted in writing to Miss Mary E. Leddell, by the writer, she says: I have heard of a hole in a timber in which a ring-bolt was inserted for the tie-strap.” Miss Leddell was the former owner and is the present occupant of the historic Dr. Leddell place. Of Dr. Leddell she is a lineal descendant.” [10]

1.     I don’t know why Sherman messed with the spelling of the last name. Everything before this, spells the name Wick.

2.     I assume he is referring to the letters of Enos Reeves. Later in the account, he cites a genealogical history of the Woodruff family, though I doubt it is a primary source.

3.     The soldiers were issued a half pint of rum for the New Year.

4.     I have little faith in the accuracy of the Woodruff source. There is no documentation of Henry Wick being in the Morris County Cavalry during the American Revolution. Henry was too old and was not required to serve in the militia. It’s true that Henry Wick was absent from the home during the mutiny. But it wasn’t because of militia service. Henry was dead. He died in December 1780.

5.     If Mrs. Wick was that sick, would you really want to put her in a damp cellar? If soldiers were stealing things, a cellar that usually held food or booze was one of the first places they would go. I find it hard to carry stuff down to the cellar; how is Tempe carrying her mother down there?

6.     If Tempe has gone to get the Doctor, why isn’t he with her when the soldiers appear? If he was coming later or had just given her medicine, why didn’t he come out to help Tempe if she was being accosted right in front of his house?

7.     Hiding the horse for a shorter time does make sense, but the mutineers weren’t gone in three days. Reeves mentions the mutineers leaving on January 5^th and frightening the family on January 6^th.

8.     I don’t know if the discipline was “good” if soldiers were stealing and deserting, and then there was the mutiny by two Connecticut regiments in May 1780.

9.     How does shooting at her help? I wouldn’t stop if someone was shooting at me. While it’s patriotic to say the soldiers weren’t murderous, they did commit rape, assaults, and one soldier was stabbed and killed by a fellow soldier during the 1779-80 encampment.

10.  Why would there be a ringbolt in a bedroom? This Leddell descendant is commenting on a hole in timber that could have been there for many other reasons. She wasn’t in the house when the mutiny occurred. 

1909: “The Wick House and Its Historical Environment” by Andrew Sherman, American Historical Magazine, May 1909, Vol. 4, No. 3, pages 258-260. Sherman repeated his mutiny version of the horse story but added some new details. In his 1905 book, Sherman noted that there was a debate over how long the horse was hidden in the house: three days versus three weeks. In this 1909 version, he claimed the horse was hidden for three weeks. There were hoofprints on the floor, which people saw but couldn’t see in 1909 because the floor was replaced.

“She drew from the bedstead the generous feather bed of those days, and placed it on the floor. She then tied her horse to a ring bolt in some way attached to a timber in the room, adjusting the feather bed so that the horse should stand upon it; by so doing the stamping of the animal would be less likely to be heard on the outside of the house. But notwithstanding this clever act, the horse stamped through the feather bed, and left the marks of his iron shoes on the floor…the marks of the horse’s iron shoes on the floor of the spare bed chamber of the Wick House have been visible; and several persons have informed the writer that they have seen these marks. They could be seen today, but that a new floor has been laid over that on which the horse stood. “

1914: “In the Wake of History, Along Old Roads to Morristown, Where Alexander Hamilton Wooed and Redcoats Rioted in Revolutionary Days” by Sarah Comstock, New York Times, July 12, 1914.  This book includes the Sherman mutiny horse story. It even included illustrations from Sherman’s book. I assume Sherman must have been her source. Amazingly, in a single sentence, the bad guys switch from “redcoats” to “mutineers.” This is the first instance where “Redcoats” [British soldiers] were the bad guys.

“Returning, she was confronted by a group of noisy redcoats, who ordered her to dismount…shut the pet animal into the spare bed chamber, where he remained a captive for several days until all danger of his being stolen was past, and the mutineers disappeared from the locality.”    

1926: The American Revolution and Morris County, Place and Influence of the County in the Great American Struggleby George S. Mott Doremus, The Record Print, Rockaway, New Jersey, 1926. This one is a retelling of the version popularized by Reverend Joseph Tuttle in the 1870’s. It ignores the updated version that appeared in Andrew Sherman’s Historic Morristown.

The Wick house is practically as it was on that day when Tempe Wick rode her pet horse down the hollow to Liddelle’s and when on her return, she came near losing it. A “maid of the army” [?] encamped partly on her father’s farm, she feared no danger. But as the army was about to move horses were needed, especially for some of the officers. Tempe had often been seen riding about but little attention had been paid to her horse until this day when she was met by a couple of soldiers who had been sent about the country to find horses. They stopped her, examined the horse and were rather surprised to find so splendid an animal. Holding the horse by the bridle, they informed her of their mission and asked her to dismount. Self possessed, after the first startle, and knowing that resistance was useless, she gave consent but required of them two promises. One that if possible they would return the horse to her, and the other that they would take the best of care of it. The men having promised, she started to dismount. They released their hold on the bridle. She touched her horse and the next moment was gone. Recovering from their surprise they fired shots to frighten her but she sped on. Her mind worked with her speed. To return to the barn would do no good, they would come and get him. To ride past the house would be no better, for she would have to return. If she tied him in the woods, they would find him. By the time she had reached the little house by the roadside she had determined her course. Dismounting, she led her pet to the kitchen door, then into the kitchen, through another room, across the little front hall, and through the front room into a back bedroom. The heavy wooden shutters being closed, none could see in. The soldiers coming up searched the barn, the farm, the woods, but could find no trace of the horse. They watched for her return, but there was no return. Some say a feather be and some that a straw-tick prevented the sound of the horses feet from being heard. For three weeks the pet occupied the guest-chamber, well cared for my its young owner. The army moved toward the Highlands, but no officer rode the fine steed of Tempe Wick.

