. He
caused the day to be kept with many of the ancient usages, to the great
satisfaction of the younger members of the household. He was fond of
observing particular days and seasons, and marking them by some pleasant
custom of historical significance--for with all the ancient customs and
rites and pastimes pertaining to them he was as familiar as if they were
matters of to-day. It distressed him even to tears when, last Christmas,
he found that his health did not allow him to make the journey to Fishkill
as usual. He made much of the birthdays of his grandchildren, and taught
them to observe that of Shakespeare by adorning the dwelling with the
flowers mentioned in those aerial verses of the Winters Tale--

"daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses
That die unmarried," &c., &c.

For many years past he had divided his time pretty equally between
Fishkill and New York, visiting the homestead in the latter part of the
week and returning in time to attend the weekly meetings of the
Commissioners of Emigration. While in the country he was a great deal in
the open air, superintending the patrimonial estate, which he managed with
ability as a man of business, giving a careful attention, even to the
minutest details. But he was most agreeably employed in his large and well
stored library. Here were different editions of the Greek and Latin
classics, some of them rare and enriched with sumptuous
illustrations--thirty different ones of Horace and nearly as many of
Virgil. With the Greek tragedians he was as familiar as with our own
Shakespeare. In this library he wrote for the Crayon his entertaining
paper on Garrick and his portrait, and his charming little volume
entitled "Twelfth Night at the Century Club." Here also he wrote several
papers respecting the true interpretation of certain passages in Virgil,
which were published in the 'Evening Post.' It is to be regretted that he
did not collect and publish his literary papers, which would form a very
agreeable miscellany. He seemed, however, almost indifferent to literary
fame, and when he had once sent forth into the world an essay or a
treatise, left it to its fate as an affair which was now off his hands. On
Sunday morning he was alway at the old church in the village of Fishkill,
one of the most