LONG ISLAND. 61 



ran periodically. Into the yielding sand the wheels cut 

 deeply, and the journey, short as the distance was, seemed 

 slow and tedious. Those who now gain easy access to either 

 side by the railroad facilities provided, have small conception 

 of the discomforts of the olden time. It is difficult to realize 

 the magnitude of the improvements made. Once across the 

 line that circumscribes these wastes, and the scene changes, 

 as if bv magic, to one of thrift and plenty. Bursting barns, 

 capacious farm-houses, and smiling fields attest the exuber- 

 ance of the soil. City merchants and gentlemen retired 

 from business have seized upon the choicest spots within a 

 distance of fifty miles from town, and made them attractive 

 with every modern innovation and appliance. Even portions 

 of the barren wastes, which were regarded of trifling value, 

 have been reclaimed, and now " bloom and blossom as the 

 rose." On every hand are stately mansions, back from whose 

 well-kept lawns and embowering shrubbery stretch acres of 

 farm, garden and nursery, all under highest cultivation. 

 There are conservatories filled with rarest plants. Graperies 

 blushing in their fulness of purple and crimson, expose their 

 crystal facades to the southern sun. There are trout ponds, 

 whose cost to form was by no means insignificant, with ar- 

 bors and kiosks dotting their grassy banks, wild-fowl dis- 

 porting along their margins, and pleasure-boats floating list- 

 lessly at their moorings. There are princely barns and car- 

 riage-houses, and stables filled with imported stock. Sub- 

 urban mansions of the city have been set down quietly 

 among the antiquated houses, quaint mills, shops, and coun- 

 try stores of the primitive inhabitants. New ideas and 

 modes of dress and living have been sown among the simple- 

 minded, yet there seems no jealousy or clash of interests. The 

 thrifty housewife in cap and gown and guileless of hoops, 

 looks out from beneath the yellow ears of corn and strings 

 of dried apples hung on her tenter-hooks, to the modern im- 

 provements of her neighbor, and sighs not for his flesh-pots 

 or his finery. Her " old man," in rustic garb and cowhides, 