1933: “Historic American Buildings Survey Wick, Tempe, House, Mendham Road, Jockey Hollow, Morristown, Morris County, NJ” Survey number HABS NJ-15, Historical Data, Pages 3-4, Documentation compiled after 1933. In 1933, the Wick House and its history were added to the National Park Service. The government, not wanting to offend anyone, says there is nothing to prove the story is true, but it might be true. They provide both three days and three weeks as the hiding time. They use the Sherman mutineer version. It was signed by the “Supervising Historian, _____ Rutt, who cited Andrew Sherman [Historic Morristown…1903] and William Tuttle [Bottle Hill and Madison, 1916] and John Whitehead [The Passaic Valley New Jersey In Three Centuries, 1901].

With the house is also associated the story of Tempe Wick. The Pennsylvania troops under General Wayne mutinied in January 1781. Mrs. Wick, according to one story told about the episode, was sick and Temperance Wick, familiarly called Tempe, went to Dr. Leddell who was her brother-in-law. As she mounted her horse when returning, several American soldiers stopped her and ordered her to dismount declaring that they had use for the horse. Through a ruse Tempe escaped and rode home. When she arrived, she led the horse into the big kitchen, through the parlor, and into the spare bedroom in the northeast corner of the house. She closed the shutters of the only window in the room. According to the story, she placed the feather bed on the floor so that the stamping of the horse would be less likely to be heard. The soldiers searched the barn and woods for the horse, but left without it. According to one version of the story, the horse was kept in the bed chamber for three weeks; another version says three days. There are no actual records to prove that this story is true, but it seems to have the basis of the fact.

1935: “Protest Made Against Use of Colonial Reproductions, Mendham Woman Claims Tempe Wick and Guerin House Remodeling Not Resembling Original Condition,” Morristown Daily Record, May 3, 1935. The focus of this newspaper article was about the restoration and furnishing of the house, but it added the horse story as background information. It told the original Tuttle version of Tempe hiding the horse from soldiers collecting horses for the army. Folks were still claiming the horse was hidden for three weeks.

The story of Tempe (short for Temperance) Wick and her horse has been told and retold, children and grown ups have to hear again and again how Tempe, when unexpectedly faced with the possibility of being robbed of her horse by the soldiers of her own country, because good horses were greatly needed, and they had orders to take horses wherever they could find them gave her spirited steed a sharp cut with the whip, dashed between two of the soldiers and before they realized it, was off and away. The soldiers followed, but Tempe rode swiftly on and her thoughts galloped as did her horse. There was but one thing to do and that must be done quickly. Without hesitating an instant she rode up to the back door of her home and led him boldly into the house.

Once within the kitchen she bolted the door, then led him through the parlor and into a small bed room with but a single window, the shutters of which were kept closed when it was not in use.

The door was quickly shut and Tempe stood alone with her horse in the darkness.

For three weeks that animal was a carefully attended guest in the spare room.

The soldiers searched the barn and out buildings for the horse which had vanished like a butterfly.

When the cavalry moved away from Morristown, no one rode away on that fine horse and he went back to his stall in the stable and that room in which he passed so many quiet days is still to be seen in the old wick house which stands on the pleasant country road from Mendham to Morristown going by way of Washington Corner.

The staple to which Tempe tied her horse was at the end of the room, and the horse’s hoof marks were on the floor.

This board has since been covered by a new flooring about 40 years ago.

The old house has suffered many changes since Tempe rode her horse and the plan of the Department of the Interior was to restore the house as it was in that day…There has been a small window put in the north end of the spare room where Tempe tied her horse. There was no window at this end at that time…. Mrs. Edgar Garfield Fisher, Mendham, N.J.” 

1935: “Believes Tempe Wick Hiding Horse A Myth, Museum Chief, After Careful Study of House, Doubts Story…” Morristown Daily Record, June 29, 1935. This newspaper article started a series of articles and editorials in the press debating the truth of the legend. This was the first time someone challenged the cherished local legend, and many people were unhappy that the government said the story wasn’t true.

Washington, D.C. – Just how much mythology should enter into the Morristown National Historical Park is the problem confronting the Park Service today.

Dr. C. P. Russell, Chief of the Eastern Museum Division, wants the park to be historically correct. For months before the project began he had his staff digging from the Congressional Library the facts dealing with the life of Washington…

Now comes an exhibit of vital human interest and the Park Service admits that it just doesn’t quite know how to deal with the problem. It concerns the restoration of the old Tempe Wick House. During the Revolution a fiery lady, Temperance Wick, was residing in the vicinity of the fighting. She owned a speedy horse which one of the soldiers demanded that she give to him for use in the service. Quite an argument developed during the course of which the soldier said that he would take the horse from the barn if Temperance Wick did not give it to him peacefully.

“Temperance spurred the horse homeward, not wishing to continue the argument. But she didn’t put it in the barn – she kept the horse in her bedroom for three days.

Mr. Louis Schallbach, Assistant Chief of the Eastern Museum Division, says that he thinks the story of Temperance Wick will be interesting to the public but says he is quite sure it isn’t true.

     “

I believe, from a study of the subject, that Temperance Wick was fiery and quick-tempered, but I certainly don’t believe that she kept a horse in her bedroom for three days. I inspected the Tempe Wick house last month with the thought of judging the possibility of truth in the story and I am convinced the story in a myth…”    

1935  – “Oh Tempora” - Editorial in Morristown Daily Record, July 3, 1935. The editor of the local newspaper was a local booster and didn’t want to offend his readers. So, he believed the legend. His editorial reads a little like the “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” editorial. The editor also added a new “fact” to the story: Tempe’s horse was white. 

“A little legend, like a little knowledge, is a wonderful – and dangerous – thing. Here loyal Morristonians for generations and generations back have been telling and retelling the classic story of Tempe Wick and the beautiful white horse she hid in her bedroom to thwart marauding British soldiers. And now the National Historical Park Service, in charge of rehabilitating the Wick home, comes along with a story doubting the myth of the fiery, tempestuous Temperance and her bit of Revolutionary dare-deviltry.

Is nothing sacred? Cannot the Park Service ley sleeping legends lie? Or has rehabilitation come to mean that the tenuous fabric of human fancy – myth and legend – must be sacrificed on the altar of historical accuracy? A pox on historical accuracy if it robs us of our fairy tales and misty characters out of olden story books! Before we know it, the Park Service may tell us Tempe never lived or loved at all. And then would we legend-lovers be in a pretty pickle!”  

