ll
take the time and turn to the left as he enters the town, he will be
shown upon inquiry the house of Judge Beach (3), which is the same old
manor-house in which Washington signed the treaty of peace with Great
Britain in 1783.
Returning from Judge Beach's house to the main road again, the wheelman
passes north out of Dobbs Ferry, and after travelling a half-mile, turns
to the right, runs a quarter of a mile further and turns to the left,
and the road is then direct to Irvington. It will well pay him to take
the road following the valley down towards the Hudson westward, and stop
a moment to see "Sunnyside" (4), the home of Washington Irving. Pulling
back to the main road, again up a hill, the wheelman will find the road
from here to Tarrytown, about two miles in length, well supplied with
hills.
On running into Tarrytown and inquiring for the road to the station,
which runs westward downhill, a rider can put up at the Mott House near
the river. Three courses are then open to him. He may either take the
train back, if the ride has been sufficiently long already, or he may
return by the same road, or on going up to the turnpike-road again,
turning left northward, he will come after a few hundred yards to the
Andre monument (5), which every bicycle rider who reaches Tarrytown
should not fail to see. Turning back again southward, he may take the
alternative road back to Yonkers. He may then take the main turnpike,
which he passed over early in the day, or, following the alternative
road marked on the chart, may come down through Riverdale and the
villages along the bank of the Hudson, meeting the Kingsbridge road at
Kingsbridge again.
NOTE.--Already published. Map of New York city, No. 809.
[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address
Editor.
"Tell you what books I read when I was a little girl?" Molly E---- asks
the question. Why, I am delighted to answer you, Molly. I am very fond
of the little girl I used to be a long time ago. I can see her now,
merrily going to school, day after day, along a river road bordered by
tall willow-trees, crossing a bridge, and reaching a pretty little
school-house, with windows giving on the pleasant life of a river, which
all the year round was beautiful in the children
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