We know the Saw Mill has had nothing to be nitid about for generations.

I described the wreck of the flagship, her husband's body preserved at the wheel, and the cross trees sparkling and dripping with nitid ice.

The many indignities suffered by the Saw Mill include being dissed by an untalented, though earnest, poet in 1891: 'Tis now, at Yonkers's spreading feet, A flow with odorous sins replete; Its nitid bosom has become A snake-like yellow scrawl of scum.