1935: “Correction,” Morristown Daily Record, July 8, 1935. There were probably other articles, columns and editorials of the Tempe Story, but not all survived. This correction seems to be replying to the editorial above and another column. Apparently, someone claimed she was hiding the horse from the British [a version that first appeared in 1914]. But the person writing the correction cites Sherman and says it was mutineers trying to take the horse. In the end, the editor stands by his claim that it was the British trying to steal the horse.

Correction.

Dear Sir:

     In a recent column, you quoted an octogenarian informant as saying he recalled “how two or three other boys and myself finally got to talking about Tempe Wick and how she had hidden her horse from the English soldiers.” A recent Record editorial relates that “loyal Morristonians for generations have been telling and retelling the classic story of Tempe Wick and the beautiful white horse she hid in her bedroom to thwart marauding British soldiers.”

“Historic Morristown, New Jersey: The Story of its First Century,” so capably written by Andrew M. Sherman in 1905 states specially that the attempted theft of Tempe Wick’s horse was engineered by continental or American troops. Sherman was impeded by no patriotic scruples when he recorded the incident. He said the would-be horse-thiefs were mutineering Pennsylvanians who ‘had in some way found access to a liberal supply of alcoholic drinks; whether rum or applejack, the writer is unable to say’ In another place he refers to Tempe’s assailants as ‘our disorderly soldiers.’

Absence

     Had Sherman failed to lay the blame on American troops in so many words, the student of local history would never the less gather it was impossible for Britishers to have been in the vicinity of Jockey Hollow at any time during the revolution. All records show the Redcoats never penetrated these hills; they were repelled at Chatham Bridge in the east and failed to advance closer than Basking Ridge on the west. The Patriots’ encampment was a defense par excellence against any invasion.

     From the point of view of a local newspapermen, I have two reactions to your mistake: in the first place, I think the Tempe Wick story would be much more of a “natural” if it involved Redcoats, and in the second place, I have all conceivable kinds of sympathy for a newspaperman who has made an error. I have made far too many myself.

Sincerely yours.

Fred A. Crane

     While there may be some who doubt the authenticity of some of Mr. Sherman’s historical observations, there are few who would not profit by reading his quaintly written volume, all 500 pages of it. In this specific instance the writer yields to Mr. Cranes’s correction – with the last-word comment tht popular legend has it that the soldiers in question WERE British.”

1935: “Tempe,” Morristown Daily Record, July 16, 1935. Another local historian named Hoffman joined in on what he hoped would be the final word on the Tempe truth vs. legend argument. He claimed the story was true and the evil National Park Service was wrong in claiming it was a myth. He supported the Reverend Tuttle version of the story and didn’t mention the Sherman mutiny version. He did conclude with the fact that the British were not involved and never got that close to Morristown.

“The following purports to be absolutely the last word on the Tempe Wick verbal flurry. The author is an historian of some note and he combines personal recollections with well documented bits of research. As far as can be determined the story of Tempe Wick is no myth – and the National Park Service can whistle up another chimney if it thinks it can get away with doubting the glamorous incident in Tempe’s life.

Centennial    

This little controversy over the story of Tempe Wick and her horse has interested me to quite some extent. It has been handed down to me by my father and I believe it to be true. My grandfather was a captain in the War of 1812, his father fought with the New Jersey Troops in the War of the Revolution, and it is through this channel that the story has come to me. No one has studied more fully or written more carefully the Revolutionary history of Morristown than Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, D.D. former pastor of the Rockaway Presbyterian Church and afterwards president of Wabash College, Indiana and who delivered the address on the occasion of Morristown’s greatest Fourth of July celebration, the centennial of 1876. In the historical magazine for June, 1871, there is an article from the pen of Dr. Tuttle from which the following is quoted:

The house on the Wick property is still standing very much as it was in the winter of the American Army encampment. It is on the crown of the hill whence you descend to Mendham and eastward to Morristown. In front of the house was an old locust tree at least two and a half feet in diameter and at the east end is the largest red cedar I have ever seen.

Both of these trees were standing in 1876. In the vicinity of the house are several immense black cherry trees which belong to the same period. The house itself is nearly square and is built in the old style of New England houses with a famous large chimney stack in the center. The very door which swung there is there still, hanging on the same substantial strap hinges and ornamented with the same old lion-headed knocker. Passing through this door, which fronts southward, you come, into a hall some eight feet wide.

Turning to the right, you pass from the hall into the ordinary family room and to the left is the parlor. A door from the family room and the parlor leads you into the kitchen, which is about two-thirds the length of the house. On the north side of the parlor is a door leading into the spare bed-room, with which is connected an amusing incident. Great difficulty was experienced, in the Spring of 1780, in procuring teams to remove the army stores, [deleated phrase:”and horses for Cavalry.”] Mr. Wicke’s daughter, Tempe, owned a beautiful young horse, which she frequently rode, and always with skill. She was an admirable and a bold rider.

Seizure

One day, as the preparations for removing the Army were progressing, Miss Wicke rode her favorite horse to the house of her brother-in-law, Mr. Leddell, on the road to Mendham; and, on her return, was accosted by some soldiers, who commanded her to dismount and let them take the horse. One of them had seized the bridle-reins. Perfectly self-possessed, she appeared to submit to her fate, but not without a vain entreaty not to take her favorite from her. She then told them she was sorry to part with the animal, but as she must, she would ask two favors of them, the one was to return him to her, if possible; and the other was, whether they returned him or not, to treat him well.

The soldiers were completely thrown off their guard, and reins were released, they supposing she was about to dismount, than which nothing was farther from her intentions, for no sooner was the man’s hand loose from the bridle than she touched her spirited horse with the whip, and he sped from among them like an arrow.

Fire

As she was riding away, at full speed, they fired after her, but probably without intending to hit her; at any rate, she was unharmed. She urged her horse up the hill, at his highest speed, and coming round to the kitchen-door, on the North side of the house, she sprang off and led him into the kitchen, thence into the parlor, and thence into the spare bed-room which had but one window, and that on the west side. This was secured with a shutter.

The soldiers, shortly after, came up, searched the barn and the woods in vain. Miss Wicke saved her horse, by keeping him in that bedroom, three weeks, until the last troop was fairly off.

