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it stand as a memorial, or in its place build a durable monument to the old and good men of New York who sleep beneath it. But let them sleep! Our condemnation applies to all the removals of down-town churches and

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church-yards which have taken place or are now going forward. There is no excuse for it, nor any palliation of the offense against propriety. If the Consistory intend to build a chapel in place of the North Dutch Church, let

them build it; but let not a spade-full of the dust of the fathers be sold for gold.

In the spring of 1867 the STUYVESANT PEAR-TREE, then

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1867.

THE STUYVESANT PEAR-TREE

in its two hundred and twentieth year, put forth blossoms for the last time. This tree was planted on Governor Stuyvesant's farm in 1647, and stood at the

corner of Third Avenue and Thirteenth Street, where it was cherished by all familiar with its history as the last visible link which connected the present generation directly with the time of the Dutch dynasty.*

1868.

In 1868 the widening of the Bloomingdale road into the new Boulevard, by the Park Commissioners, caused the removal of still another venerable landmark. This was an old house on Broadway, between Seventy-fifth and Seventy-sixth Streets, which possessed greater historical interest than was generally known even to those living in its immediate vicinity. It was here that Louis Philippe, of France, taught school during his residence in America, and the room in which his classes were held remained until the building was torn down, in nearly the same condition as during his occupancy of it. This quaint old house was erected some time previous to the Revolution, although no accurate record of its age can be found. The original deed of transfer was executed in 1796, but the house is known to have been considerably older than this, as it was standing several years previous to the sale of the farm.

It was a low two-story frame house with brick ends, covering a space fifty by eighty feet square, substantially built and habitable, though it had not been occupied for the past thirteen years. A steep, sloping, shingle roof extended from the eaves of the porch in front to the extreme rear kitchen, with dormer windows to light the upper rooms. In the interior, on either side of the central hall, were parlors and sitting-rooms, with low ceilings and narrow doorways. The wood-work in the rooms was finished with an elaborate care not seen in the houses of this class at the present day. There were corner cupboards with

*Since the fall of the tree, however, a promising shoot from the ancient stock has taken its place, and shows a hardy vigor which may yet enable it to rival its progenitor in age.

carved and paneled doors, quaintly ornamented window casings, immense fire-places, surbases finished with a profusion of molding, and doors that seemed to have been put together like a Chinese puzzle. The stairs were narrow and steep, turning squarely at each platform, instead of winding, as in more modern houses. Around the fireplace in the school-room of the exiled King was a row of blue and white Antwerp tiles, ornamented with pictures from the New Testament, with the chapter and verse to which they referred indicated in large characters beneath. These were probably the last that remained in New York of the historical Dutch tiles that were once so fashionable. This venerable mansion, which was probably the oldest in the city, was formerly the homestead of the Somerindike family, who once owned nearly all the surrounding part of the island not included in the extensive Harsen estate.

The beginning of 1869 was marked by the occurrence of five separate events. These are, first, the removal of yet another landmark-the old NEW YORK HOSPI* TAL; second, the blotting out of the beautiful St. John's Park, by the erection of the huge and unsightly

1869.

The New York Hospital was founded, as stated in a former chapter, in 1770, during the administration of Governor Dunmore, and was then a mile in the open country. It is a question whether the authorities of New York, in consenting to the removal, have not made a very serious mistake; and also, whether the number of elegant iron stores erected on its site at all compensate for its loss. Aside from any sentimental reasons why it should have been allowed to remain, there is one which should have been conclusive against it, viz. that the lower part of the city is thus left destitute of any place to which injured persons can be brought for relief. Situated, as it was, in the most bustling portion of the city, this Hospital received more casual patients than any other. Women and children run over in the press of the street; laborers injured while employed in the new buildings constantly going up in the vicinity; warehouse porters bruised or sprained while handling packages and casks; -all invariably found in it a comfortable asylum, and received the best of medical and surgical attendance. Now, however, the nearest hospital is Bellevue, more than three miles distant from the Battery-a long way to carry a patient prostrated, it may be, with sun-stroke or broken bones. We do not

freight depot of the Hudson River Railroad; third, the extension of Church Street from Fulton to Morris Streets, and the opening of Pearl Street through the Hospital grounds; fourth, the tearing down of numerous old and dilapidated buildings, and the erection in their places of costly and imposing business and private structures; and

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fifth, the removal of the courts and civil offices from the City Hall to the New Court House.

The extension of Church Street removes many objectionable places, breaks up a number of dens of iniquity, and puts in their stead some really fine structures. Directly in the rear of Trinity Church the "tumble

know how efficient police-surgeons may be as a rule, but we do know that in some instances they live miles away from the precinct to which they are attached, and if, as it is said, the station-houses are unprovided with medical appliances, a physician, called in hurriedly in an imminent and deadly crisis, may find his best efforts frustrated for want of proper means.

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