The Turnpike Road, 113 



by-gone year, and you remember all of the winter storms, 

 and marvel that these fragile beings should have survived 

 among the rocks on the hill-side. 



When the butterflies leave their winter dwellings, then 

 mankind leave their dwellings too, and many an unfortu- 

 nate fellow creature labors with his goods on the Turnpike 

 road. It is amusing from an ultra-social point of view, to 

 see him moving. He stands in front of his house among 

 all his effects. He inspects a chair and then a table, and 

 is very solicitous concerning an old leather bag acquired in 

 his youth. It is as the actions of a squirrel; as if he 

 came out of his nest with a shaving in his mouth, and said : 

 " Sir, this is part of my bed, I would have you know that 

 I have property." But it is well to be solicitous concern- 

 ing an old leather bag or a shaving; we must love some- 

 thing or languish as an unhappy member of the school of 

 despair. 



The stage coach once rumbled along the Turnpike, 

 carrying passengers and mail across the Island to the 

 New Blazing Star landing on the Sound. It was one of 

 the highways between New York and Philadelphia, and no 

 doubt many Van Cortlands, De Peysters and Bleeckers 

 admired the autumnal tints, or the greenness of spring, as 

 they jogged along the serpentine hills. 



The boulders by the roadside, and a few old houses, 

 are the surviving monuments of the time, for with one of 

 two exceptions the ancient trees have been cut down. But 

 the Turnpike has still the same trend, and we may wander 

 from bay to kill, on the journey that has so often been per- 

 formed. But alas, our simple experiences do not bring all 