The incident, which is authentic, shows the adroitness and courage of the young lady, who afterwards, became the wife of William Tuttle, an officer in the Jersey Brigade during the entire War.”

Myth

To my mind this officer was no distant relation to Dr. Tuttle who tells this story as a fact and has never been questioned until recently and then only on doubt of being authentic. If there is any myth attached to this story, it is that of the soldiers belonging to the British Army. Of course anyone well versed in history knows that the enemy never reached Morristown. A detachment did get to Basking Ridge and captured General Lee. I have heard my grandmother tell of how her grandmother saw the Red Coats go up the road and later come back with their captive.

I was just wondering if some one will come forward with a challenge that the story of Rhoda Farrand, her ox cart and knitting stockings is also a myth.

H.B. Hoffman

The column is grateful to Mr. Hoffman for his comment. And the story of the Farrand Ox Cart and Knitting Stockings sounds interesting. Maybe the Park Service is checking on that one now. R. W. B.” 

1935 – “Tempe” Morristown Daily Record, July 20, 1935. The newspaper didn’t seem to want to give up on a popular story, so they interviewed the former mayor of Morristown, Clyde Potts. He had been a big supporter of the creation of Morristown NHP, so his opinion on the controversy stirred up by National Park historians promised to make a good story. Perhaps hoping to be reelected Potts supported the horse story as being true. He also wisely added it didn’t matter what anyone said, if the people wanted to believe it, they would believe it no matter what anyone said.

 “I’m betting on Tempe and her horse,” former Mayor Clyde Potts writes the column in reference to that little controversy over whether or not the horse story is true…

And it would be rather difficult matter to line up twenty adult residents of town who could be induced to express doubt in that classic legend. Whether or not the story is true seems to be beside the point, The fact remains people want to believe the story. And when people want to believe something that settles it.”

1936: “Tempe Wick Tale A Legend? U.S. Park Officer Doubts Horse in Bedroom Story” The Sunday Call Newark, N.J., January 25, 1936. The Park Service stuck to its guns and continued to claim the story wasn’t true. But the newspaper repeated the whole legend anyway.

“Morristown – “Some persons say they have actually seen the boards with the hoof marks showing just where the horse was hidden, but we’ve tried all manner of ways to trace them and have failed. We’ve about reached the conclusion that the whole story is a legend.”

As he spoke, the officer of the National Park Service opened the door and pointed to the little room where Tempe Wick was supposed to have hidden her mount from rebelling Pennsylvania troops during the colonial army’s winter encampment in Jockey Hollow Park, here, in December 1780…

Curiosity of visitors in the Wick house proves that more persons are interested in the insignificant little human-interest stories that are passed down in history than they are in dates and details of big battles,

Tempe Wick won no battles; she did not go into the line of fire or save the day for an artillery company., She was merely a country lass who, by quick thinking, saved her horse from rebelling troops who wanted to commander it for a march to Philadelphia to demand their back pay.

Accosted by troops who had been her friends, Tempe was unafraid until they clutched the reins and demanded she dismount.

“Why?” she cried

“Because we’ve got orders to take all horses.” They replied.

Tempe feigned assent, offered no resistance. They could have the horse, she told them, if they would promise to feedit and treat it well. in fact, at yonder stump she would dismount. The soldiers, off guard, loosened his grip on the reins.

In a flash Tempe had snatched them away and was off down the road. Their shots, intended to frighten her, only spurred her on. And when she reached her house, knowing the soldiers would search the other buildings, she hid the horse in her bedroom. There it remained for several days while perplexed soldiers watched for her return from her flight. Then, at last, they marched off under leadership of Gen. “Mad Anthony” Wayne to demand fair treatment at the capital…”

1938: Stories of New Jersey, Its Significant Places, People and Activities, Compiled and Written by the Federal Writers’ Project of the Works Progress Administration for the State of New Jersey, M. Barrows and Company, New York, 1039. The Federal Writers’ Project of the WPA, another government sponsored Depression era group, walked a fine line. They told the story, but said it was a legend. They added a new version where she rode the horse into the house.

“According to the legend, two mutineers attempted to commandeer Tempe’s horse…to a bedroom in the northwest corner of the house…spread a featherbed on the floor so that the horse’s stamping would be muffled…According to another version of the story, Tempe rode the horse straight into the house without stopping to dismount. Regardless of the authenticity of the Tempe legend…”

1939: “Tempe Wick House – Jockey Hollow Park,: Historic New Jersey in Pictures by James S. Cawley, Princeton University Press, 1939, pg. 56. This was just a caption to a photograph, but they added a new wrinkle of burlap bags tied to the horses’ feet. But they don’t explain why.

“The house is known as the place where little Tempe Wick, in an endeavor to save her pet horse from foraging parties, during the two terrible winters 1777-79, tied burlap bags on its feet and hid it in her bedroom.”

1940’s: Form Letter from Dr. Francis Ronalds, Park Superintendent. Francis Ronalds had a doctorate in history and was the park superintendent from the late 1930s through the 1950s. Apparently, the park got enough inquiries about the horse story that Ronalds wrote up a form letter that could be used whenever the need arose. He traced the earliest version of the story to Rev. Tuttle in 1871. However, he said the article appeared in the Annals of Morris County while I found the article in the Historical Magazine in 1871. Tuttle’s horse story also appears in the Annals of Morris County,but the version I found of that publication is dated 1876, not 1871. In both cases, the story is exactly the same. Ronalds also mentioned and supported the Sherman mutiny version because of the Lt. Reeves letters. Like Mayor Potts and previous government accounts, Ronalds didn’t quite believe the legend, but he also didn’t want to offend folks, so he said, “None of the above can be proved by any contemporary records known to us,… while the details of the story are legend, it does seem to have substantial basis in fact.”

