e, and on
its site was the City Hotel, the main hostelry of the city. Here the
chief citizens gathered and a banquet was held and all honor paid to
the "illustrious guest, thrice welcome to his native city."

[Illustration: The City Hotel]

From the site of this old house, it is a pleasant walk down Broadway,
past the Bowling Green to Bridge Street, where, at No. 3, Irving,
after his return, went to live with his brother Ebenezer, who had been
the Captain Greatheart of "Cockloft Hall." Here, in this home, Irving
spent many happy days. It was called by him "the family hive," for it
was always filled to overflowing with relatives.

[Illustration:

1. JAMES KIRKE PAULDING.
2. PHILIP HONE.
3. WASHINGTON IRVING.
4. JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
5. FITZ GREENE HALLECK.
6. J. FENIMORE COOPER.]

But one place above all others in New York is filled with the memory
of Irving. This is a bit of ground on the east side of the city, a
point of land stretching out into the river. Here of all places the
spirit of Irving still lingers, for here of all places it is less
changed in appearance since his feet trod the ground. In Irving's day
it was a stretch of countryside with summer houses of the wealthy at
long distances facing the river. Now, though the city has encompassed
it, there is still left the one green spot by the riverside beyond
Eighty-eighth Street. The East River Park they call it, and there are
rough stone steps leading to the waterside, winding paths and
overhanging trees--the trees that Irving stood beneath. And there,
across the stretch of water, is Hell Gate, its tempestuous waters
tamed by the hand of man, but nevertheless the same Hell Gate that
Irving looked upon and that Irving wrote about. Part of this park were
the grounds of John Jacob Astor, the friend of Irving. His house stood
beyond the park, where Eighty-eighth Street now touches East End
Avenue,--a square two-story frame dwelling of colonial type, painted
white, with deep veranda, wide halls, and spacious rooms; set high
upon a hill, backed by a forest of towering trees, and fronted by a
vast lawn stretching by gentle slope to the cliff at the riverside.
Here Irving was a guest, and wrote _Astoria_, telling of Astor's
settlement on the Columbia River and of scenes beyond the Rockies;
here he met Captain Bonneville and his friends, and the journals of
the one and thrilling tales of the other gave material for the
_Adventures of Captain Bonneville_.

The