One of the mutilated landmarks that used to be the pride of those who lived near the banks of the lower Hudson was the jutting shoulder of rock known as Indian Head, nearly the highest point of the Palisades. It was one of those peculiarly striking features in nature that persistently claim and invariably receive the consideration due to eminence. No one seeing the rugged beauty of Indian Head could forget it or refuse to credit any remarkable or romantic legend that chanced to attach itself there. It took its place, without question, in every sketch or photograph of that part of the river as naturally as King Edward would assume in England the chief place at any of^cial function at which he chanced to be present. There is a divine right apper-

From Spiiyten Duy\il to Yonkcrs 201 taining to headlands and other remarkable landscape features, as to kings. But one day a contractor saw something more in Indian Head than any poet or artist had ever seen. He discerned a fortune in it, -- a fortune in gravel. Now to crush a headland -- especially a headland with associations and legends belonging to it, -- into fine fragments, for road-beds, may seem to a certain class of sentimental people to be rather dreadful. It did seem dreadful; but it took the people who really cared so long to wake up to the dreadfulness of what was being done, and so much longer to discover a way to stop it, that before thev could do anything Indian Head was gravel. However, the people succeeded, though apparently with some difficulty, in saving the rest of the Palisades. The blasting and crushing processes which were at once an offence to the ear, the eye, and the aesthetic sensibilities of all good people, were finally interfered with effectually and the stone-crushers remo\'ed to other fields.