Tempe Wick’s Horse

The earliest written version of the horse story we know about appears in the Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, D.D., “Washington in Morris County,” Annals of Morris County (no imprint, but this portion appears to have been prepared about 1854), pages 58-59. It was apparently reprinted in The Historical Magazine for June, 1881 [wrong date it’s really 1871], and is thence quoted in Edmund D. Halsey, “History of Morris County” in History of Morris County (W.W. Munsell & Co., New York, 1882, page 121”

According to this Tuttle version, the horse incident happened in the spring of 1780. However, we believe the story to be much more plausible as later set down by Andrew M. Sherman in The American Historical Magazine for May, 1909, pages 258-260. This relates that in the early days of January, 1871, while the Mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line was in progress, Tempe rode her horse down the road toward Mendham for the purpose of getting her brother-in-law, Dr. William Leddell, to come to see her mother, who was ill at the time. Her father had died on December 21, 1780, just a short while before. On her return homeward, she was accosted by several of the mutinous Pennsylvania troops, who asked for her horse. Feigning consent, upon which the mutineers released their hold on the horse’s bridle, she managed to escape, galloped her steed home, and there hid him in her bedroom until the mutineers at last moved off.

 None of the above can be proved by any contemporary records known to us, but we do have a copy of a letter written about that time by an officer in the Pennsylvania Line, Lieutenant Enos Reeves (Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. XXI, Pages 75-76), in which he stated that during a visit to the Leddells he found there “Mrs. Wicks and her agreeable daughter almost frightened out of their lives, as some of the mutineers made their appearance around their house and insisted on their showing them where to find horses.” In other words, while the details of the story are legend, it does seem to have substantial basis in fact.

Sincerely yours,

Francis S. Ronalds

Superintendent”   

1942: The Revolutionary Scene in New Jersey by Robert V. Hoffman, American Historical Company, 1942. This was one of many stories in a book that was written to encourage reading among young adults. It added details and dialogue to make the story more interesting to its projected audience. It followed the Sherman mutiny version but added new, unsubstantiated details. In this version, Tempe was 14 years old when she was about 22. The horse was named Colonel—the first time the horse has had a name. She was stopped by soldiers while returning from the Guerin house [every other version says Dr. Leddell’s house]. Tempe told soldiers to meet her at Wick House, where she would turn over the horse. This was a new aspect, probably trying to avoid the inconsistencies in Sherman’s version with the Leddell house and soldiers shooting at her. She hid the horse in the house, and soldiers didn’t find it. Also, strangely, the soldiers did not complain or retaliate over the change in the deal in which Tempe promised to give them her horse. 

“Little Tempe Wick, just turned fourteen, and a brimful of energy, fairly leaped into the saddle, gave her horse a gentle tap on the flank with the flat of her hand and said: Now, go it, Colonel!...

Since the death of her father, Captain Henry Wick, they had been on the road much of the time, running errands and helping about the farm…she had met General Washington…

Mentions General St. Clair the previous winter [1779-1780] then moves up to PA Line Mutiny. Mother sick. She sees Dr. Leddell who promises to visit in afternoon. She rides to see Mrs. Guerin to get news. Mrs. Guerin tells her about mutiny. Tempe is stopped by two soldiers when she was returning home from the Guerins. They say they want to ride the horse to Bucks County, PA. She tells soldiers to meet her at her house and then they can have the horse.

“Reaching the house, she led the Colonel through the rear door – it was a very tight squeeze even for the Colonel, who was not much bigger than a pony – and into her little back bedroom…The soldiers searched the premises and nearby woods in vain and she heard them go off down the road…the next day she goes to Guerins and Mrs, Guerin says, “You’re a plucky child, she said patting her cheeks. Those soldiers said so. They went over to the arsenal and told one of the men there all about you. And you know what they said?

Tempe shook her pretty head. Can’t even guess, she answered. Please tell me,

They said you were a match for any soldier. Tempe, think of that – a match!”    

1943: Mutiny in January: the story of a crisis in the Continental Army now for the first time fully told from many hitherto unknown or neglected sources, both American and British by Carl Van Doren, Viking Press, pg. 49. Van Doren wrote the definitive book on the Pennsylvania Line mutiny. I assume in an effort to be complete, he also included a paragraph about the Tempe horse story. He repeated the new, altered mutiny version of the story that first appeared inThe Revolutionary Scene in New Jersey by Robert V. Hoffman, 1942.

“(An incident that may actually have taken place on Tuesday gave rise to one of the few legends of the mutiny still surviving in Morristown. Temperance Wick, the legend says, a young girl who lived with her recently widowed mother in the farmhouse near the magazine, was riding along Jockey Hollow road when two soldiers tried to take her horse from her saying they would use him only to go to their houses in Bucks County and then would send him back to her. She talked the mild, and perhaps embarrassed, mutineers into letting her ride to her own home first, where they might come and have her horse. But before they arrived she had hidden him in a small back bedroom, which is still shown to visitors, and kept him there till they had given up the search and gone.)"

1946: New Jersey A Guide to It’s Present and Past, Compiled and Written by the Federal Writer’s Project of the Works Progress Administration for the State of New Jersey, American Guide Series, Hastings House, New York, 1946. Another book by the Federal Writers’ Project. In this book they repeated, in a shortened form, both versions of the horse story from their previous 1938 work. But they added, “Conceding the liberal dimensions of Colonial door-frames and the delicate proportions of Miss Wick, the question remains: Who opened the door – Tempe, or the horse?”  

1952 & 1956: Form Letters from Park Superintendents. Both letters contain almost identical information which is similar to Superintendent Ronalds letter. The text below comes from Acting Superintendent Melvin Weig, who was also the Park Historian. After a personalized first paragraph the text stated,

“According to the records of the First Presbyterian Church of Morristown, of which she was a member, Tempe or Temperance Wick was born October 30, 1758, and was therefore 22 years old at the time of the Mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line, Continental Army, which began on January 1, 1781, in what is now the Jockey Hollow Area of this park. It was during the course of the mutiny, according to popular legend, that the so-called “horse incident” occurred.

Tempe married Captain William Tuttle, of the Jersey Line, Continental Army, by whom she had five children. The Presbyterian Church records also reveal her death on April 28, 1822. She was buried in the Tuttle vault in the First Presbyterian Church Cemetery in Morristown, near the Green. However, the remains of this vault were removed sometime later to Evergreen Cemetery (October 23, 1894), also in Morristown, and there they are today, Tempe’s remains among the. The name itself appears in the records as “Tempie Wick” and “Tempe Wickham.” That “Wick” was the usual surname spelling is evident from many other contemporary sources.

