[Footnote 18: In describing some of the characteristic features of Long Island, Smyth, the traveler already quoted, mentions what seemed to him "two very extraordinary places." "The first," he says, "is a very dangerous and dreadful strait or passage, called _Hell-Gates_, between the East River and the Sound; where the two tides meeting cause a horrible whirlpool, the vortex of which is called the Pot, and drawing in and swallowing up every thing that approaches near it, dashes them to pieces upon the rocks at the bottom.... Before the late war, a top-sail vessel was seldom ever known to pass through Hell-Gates; but since the commencement of it, fleets of transports, with frigates for their convoy, have frequently ventured and accomplished it; the Niger, indeed, a very fine frigate of thirty-two guns, generally struck on some hidden rock, every time she attempted this passage. But what is still more extraordinary, that daring veteran, Sir James Wallace, to the astonishment of every person who ever saw or heard of it, carried his Majesty's ship, the Experiment, of fifty guns, safe through Hell-Gates, from the east end of the Sound to New York; when the French fleet under D'Estaing lay off Sandy Hook, and blocked up the harbor and city of New York, some ships of the line being also sent by D'Estaing round the east end of Long Island to cruise in the Sound for the same purpose, so that the Experiment must inevitably have fallen into their hands, had it not been for this bold and successful attempt of her gallant commander." The other spot was Hempstead Plains, which presented the "singular phenomenon," for America, of having no trees.] Vastly changed to-day is all this region, which was now to be disturbed by the din and havoc of war. Its picturesqueness long since disappeared. Upon Manhattan Island, the city's push "uptown"-ward has been like the cut of a drawing knife, a remorseless process of levelling and "filling-in." Forty times in population and twenty in area has it expanded beyond the growth of 1776. Brooklyn is a new creation. Would its phlegmatic denizen of colonial times recognize the site of his farms or his mills? Even the good Whig ferryman, Waldron, might be at a loss to make out his bearings, for the green banks of the East River have vanished, and its points become confused. The extent of its contraction he could learn from the builders of the bridge, who have set the New York pier eight hundred feet out from the high-water mark of 1776, and the Brooklyn pier two hundred or more, narrowing the stream at that point to a strait of but sixteen hundred feet in width. * * * * *