6i 



Bridge, about where the present Third Avenue Bridge stands, 

 but one road lay before him, — Coles Road, now Third Avenue. 

 If by this route the poet Drake was proceeding to Hunt's 

 Point, he must have proceeded by this same road to where 

 now, as in the old days, Westchester Avenue branches off to 

 the right, then proceeded along that avenue to the old road 

 which ran from West Farms to Hunt's Point, and then turn- 

 ing sharply back, taken that road to the Leggett home. Partly 

 over this same route, either by stage-coach or upon steeds, 

 the traveler to Boston went, when he did not avail himself 

 of the somewhat more leisurely but perhaps more comfortable 

 method, of water craft, which favoring breezes sent on and 

 unfavorable winds retarded as they moved along the waters 

 of Long Island Sound. 



The Motts had not yet come to Mott Haven; the-Lorillards 

 had not come to West Farms ; the names of other families 

 destined to become the foremost of the region, its leading 

 citizens, and its benefactors, were as yet unknown. 



To him who in the love of Nature would hold communion 

 with her Various forms, old West Farms and Westchester, 

 and indeed Morrisania and Kingsbridge must have presented 

 alluring charms. The place was full of natural beauty undis- 

 turbed by the hand of man. From the time that saffron-hued 

 morn appeared in the east until the azure robe of night spread 

 over everything, every hour, indeed every minute, to the ob- 

 servant presented some new combination of beauty, — new 

 lights, new shades never seen before and never to be seen 

 again. 



And now how different the scene ! Where then w r ere quiet 

 country roads, hoof deep with dust in summer, hub deep with 

 mud in winter, few and far between, are the broad and regular 

 streets of a great city. W 'here then in 



The middle watch of a summer's night; 



The earth was dark but the heavens were bright; 



where glimmered and died the fire-fly's spark, and the stari 