 The earliest written version of the horse story we know about appears in the Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, D.D., “Washington in Morris County,” Annals of Morris County (no imprint, but this portion appears to have been prepared about 1854), pages 58-59. It was apparently reprinted in The Historical Magazine for June, 1881 [Note: wrong date. It’s really 1871 and Annals of Morris County is 1876], and is thence quoted in Edmund D. Halsey, “History of Morris County” in History of Morris County (W.W. Munsell & Co., New York, 1882, page 121”

 According to this Tuttle version, the horse incident happened in the spring of 1780. However, we believe the story to be much more plausible as later set down by Andrew M. Sherman in The American Historical Magazine for May, 1909, pages 258-260. This relates that in the early days of January, 1871, while the Mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line was in progress, Tempe rode her horse down the road toward Mendham for the purpose of getting her brother-in-law, Dr. William Leddell, to come to see her mother, who was ill at the time. Her father had died on December 21, 1780, just a short while before. On her return homeward, she was accosted by several of the mutinous Pennsylvania troops, who asked for her horse. Feigning consent, upon which the mutineers released their hold on the horse’s bridle, she managed to escape, galloped her steed home, and there hid him in her bedroom until the mutineers at last moved off.

 None of the above can be proved by any contemporary records known to us, but we do have a copy of a letter written about that time by an officer in the Pennsylvania Line, Lieutenant Enos Reeves (Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. XXI, Pages 75-76), in which he stated that during a visit to the Leddells he found there “Mrs. Wicks and her agreeable daughter almost frightened out of their lives, as some of the mutineers made their appearance around their house and insisted on their showing them where to find horses.” In other words, while the details of the story are legend, it is not without some basis in authenticated fact.[ Weig copied everything Ronalds had written but he subsistuted the phrase in bold for Ronalds,  “it does seem to have substantial basis in fact.”]

It is hoped that this information will be of some help to you in the work you are doing, but if you have further questions, please do not hesitate to write to us again. As of possible interest, I am enclosing one of our free park folders for your reference file.

Sincerely yours,

Melvin Weig

Acting Superintendent”

Date Unknown: Thompson Family Bible. Source Material Questionable. Tempe Wick was described in the Thompson Family Bible. When I started working at Morristown in the late 1970s, a physical description of Tempe appeared in research files that was said to come from the Thompson Family Bible. I had no idea why someone would write a description of Tempe in their Bible, but that was all we knew. In 1990, I took a course at Morris County College researching local history. During a break, I overheard someone asking about the Thompson family Bible. It turns out they didn’t have the Bible, but they had a much bigger passage from the Bible that included Tempe. They sent me a transcription, and it made even less sense.

It read like something out of the nineteenth century; it even uses the “N” word to describe an escaped slave. The story revolved around a local family that captured an enslaved woman who had escaped. Later, Tempe Wick arrives at their house and recognizes the slave as Mrs. Washington’s personal slave. The story continues in the quote below.

“Tempe when she heard the wench [supposedly Mrs. Washington’s escaped female servant] had run away from such a good and kind mistress was for beating her good and plenty… I often thought what would have resulted if Tempe had grabbed the girl as she did not weigh over ninety pounds and Tempe like our steer – big of bone and full chest – many of the times at the old stone house has Tempe floored me.”

The family stopped Tempe’s planned assault. They decided to return the slave to Washington at the Ford Mansion. Tempe accompanied the writer, a young man, as far as the road to her home near the camp. The young man was happy that Tempe came along because,

…All of the soldiers was fond of Miss Wicks, so there was no danger. 

The young man continued to the Ford Mansion. When he got there that night, there was a big party at the Mansion to raise money for the poor soldiers.

Why all this would be in someone’s Bible makes no sense to me. However, the physical description of Tempe seems to be the source of the description of Tempe in the 1974 book This Time Tempe Wick?

1974: This Time Tempe Wick?  by Patricia Lee Gauch & illustrated by Margot Tomes, 1974. Tempe’s story in a children’s book. This version takes place during the Pennsylvania Line mutiny. Tempe is described as being big. Most likely based on the description from the Thompson family bible, since it compares her to a steer and wrestling with boys. Now the horse’s name is Bonny. During the mutiny, Tempe and her mother are home alone. There is no mention of her dead father. A camp blacksmith informs them of the mutiny. Tempe guards the house with a rifle from the kitchen window. Mrs. Wick is sick, and Tempe goes to Dr. Williams for medicine. No mention of her brother-in-law, Doctor Leddell, who lived on the next farm. She hides her sick mother in the cellar before she leaves. Tempe gets the horse from the stable while soldiers lurk around the farm, but they don’t try to take the horse. On her return from the Doctor’s, she is stopped by two soldiers who want the horse to ride to Philadelphia. She escapes. They shoot. She hides the horse in HER bedroom. Soldiers arrive but can’t find the horse. They suspect the horse is in the house because Tempe takes hay, oats, and water into the house. The soldiers eventually come into the house, but Tempe won’t let them near the bedroom and finally physically throws a soldier out of the house, taking his musket.    

Photograph of Book Cover - This Time, Tempe Wick?: Gauch, Patricia Lee: 9780399218804: Amazon.com: Books.

1975: “The Tempe Wick House,” Morristown and Morris Township, A Guide to Historic Sites, published by the Washington Association of New Jersey, 1975, pg. 58. A local guidebook that, of course, had to mention the legend. However, they give it less credence.

“…Local people still enjoy telling the story of how Henry’s daughter, Tempe, hid her horse in a bedroom to keep it from being stolen by mutineers.”

1975: Colonial and Revolutionary Morris County by Theodore Thayer, The Morris County Heritage Commission, 1975. Professor Thayer seemed to use part of the story from Robert Hoffman’s 1942, The Revolutionary Scene in New Jersey, because he included the part about Tempe striking a deal with the soldiers that she’ll give them her horse after they let her ride home. The description of Tempe being “buxom” may have come from the Thompson Bible or just his imagination. At least he does call it a legend.

