It is now about seventy years since this place was the seat of a hospital for the small-pox. At that period the kinepox, since employed to check the most fearful and formidable disease that ever afflicted mankind, was unknown. The only mitigation of small-pox was obtained by inoculation, which produced the disease in a milder form. Those who caught it by infection, or had it the natural way, to use the common phrase of that period, were always supposed to be in imminent danger of losing their lives. The hospital of Duck island was therefore resorted to by persons who wished to be inoculated for the small-pox. The reason for selecting such a situation was, that no danger of the infection could arise when there were no inhabitants near. The island itself was originally a barren, sandy knoll, without trees; but the proprietor, Dr. Joinly, had taken pains to cultivate and embellish it, and, at the time of which we speak, it possessed a fertile and inviting aspect. Two large and handsome buildings, with a variety of out-houses, were erected upon the island, and furnished accommodations for the patients of the hospital. The establishment had acquired great reputation, arising from the high professional standing of the proprietor, and the admirable manner in which it was conducted. Nearly a hundred patients were constantly in the hospital, which, with the necessary attendants, made the little island seem like a small city in the midst of the sea. It might seem that an institution so benignant in its operation should find shelter even from the ravages of war; but it was not so. The revolutionary struggle commenced in 1775, and soon pervaded the whole country. The British fleet, under Lord Howe, fled from Boston in the spring of 1776, and in the course of the summer, after severe fighting, New York fell into the hands of the enemy. Long Island Sound was soon occupied by British ships of war. The hospital on Duck Island was respected for a time,――as much, perhaps, from a fear of infection, as from sentiments of humanity. But this at last fell a victim to the ruthless spirit which animated the foe. A British ship of war was one day passing near the island. In mere wantonness she opened her battery, and the deadly cannon shot came ploughing up the soil and rending the out-buildings of the hospital. All within the establishment was instantly converted into confusion and uproar. The sick patients leaped from their beds and fled screaming through the passages; while shot after shot now struck the houses, and, piercing them through and through, rendered the whole a scene of indescribable terror and misery. Two or three children were killed, and their blood was spattered upon the walls of the rooms where patients lay, too sick to move from their beds. Some expired from fright, while others, almost naked, and wasted to a shadow, leaped up in frenzy and went raving forth into the open air.