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Updated: June 29, 2025
On the 25th of the same month, Henry Van Wart was born at a pretty village on the banks of the Hudson, called Tarrytown, a place since celebrated as the "Sleepy Hollow" of Washington Irving's delightful book, but at that time remarkable as the scene of one of the most distressing incidents in all the wretched struggle then just over the capture of the unfortunate Major André. Mr.
The wonderful events of the evening had taken place in such rapid order that she had no time to express her happiness to the girl. She opened her arms, and Fledra darted into them. "It's all because you prayed, Sister Ann," she sobbed, "and because you taught me how to pray. Does does Horace know about my new father and mother?" "No, Dear; he left Tarrytown before we ourselves knew.
He was, as I have already hinted, of pugnacious propensities; and, not content with being a patriot at home, and fighting for the security of his own fireside, he extended his thoughts abroad, and entered into a confederacy with certain of the bold, hard-riding lads of Tarrytown, Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, who formed a kind of Holy Brotherhood, scouring the country to clear it of Skinner and Cow-boy, and all other border vermin.
Herds of cattle grazed calmly on the hills, and she could hear the faint tinkling of their bells above the chug-chug of Middy's small steamer ahead. At intervals fleets of barges, pulled along by struggling little tugboats, passed between her and the bank. These would see Tarrytown the promised land of Screech Owl's prophecy, the paradise she had been forced to leave!
Irving was in his best estate of health and spirits, when his mood was of the sunniest, and Wolfert's Roost was in the spring-time of its charms, it was my fortune to pass a few days there with my wife. Mr. The drive of two miles from Tarrytown to that delicious lane which leads to the Roost, who does not know all that, and how charming it is?
She was speculating as to whether or not their guests would have the acumen to leave directly after breakfast. Not for a week did Anthony muster the courage to go to Tarrytown. The prospect was revolting and left alone he would have been incapable of making the trip but if his will had deteriorated in these past three years, so had his power to resist urging. Gloria compelled him to go.
As I came nearer and nearer to the end my hopes ebbed, however. When I was through I had failed to identify a single call that might have been Werner's. Several fares had been driven to and from the Grand Central Station, probably the means by which he made the trip to Tarrytown. In each case the record had shown the Central Park Hotel in the other column, not the Whistler Studios.
Schuyler Van Tassell, of Tarrytown, another bird of passage, who had left her country-seat on the Hudson to spend the winter months in what she called the delights of "upper-tandem." She belonged to an ancient family or, at least, her husband did he was under the sod, poor soul, and therefore at peace and, having inherited his estate a considerable one was to be treated with every distinction.
"I gave my credentials, explained my condition and implored help. "We are retired from the active ministry," the woman said, "and cannot help you. We have no further use for religious books." A third minister atoned for the others, and made a purchase. This was at Tarrytown.
I was not immediately allowed, however, to bask in an atmosphere of harmony, for in October, 1880, the celebrated contest over my ordination took place at the Methodist Protestant Conference in Tarrytown, New York; and for three days I was a storm-center around which a large number of truly good and wholly sincere men fought the fight of their religious lives.
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