“During the mutiny at camp, Tempe Wick, the buxom [?] twenty-two year old daughter of Captain Henry Wick [not a captain] who had died but ten days before, was on the way home from visiting her sister Phoebe. Tempe did not have far to go since Phoebe and her husband, Dr. William Leddell, lived only about a half-mile down the road toward Mendham. Tempe was riding her much-beloved horse, whose name has not been recorded [true, but other versions named it Bonny or Colonel]. She had not gone far before she was stopped by a party of mutineers bent on taking all the horses they could find. Thinking quickly as the men demanded her to get down, Tempe told the men they could have the horse after she had ridden home. The soldiers agreed. However, when the rather considerate mutineers arrived at the Wick House, they searched all the barns and sheds but could not find the horse. Determined to keep the horse, Tempe had hidden the animal in a small room in the house. If the soldiers tried knocking at her door, they apparently gave up their search and left to rejoin the main body of the mutineers. The story of Tempe Wick hiding her horse from the soldiers has long been one of the favorite legends of the Revolution.”

Late 1970s or early 1980s: Memo from R.H. Pitts, Park Technician, to Sue Kopcynzski, Park Historian, Subject: Hoofprints in Tempe Wick’s Bedroom? Once again, the story of someone who saw the hoofprints on the floor before the floor was repaired. This may be the same “Charlie’ that John Cunningham referred to when he visited the Wick house around 1925.  

 “I don’t know if you have come across this subject much, but among the long time visitors to the Wick House, there have been claims of hoofprints left by the horse in Tempe’s bedroom. Of course, they aren’t there now.

One Saturday Dick Lacrosse and I were stationed out there when two elderly couples came. One of the women could only get about with a walker. The other one told us that they used to live up at the other end of the park (Western Ave & Pictatinny Road) near fifty years before, and that they visited the Wick House often, picking apples and drinking deep from the well. They said further that the fellow that lived there, one Charlie Swisher, used to tell them that there were hoofprints in the bedroom, but that he fell through the floor one day and had to replace the boards.

So, there may have been something to those stories.”

1986: “The Henry, or Tempe, Wick House,” In Lights and Shadows, Morristown in Three Centuries by Cam Cavanaugh, The Joint Free Public Library of Morristown and Morris Township, 1986, pg. 47. Cavanaugh doesn’t seem to be a believer but includes the story because of local tradition.

“…During the encampment, Tempe Wick was the only child still at home and a romantic tradition surrounds her and this house. The most popular version is that on January 1, 1781, when soldiers of the Pennsylvania Line were in mutiny she had gone to her brother-in-law, Dr Leddell (on present Tempe Wick Road), to fetch medicine for her ailing mother. She was stopped by a roving band of mutineers who demanded her horse. It is said she feigned giving up the horse, but while the soldiers were off guard, turned the animal around and escaped. She rode swiftly home and hid the horse in her bedroom until the soldiers departed the area. Hoof marks were supposedly visible for many years after the Revolutionary War.” 

1991: Ride into Morning: The Story of Tempe Wick by Ann Rinaldi, Harcourt, Inc., 1991. A completely fictionalized Young Adult story based on the Wick family. The book is 266 pages long with a 12-page “Afterward” with small biographies of the characters in the story. Finally, a seven-page “Author’s Note” explains why she wrote the book. In this version, the story takes place during the Pennsylvania Line mutiny. The horse was white and named Colonel. Two mutineers tried to take the horse, but she escaped and hid it in a spare bedroom. Tempe wrapped the horse’s hooves with strips of blankets and put a quilt on the floor. Tempe feeds the horse sugar to keep it quiet. She ties the horse to a ringbolt in the bedroom wall and keeps the horse inside overnight. There were hoofprints left on the floor. 

Photograph of Book Cover - A Ride into Morning: The Story of Tempe Wick: Rinaldi, Ann: 9780152006730: Amazon.com: Books

“Author’s Note

…I made a trip, again, to Morristown National Historical Park and started asking the very patient staff there questions about Tempe Wick.

Much to my surprise, they were ready for me. And for anyone else who asks about her. Because, they explained, that’s what most people ask about when they come to the park. They ask about the girl who hid her horse in the house.

I am familiar enough with American history by now to know that it is the myths rather than the facts that remain in people’s minds…

So the staff at Morristown were ready for me, as they are ready for everyone who asks about Tempe Wick…

And since the National Park deals only in historical facts, they prepared papers on Tempe Wick – after doing as much research as they could on the family. They gave me those papers, as they give them out to others who ask about Tempe. It is their “position” on the myth. That position is that “as far as current scholarship can tell, the story of Tempe and her horse is merely legend.”

Personal Note: I was one of the “patient” Park Rangers that Ann Rinaldi met on her visits to Jockey Hollow. When I met her, she told me she was going to write a book about Tempe Wick hiding her horse in the house. I told her, “Well, you know the story isn’t true, it’s just a legend.” She paused and replied, “Well, they are paying me to write the book.” We gave her all the historical information we had, and to her credit, she did include it in her book. But it is at the very end, after the story is finished and I’m sure many readers don’t read the real story. Instead, they got a young adult romance/history that bends the facts.

She then gives a short history of the development of the Tempe’s horse story over time.

“Thus the Morristown National Historical Park staff give us their disclaimer, which is right and proper, as it should be from people concerned with dispensing historical facts…

No, current scholarship cannot verify the myth of Tempe Wick. But…

…I hope you like my story. But always remember – it is fiction. There are many books you can read to find out about the real encampments at Morristown and the mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line. Ann Rinaldi, May 21, 1990”

2002: Morristown, A Military Headquarters of the American Revolution by John W. Rae, Arcadia Publishing, 2002. The only mention of the story is a caption for a photo of the Wick House. It doesn’t say the story is true. It merely says the house is famous because of the story, which unfortunately is also true. That’s why everyone calls it the “Tempe Wick House” rather than the “Henry Wick House” or the “William Tuttle House.”

“The Wick House…became famous as the house in which Tempe Wick hid her horse from soldiers.”

