and no one the same, and all
of us talking bad French together!"

It was soon after this that the city began cutting up old lots into
new, and turning what had been solitary country estates into
gregarious suburbs and, soon, metropolitan sections. Among other
strange performances, they levelled the hills of New York--is it not
odd to remember that there once were hills, many hills, in New York?
And right and left they did their commissioner-like best to cut the
town all to one pattern. Of course they couldn't, quite, but the
effort was of lasting and painfully efficacious effect. They could not
find it in their hearts, I suppose, to raze Richmond Hill House
completely,--it was a noble landmark, and a home of memories which
ought to have given even commissioners pause,--and maybe did. But they
began to lower it--yes: take it down literally. No one with an
imaginative soul can fail to feel that as they lowered the house in
site and situation so they gradually but relentlessly permitted it to
be lowered in character. It is with a distinct pang that I recall the
steps of Richmond Hill's decline: material and spiritual, its
two-sided fall appears to have kept step.

A sort of degeneracy struck the erstwhile lovely and exclusive old
neighbourhood. Such gay resorts as Vauxhall and Ranelagh Gardens had
encroached on the aristocratic regions of Lispenard's Meadows and
their vicinity. Brannan's Gardens were close to the present crossing
of Hudson and Spring streets. And--Richmond Hill did not escape! It
too became a tavern, a pleasure resort, a "mead garden," a
roadhouse--whatever you choose to call it. It, with its
contemporaries, was the goal of many a gay party and I am told that
its "turtle dinners" were incomparable! In winter there were sleighing
parties, a gentleman and lady in each sleigh; and--but here is a
better picture-maker than I to give it to you--one Thomas Janvier, in
short:

"How brave a sight it must have been when--the halt for
refreshments being ended--the long line of carriages got
under way again and went dashing along the causeway over
Lispenard's green meadows, while the silvered harness of the
horses and the brilliant varnish of the Italian chaises
gleamed and sparkled in the rays of nearly level sunshine
from the sun that was setting there a hundred years and more
ago!"

The secretary and engineer to the commissioners who cut up, levelled
and made over New