al thing
such inelegancies are suppressed, and the roadside is ordered with the
same precision as are the lands on the other side of the wall. Those
pleasant little friendships with unkempt nature are not so frequent as
we find them further on. However, while there is little "delight in
disorder" there are many beautiful places belonging to those favored
with an abundance of this world's goods. Such names as Gen. John C.
Fremont, Anson G. Phelps, Gen. James Watson Webb, Aspinwall and others
are or have been of this region. Some two miles before we come to the
village of Ossining stands St. Mary's Church, erected in 1850.
Surrounded by tall trees, the little edifice looks as though it might
be some mysterious "church in the wood" of a medieval romance, and one
almost expects to see a little bridal party dash up on horseback with
no time to lose, in the belief that the grim old father is close on
their heels. We naturally think of a church as a centre of
population, but here is a quaint little building which the traveler
comes on unexpectedly in a patch of woods by a rather lonely stretch
of road. The temptation to turn aside and investigate is strong until,
the wind rubbing one tree trunk against another, a long groan is heard
that sends a cold shiver down the inquisitive's back and damps his
ardor for discovery. After all it's best out in the bright open road
where the birds sing and the sun dispels all thought of gloom.

[Sidenote: _OSSINING._]

Ossining, "a stony place," was variously written Sin-sing, Sing Sing,
Sin Sinck and Sink Sink. Spelling was an incident in those days, not
an art. Here again we must fall back on Irving for our facts. He says:
"A corruption of the old Indian name O-sin-sing. Some have rendered it
O-sin-sing, or O-sing-song, in token of its being a great market town,
where anything may be had for a mere song. Its present melodious
alteration to Sing Sing is said to have been made in compliment to a
Yankee singing master who taught the inhabitants the art of singing
through the nose." The Indian village here bore the same name before
the Dutch appropriated the country.

No very important events of Colonial or Revolutionary history are
recorded in immediate connection with the town, though it is related
that here is still preserved a small cannon known as "Old White," said
to be the one which, at Teller's Point, compelled the British Vulture
to slip her moorings and so leave Andre in the lurch.