The inmgo of my grandfather, associated as it is with the old homestead, and with his flow of talk while occupying his easy-chair upon the piazza, where he was wont to enjoy one of the finest of landscapes, taking within its scope Hunter's Island, I'elliam Creek, the expanse of Long Island Sound, has never become dim ; so that he has ever represented to me the ideal ' grandpa ' of poetry or song, of fiction or graphic art, as pictured by Sir Walter Scott or ' Peter Parley.' Tims has ho ever been to me in thought ' a living presence,'

although the obtruding question as to the pos,sibilitie8 of a baby brain will put itself over and over again like a mocking puzzle.

" l)esi)ito the puzzle, the fact assorts itself. From the viow-point occupied at the lime of this writing, March, 1882, looking hack to the la-st sickness and to the funeral services at Pelham and New Rochelle, the succession of years and order of events are clearly traced by memory and substantiated as a personal history. There is no break in the outline, although numy things, thoughts, word.s, deeds may be missed from 'the filling up.'

" But now, while occupying the old church-yard as a retrospective view-point, it seems noteworthy that the fii-st advent of death into the household, and this first funeral that shadowed the path of my young life, cannot be desoriliod without the Joining of two olil town names, French and Kiiglish, New Koi hollo and Pelham. Thus, too, looking upon the head-stones that memorialize the many graves in this ' (<od'8 Acres,' as the old lOnglisli called the consecrated burial-ground, we notice the alterations or intermingling of Knglish and French surnames, denoting the quick fusion of Fnglish and French blood in the homes of the early settlei's nearly two centuries ago.