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Updated: June 5, 2025
Wrenn drew nearer and looked sympathy. "I'm afraid I'm getting gushy. Miss Hartenstein she's in my department she'd laugh at me.... But I do love birds and squirrels and pussy-willows and all those things. In summer I love to go on picnics on Staten Island or tramp in Van Cortlandt Park." "Would you go on a picnic with me some day next spring?" Hastily, "I mean with Miss Proudfoot and Mrs.
You would only have to keep out of our quarrels, attend to our luggage and make some notes in the conference." So it happened that Jack went to Philadelphia with Mr. Adams, and, after two days at the house of Doctor Franklin, set out with the two great men for the conference on Staten Island. He went in high hope that he was to witness the last scene of the war.
Leaving the beach with only six dollars, he reached South Amboy penniless, with six horses and three men, all hungry, still far from home, and separated from Staten Island by an arm of the sea half a mile wide, that could be crossed only by paying the ferryman six dollars. This was a puzzling predicament for a boy of twelve, and he pondered long how he could get out of it.
The New-York Courier and Enquirer of the 19th of September gives the following account of his funeral. From the Courier and Enquirer. "On Friday morning, the 16th of September, the body of the late Colonel Aaron Burr was put on board a steamboat at Staten Island, and conveyed, with a number of his friends and relatives, from New-York to Amboy.
And, indeed, it did seem strange to lie there alongside Staten Island all that day, with New York town so nigh at hand and yet so impossible to reach.
On a bench sat a quiet, rather dejected man, whom March asked some question of their way. He answered in English, and in the parley that followed they discovered that they were all Americans. The stranger proved to be an American of the sort commonest in Germany, and he said he had returned to his native country to get rid of the ague which he had taken on Staten Island.
"Do you or do you not maintain a luxurious apartment in Gramercy Park, when you are not down here posing in your attic as an honest working-man?" "Oh, see here, Mrs. Staten, I won't stand for that!" he expostulated. "You know perfectly well I keep my room here because it's the only place I can work in quietly "
During the first three weeks of my confinement the deep silence that prevailed about me had led me to adopt the opinion that I was the occupant of a maison de santé. I had once driven past one on Staten Island, where a friend of my father's about whose condition he came to inquire personally had been immured for years.
There was soon to be a "Staten Island" both in the frozen circles of the northern and of the southern pole, as well as in that favoured region where now the mighty current of a worldwide commerce flows through the gates of that great metropolis of the western world, once called New Amsterdam.
But personally I'd rather be here." "It is very like England," I agreed, as he broke in. "Sure," he said. "I was just thinking as I came up the hill. I come from Hertfordshire myself. Very like the Northern Heights." "We always think," I answered, "that it is like Essex." He pondered for a moment, enjoying his pipe. "Well, it is," he decided. "You mean looking over Staten Island to the sea?
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