With the removal of these well-known figures the Bowling Green suffered a distinct social loss; and when Stephen Whitney, who was a near neighbour of the Murrays, died in 1861, the prestige of its wealth departed, for Mr. Whitney was the richest man in New York, with the exception of some members of the Astor family. From that date the Bowling Green began to assume a business character, and the homes of the Bloommaerts and Murrays no longer sheltered their descendants. Lawrence Bloommaert, the son of Captain Christopher Bloommaert, remained a while in the house of his grandfather, Judge Gerardus Bloommaert, but his family were all girls, and they married and scattered through the Madison Square district, and even still further north. Leonard and Sapphira’s three sons had fine homes in the Murray Hill locality, and their only daughter Sapphira, who had married the eldest son of Peter Bloommaert, was in 189--living in a spacious mansion on the Riverside Drive. She was born in 1827, and therefore at the period of these reminiscences nearing seventy years of age. But she still kept the dew of her youth, and her children and children’s children filled her splendid home with the living splendour of youth and beauty and affection. She was sitting alone one night in the fall of 189--. She looked a little weary, her figure drooped slightly, her hands lay as motionless as if they were asleep; but there was a flush of excitement on her cheeks, and her eyes were full of dreams. She was seeing with them, but seeing nothing within their physical horizon. They had backward vision at this hour, and she smiled faintly at the scenes they flashed before her memory. In a short time the door was noiselessly opened, and a much younger woman entered. She came toward the elder one with a slow, easy grace, and taking her passive hands between her own said: “Mother, you have wearied yourself. I fear you have been foolish to-day.” “No, no, Carlita,” was the quick response. “I have had a happy day. I am glad I took my desire. I did not expect you. It is a _Faust_ night; why are you not at the opera?” “The opera will not miss me. Gerard has gone with the little Van Sant girl; and of course Agatha Van Sant will be present. I do not suppose the conductor would lift his baton until he saw Mrs. Agatha Van Sant enter her box; then, he would nod his satisfaction, and say with a lordly air, ‘Let the opera commence.’ I shall see enough of opera this winter; and I want so much to hear about your expedition. What time did you start?” “About eleven o’clock. Gerard wanted to go with me, but I wished to be alone. There was really no danger. Dalby knows the city, and the horses obey his word or touch. I went to my old home. I was in every room of it.” “It must be much changed.”