A tour around New York, and My summer acre; being the recreations of MrFelix Oldboy . that the world of amusement-goers wereas easily pleased. But we have really not yet reached Niblos Gardenin our walk, and the shades of evening begin to fall aswe stand just beyond the stream that once swept downfrom the Collect Pond to the Hudson River and onthe edge of the Lispenard Meadows. Stream andswamp have disappeared, and stately rows of houseshave taken their places, but the old student of NewYorks history knows the ground on which he stands,and it has wonderfully pleasant recollections for
A tour around New York, and My summer acre; being the recreations of MrFelix Oldboy . that the world of amusement-goers wereas easily pleased. But we have really not yet reached Niblos Gardenin our walk, and the shades of evening begin to fall aswe stand just beyond the stream that once swept downfrom the Collect Pond to the Hudson River and onthe edge of the Lispenard Meadows. Stream andswamp have disappeared, and stately rows of houseshave taken their places, but the old student of NewYorks history knows the ground on which he stands,and it has wonderfully pleasant recollections for we will take up our march again. To the Easy Chair of Harper s Magazine, of whomthe writer has pleasant personal memories in connec-tion with the Constitutional Convention of 1867-68, Fe- 72 A TOUR AROUND NEW YORK lix Oldboy desires to return thanks for a most appreci-ative notice in a recent number of that periodical. Itis a double delight to receive such a compliment fromthe author of TJie Potiphar Papers, to whom, in com-mon with a generation of New Yorkers, the writer is. MEADOWS indebted for the most suggestive and brilliant societysketch to which New Yorks literary brain has givenbirth. The pleasure of writing these reminiscences ofa day not yet so distant but that it seems like yester-day is heightened by the interest manifested in manydifferent quarters, and encourages the writer to grasphis pilgrim staff again and proceed upon his tour. A TOUR AROUND NEW YORK 73 CHAPTER VIT THE POETRY OF EVERY-DAY LIFE—A PROTEST AGAINST THE GOTH—MY grandmothers HOME—AN ERA WITHOUT LUXURIES—STATE-LY MANNERS OF THE PAST I HAVE been visited by the Goths and Vandals, andI want to stop right here—in sight of Kalckhook Hilland the Lispenard Swamp—and enter my solemn pro-test against them. Oldboy, said the chief of the invaders, with aVandal familiarity which I detest, for I am old-fash-ioned enough to like to have the Mr. prefixed tomy name, not so much for being
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