248 A SAGA OF THE SEAS 
highest value, but of which it is hard to speak without talking 
platitudes.” Already the old difficulties of communication 
were being forgotten; after a dozen years of cable service, the 
public was taking it for granted—its story was, as the Dean 
said, a ‘‘platitude.”’ 
The Reverend William Adams, old friend of the Fields, 
said of the cable at this dinner: “Though the ear catches no 
articulate words passing along its quivering strands, yet this 
polygot interpreter is speaking now, with tongue of figure, 
beneath the astonished sea, in all the languages of the civ- 
ilized world.” This was a reminder of the wonder and appre- 
ciation that the first cables originally aroused. 
The distinguished Victorian churchman, Dean Stanley, 
who did so much to make Westminster Abbey a British 
shrine, preached in New York during the autumn preceding 
this banquet. At that time he visited Ardsley and spoke of the 
capture and the heroic death of Major André, which had 
taken place in that locality. “The capture of this British spy, 
in his effort to negotiate with Benedict Arnold, had taken 
place near Tarrytown; the execution had been across the Hud- 
son near Washington’s headquarters. The story was that 
Washington had closed his shutters in order not to see the 
hanging. 
The visitors at Field’s house-party proposed that some of 
them cross the Hudson to Tappan and endeavor to find the 
place of execution. These inquiries near Washington’s re- 
puted headquarters failed to reveal the desired information. 
At last an aged resident over ninety years old said that he 
remembered when the body of André was dug up and taken 
to England in 1821. He had stood by when the grave was 
opened and had noticed that the roots of an apple tree were 
growing over the coffin. The tree was found to be still there. 
That evening when the youth and bravery of André were 
discussed again, Field impulsively said to Stanley: “Mr. Dean, 
if you will write an inscription, I will buy the land and put 
