he quaint and
rustic beauty that makes Cooperstown one of the most charming villages
in America.

Following the main street toward the east, one reaches the original part
of the settlement, and the prospect is more gratefully reminiscent of an
old-time village. In summer the gateway of the Cooper Grounds opens a
pleasing vista of shaded greensward, while the cross street which runs
down to the lake at this point attracts the eye to a half-concealed view
of the Glimmerglass, with the Sleeping Lion in the distance at the
north.

The historical associations of the village, from the earliest times, are
centered in the Cooper Grounds. Within this space, when the first white
man came, were found apple trees, in full bearing, which Indians had
planted, showing an occupation by red men in the late Iroquois period.
On these grounds the first white settler, Col. George Croghan, built in
1769 his hut of logs. During the Revolutionary War it was upon this spot
that Clinton's troops were encamped for five weeks before their
spectacular descent of the Susquehanna River. On this site William
Cooper, the founder of the village, built his first residence, and
afterward erected Otsego Hall, which later became the home of his son,
James Fenimore Cooper, the novelist.

[Illustration: THE COOPER GROUNDS]

Beyond the Cooper Grounds, on the main street, the buildings seen on
either hand belong to the earlier period of village history, except the
Village Club and Library, which gracefully conforms to the older style.
After passing the next cross-street, the main thoroughfare leads across
the Susquehanna River, and, beyond the bridge, becomes identified with
the old road to Cherry Valley. Keeping on up the incline, one finds
Mount Vision rising before him, and begins to gain fascinating glimpses
into the grounds of Woodside Hall, whose white pillars gleam amid the
pines above the Egyptian gate-tower, and whose windows, commanding the
whole length of the main street westward, reflect the fire of every
sunset.

Just before reaching Woodside, one observes a road which makes off from
the highway at the right, and runs south. Opening from this road to
Fernleigh-Over, and quite close to the corner, is a small iron gate that
creaks between two posts of stone. The gate opens upon a path which
leads, a few paces westward, to a large, terraced mound, well sodded,
and topped by two maple trees.

Sunk into the face of this mound is a slab of granit