But the many abandoned country houses which are not especially historic or significant--except to certain old persons to whom they once meant home--goodly old places, no longer even near the country, but caught by the tide well within the city, that is the kind to be sorry for. Nobody pays much attention to them. A forlorn For Sale sign hangs out in front, weather-beaten and discouraged. The tall Colonial columns still try to stand up straight and to appear unconscious of the faded paint and broken windows, hoping that no one notices the tangle of weeds in the old-fashioned garden, where old-fashioned children used to play hide-and-seek among the box-paths, now overgrown or buried under tin cans.... Across the way, perhaps, there has already squatted an unabashed row of cheap, vulgar houses, impudent, staring little city homes, vividly painted, and all exactly alike, with highly ornamented wooden stoops below and zinc cornices above, like false-hair fronts. They look at times as though they were putting their heads together to gossip and smile about their odd, old neighbor that has such out-of-date fan-lights, that has no electric bell, no folding-beds, and not a bit of zinc cornicing. Meanwhile the old house turns its gaze the other way, thinking of days gone by, patiently waiting the end--which will come soon enough. [Illustration] Transcriber's Notes: Simple typographical errors were corrected. Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. Page 8, first line: "manifestations of the spirit" could be "or". End of Project Gutenberg's New York Sketches, by Jesse Lynch Williams