Literary New York . the farwest side, the journeyer comes towide, tree-lined West End Avenue,and there at Ninety-third Street, al-most upon the shores of the HudsonRiver, in a locality of beautiful homes,Brander Matthews, author of Vign-ettes of Manhattan and A ConfidentTo-morrow, lives and works. Re-turning down-town on the westerlyside of the city, stop just beyondAmsterdam Avenue and Eighty-sixth351 Literary New York Street before a house, colonial as toits doors and windows at least, thehome of that distinguished naval offi-cer and writer, Captain A. T. the nearest corner is the c
Literary New York . the farwest side, the journeyer comes towide, tree-lined West End Avenue,and there at Ninety-third Street, al-most upon the shores of the HudsonRiver, in a locality of beautiful homes,Brander Matthews, author of Vign-ettes of Manhattan and A ConfidentTo-morrow, lives and works. Re-turning down-town on the westerlyside of the city, stop just beyondAmsterdam Avenue and Eighty-sixth351 Literary New York Street before a house, colonial as toits doors and windows at least, thehome of that distinguished naval offi-cer and writer, Captain A. T. the nearest corner is the churchwhere funeral services were held overPaul du Chaillu when his body wasbrought back from Russia. Down afew streets, John Denison ChampHn,author and encyclopaedist, has hishome, in a yellow apartment house,and half a block along Seventy-eighthStreet stands the terra cotta building occupied byStedman be-fore he movedto toS i x t y - fi f t hStreet now, adozen stepsor more westof CentralPark, Edgar. Lawrence * /foust Some W riters of To-Day Fawcett conceived A Romance ofOld New York, before going toEurope for an indefinite stay. In Thirty-fourth Street, midway be-tween Seventh and Eighth Avenues,visit the solid little brick house, withgreen shutters and an air of dignitythat proclaims it of another has stood for three quarters ofa century and at one time had noneighbors. There, until 1898, whenhe went to Princeton, Lawrence Hut-ton gathered his collection of objectsartistic from all parts of the world;there he kept his assortment of deathmasks; there he wrote and enter-tained his friends, authors, actors, menof different callings. Let. the last step be to that re-minder of old Chelsea Village, inTwenty-third Street beyond NinthAvenue, called London Terrace. TheTerrace was built when Chelsea wasreally a village, and exists to-day *53 Literary New York long after the village has ceased tohave an identity. One house in therow. No. 413, is particul
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