2007: The Uncertain Revolution, Washington & the Continental Army at Morristown by John Cunningham, Cormorant Publishing, 2007. John Cunningham began his last book with a charming story about a boyhood friend showing him the “hoofprints” which sparked his interest in Jockey Hollow. John was a believer in the horse story but was graciously willing to accept the historic truth from members of the park staff. But I have a question about the accuracy of John’s story about Charlie Swiser. John Cunningham was born in 1915. Which meant he was probably in 4^th Grade around 1925. Charles V. Swisher or Charles Swisher Jr. was born in 1905. There is a ten-year age difference between the two boys. I doubt they were in the same grade, but perhaps it was a one room schoolhouse serving multiple grades. More myths and legends.

“Author’s Preface     A Personal Perspective

 This is a book that has been taking shape in my mind since childhood. I grew up in a New Jersey village called, Brookside, about four miles west of Morristown and about three miles northeast (as the crow flies) of Jockey Hollow.

My sense of Jockey Hollow was stirred when a boy named Charlie joined our fourth grade class in the two-room Brookside Grammar School. He told us of his bedroom, where “some girl” during “some war” had hidden a horse to keep it away from some enemy or other. Charlie insisted hoof prints could be seen in the floor.

The next Saturday morning, I walked the three miles to Charlie’s house and knocked on thre family’s huge back door…

 Charlie hustled me to the bedroom door as soon as possible. I peered into the room, big enough for at least a horse and a bed. Charlie pointed to what he called “horse prints” on the floor. I couldn’t see them but I took his word.

Soon after, the National Park Service acquired Charlie’s house and hundreds of surrounding acres as the nucleus of America’s first national historical park. I learned the house belonged to the Wick Family during the American Revolution and the “girl” of Charlie’s tale was Temperance (“Tempe”) Wick.

Sadly (in my opinion), I also learned that while Tempe had a horse, there was absolutely no evidence that a horse had ever been hidden inside the house. Charlie’s story was not true, however traditional and accepted it has become. It is the park’s most enduring legend…

I remain thankful to Charlie for introducing me to the girl with the horse, however fictional; it gave me a sentimental attachment to Jockey Hollow…”      

2025: Crossroads of the American Revolution Website - Temperance Wick - Crossroads of the American Revolution

The Crossroads of the American Revolution Heritage Area website includes small biographies of New Jersey people during the American Revolution. The biographies are written from a first-person perspective. Their information about Tempe is all correct, and thankfully, they have Tempe denying the story.

Poster drawing of Tempe and her horse in front of the Wick House, from Temperance Wick - Crossroads of the American Revolution.

“Temperance Wick

1758 – 1822

I was a farm girl and a witness to two of the harshest encampments of the war.

I was the youngest of five children in the Wick family, born in 1758. We had one of the largest farms in the area of Morristown, New Jersey. We had 1,400 acres with stands of oak and walnut timber, a large apple orchard, and fields of barley, oats and flax.

By the time of the War of Independence, I was the only child still living on the farm. In January 1777, following the victories at the Battles of Trenton and Princeton, the Continental Army encamped in our area. Major Joseph Bloomfield, who would later be the Governor of New Jersey, stayed with us for several months recovering from illness.

Three winters later, the army returned, and it turned out to be the coldest winter anyone could remember. The soldiers cut down several hundred acres of our wood to build huts and for firewood to keep warm. Major General Arthur St. Clair and two aides stayed in our house.

And then, the following winter, a group of soldiers from the Continental Army called the Pennsylvania Line became so upset by the lack of supplies that they mutinied and got ready to march to Princeton. Later stories say that I hid a horse in our house to prevent them from taking it, though as a farm girl who knows about manure and other things, I’m not sure I’d bring a horse into the house! Eventually, the war was won and these hardships came to an end. At the age of 30, I married William Tuttle, an army soldier, and I lived until April 26, 1822.”

Present Day: “Temperance Wick,” Wikipedia.Whoever wrote this Wikipedia entry made some mistakes about the Wick family and the Horse story. But the author does include a disclaimer at the end about historical accuracy.

On December 21, 1780, Henry Wick died, leaving Tempe alone to care for her sick mother Mary and her mentally ill brother Henry [Henry was not living at home anymore. He was married].  When her mother’s condition worsened, Tempe saddled her horse and rode for the home of Doctor William Leddell, who lived about a mile away. The doctor was not present, so Tempe left a message at the Leddell residence and returned home.

Along the way, she was accosted by three mutineers. One grabbed the bridle of her horse, demanding that she give them her mount. Tempe agreed, but when the soldier released the bridle to help her down from the saddle, she whipped her horse and raced for home. She arrived safely, but she feared the mutineers would follow her home and take the horse by force.

According to one version of the story, Tempe led the horse into the house and hid it in a guest bedroom. She closed the shutter over the window and put a feather bed under it to muffle the sound of its hooves. The soldiers arrived soon after and searched the outbuildings, barn, and woods around the house, but left empty-handed. Tempe supposedly kept the horse hidden in the bedroom until New Year’s Day, [The mutiny occurred on New Year’s Day. Her encounter with the mutineers would have been on January 1st or later] when the mutineers marched south to Princeton, New Jersey.

In another version of the story, Tempe hid her horse in the kitchen [never heard this version]. Claims are frequently made that a faint imprint of a horse’s shoe can be seen in one of the bedrooms in the Wick House.

The Wick House at Jockey Hollow still stands and is now a part of the Morristown National Historical Park. Visitors can see the bedroom where Tempe is said to have hidden her horse…

Historical accuracy

Scholars dispute the historical accuracy of her life and the traditions surrounding her role in the Pennsylvania Line Mutiny, but she and her parents are frequently mentioned in extant historical documents from the period, including letters, journals, and receipts.”  

On the Horizon: The Wick House, Wayside Interpretive Sign. We are currently in the planning stages of redoing all the wayside interpretive signs in the park. Because the Tempe Horse Story still crops up, we covered it in one of the signs. We decided to acknowledge the legend but point out that there was nothing to support it, continuing a Morristown NHP tradition in effect since the 1930s.

The new Wick House sign will include the Lt. Reeves quote, in which he stated that Mrs. Wick and her daughter were frightened because soldiers were looking for horses. We also included an illustration of a horse with the caption, “Popular legend claims that Temperance hid her horse in the house during the Pennsylvania Line Mutiny, but there are no primary sources to back up the story.”