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tradition； which no one had ever taken the trouble to verify； averred that
Washington had once lived there； which made that hero very real to us。
The picturesque old house stood high on a slope where the land rises
boldly； with an admirable view of distant mountain； river and opposing
Palisades。
The new Riverside drive （which； by the bye； should make us very
lenient toward the men who robbed our city a score of years ago； for they
left us that vast work in atonement）； has so changed the neighborhood it is
impossible now for pious feet to make a pilgrimage to those childish
shrines。 One house； however； still stands as when it was our nearest
neighbor。 It had sheltered General Gage； land for many acres around had
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belonged to him。 He was an enthusiastic gardener； and imported； among a
hundred other fruits and plants； the 〃Queen Claude〃 plum from France；
which was successfully acclimated on his farm。 In New York a plum of
that kind is still called a 〃green gage。〃 The house has changed hands many
times since we used to play around the Grecian pillars of its portico。 A
recent owner； dissatisfied doubtless with its classic simplicity； has painted
it a cheerful mustard color and crowned it with a fine new MANSARD
roof。 Thus disfigured； and shorn of its surrounding trees； the poor old
house stands blankly by the roadside； reminding one of the Greek statue in
Anstey's 〃Painted Venus〃 after the London barber had decorated her to his
taste。 When driving by there now； I close my eyes。
Another house； where we used to be taken to play； was that of
Audubon； in the park of that name。 Many a rainy afternoon I have passed
with his children choosing our favorite birds in the glass cases that filled
every nook and corner of the tumble…down old place； or turning over the
leaves of the enormous volumes he would so graciously take down from
their places for our amusement。 I often wonder what has become of those
vast IN…FOLIOS； and if any one ever opens them now and admires as we
did the glowing colored plates in which the old ornithologist took such
pride。 There is something infinitely sad in the idea of a collection of books
slowly gathered together at the price of privations and sacrifices； cherished；
fondled； lovingly read； and then at the owner's death； coldly sent away to
stand for ever unopened on the shelves of some public library。 It is like
neglecting poor dumb children！
An event that made a profound impression on my childish imagination
occurred while my father； who was never tired of improving our little
domain； was cutting a pathway down the steep side of the slope to the
river。 A great slab； dislodged by a workman's pick； fell disclosing the
grave of an Indian chief。 In a low archway or shallow cave sat the skeleton
of the chieftain； his bows and arrows arranged around him on the ground；
mingled with fragments of an elaborate costume； of which little remained
but the bead…work。 That it was the tomb of a man great among his people
was evident from the care with which the grave had been prepared and
then hidden； proving how； hundreds of years before our civilization；
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another race had chosen this noble cliff and stately river landscape as the
fitting framework for a great warrior's tomb。
This discovery made no little stir in the scientific world of that day。
Hundreds came to see it； and as photography had not then come into the
world； many drawings were made and casts taken； and finally the whole
thing was removed to the rooms of the Historical Society。 From that day
the lonely little path held an awful charm for us。 Our childish readings of
Cooper had developed in us that love of the Indian and his wild life； so
characteristic of boyhood thirty years ago。 On still summer afternoons； the
place had a primeval calm that froze the young blood in our veins。
Although we prided ourselves on our quality as 〃braves；〃 and secretly
pined to be led on the war…path； we were shy of walking in that vicinity in
daylight； and no power on earth； not even the offer of the tomahawk or
snow…shoes for which our souls longed； would have taken us there at
night。
A place connected in my memory with a tragic association was across
the river on the last southern slope of the Palisades。 Here we stood
breathless while my father told the brief story of the duel between Burr
and Hamilton； and showed us the rock stained by the younger man's life…
blood。 In those days there was a simple iron railing around the spot where
Hamilton had expired； but of later years I have been unable to find any
trace of the place。 The tide of immigration has brought so deep a deposit
of 〃saloons〃 and suburban 〃balls〃 that the very face of the land is changed；
old lovers of that shore know it no more。 Never were the environs of a city
so wantonly and recklessly degraded。 Municipalities have vied with
millionaires in soiling and debasing the exquisite shores of our river； that；
thirty years ago； were unrivalled the world over。
The glamour of the past still lies for me upon this landscape in spite of
its many defacements。 The river whispers of boyish boating parties； and
the woods recall a thousand childish hopes and fears； resolute departures
to join the pirates； or the red men in their strongholds … journeys boldly
carried out until twilight cooled our courage and the supper…hour proved a
stronger temptation than war and carnage。
When I sat down this summer evening to write a few lines about happy
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days on the banks of the Hudson； I hardly realized how sweet those
memories were to me。 The rewriting of the old names has evoked from
their long sleep so many loved faces。 Arms seem reaching out to me from
the past。 The house is very still tonight。 I seem to be nearer my loved dead
than to the living。 The bells of my lost 〃Is〃 are ringing clear in the silence。