Greenwich Village

								

Washington Square North. Father Knickerbocker, coming to smoke his
pipe here, will be in good company, you perceive!
The recollections of many living persons who recall the old Square and
other parts of early New York, bring forcibly to us the realisation of
the speed with which this country of ours has evolved itself. In one
man's lifetime, New York has grown from a small town just out of its
Colonial swaddling clothes to the greatest city in the world. These
reminiscences, then, are but memories of yesterday or the day before.
We do not have to take them from history books but from the diaries of
men and women who are still wide-eyed with wonder at the changes which
have come to their city!
"The town was filled with beautiful trees," says one man (who
remembers Commodore Vanderbilt, with the splendid horses, the fine
manner and the unexampled profane eloquence), "but the pavements were
very dirty. Places like St. John's Park and Abingdon Square were quiet
and sweet and secluded. Where West Fourth Street and West Eleventh
Street met it was so still you could almost hear the grass grow
between the cobblestones! Everything near the Square was extremely
exclusive and fashionable. Washington and Waverly places were very
aristocratic indeed."
Waverly Place, by the bye, got its name through a petition of select
booklovers who lived thereabouts and adored Sir. Walter Scott. It
speaks well for the good taste of the aristocratic quarter, even
though the tribute came a bit late,--about twenty years after
"Waverley" was published!
The celebrated north side of the Square was called, by the society
people, "The Row," and was, of course, the last word in social
prestige. But, for all its lofty place in the veneration of the world
and his wife, its ways were enchantingly simple, if we may trust the
tales we hear. In the Square stood the "Pump With The Long Handle,"
and thence was every bucketful of washing water drawn by the
gilt-edged servants of the gilt-edged "Row"! The water was, it is
said, particularly soft,--rain, doubtless,--and day by day the pails
were carried to the main pump to be filled!
When next you look at the motor stages gliding past the Arch, try,
just for a moment, to visualise the old stages which ran on Fifth
Avenue from Fulton Ferry uptown. They were very elaborate, we are
told, and an immense improvement on the old Greenwich stagecoaches,
and the great lumbering vehicles that conveyed travellers along the
Post Road. These new Fifth Avenue stages were brightly painted: the
body of the coach was navy blue, the running gear white, striped with
red, and the lettering and decorations of gold. A strap which enabled
the driver to open and close the door without descending from his seat
was looked upon as an impressive innovation! Inside, there were oil
paintings on panels, small candles in glass boxes for illumination,
and straw on the floor to keep your feet warm. These luxuries