been a man of grim purpose and of strong flesh and blood, but never did a man so near our time fade out into the mist more completely than he who first sent the prow of a white man’s ship up past the Palisades and the Highlands. On the Clermont was also a goodly company rigged out in the habiliments of 1807 that still bore something of the lines of the dandies of Paris in the time of the Directory. But it was a man of Robert Fulton’s blood who impersonated the creator of the first steamship that could truly navigate, and that meant that there was Irish blood in him. It was when the procession in the course of the afternoon began to move with our long slim darting torpedo boats escorting the Half-Moon and the Clermont and all the other steam craft following that the true glory of the day began, and as the vessels swung into line heading northward every piston-beat of the engines, every turn of the churning screws and splashing paddles seemed to make a chorus of Fulton! Fulton! Fulton! and in a precious undertone to many a thousand of the onlookers it murmured Ireland! Ireland! Ireland! whence came the brain that had put a heart of giant power into every floating fortress, every giant of the transatlantic trade that the great flotilla passed as it swept up the river. As the little ship of Hudson and the ungainly master-boat of Fulton passed, the fleets of the world saluted them. So they passed up, acclaimed from the banks and the stream, the Half-Moon and the Clermont halting at the picturesque water gate on the Riverside slope for the reception ceremonies where the dignitaries waited from the Governor of New York state down. THE ILLUMINATIONS ON WATER AND LAND. For the rest of those afloat it was a sail nearly to Yonkers before the last of the United States battleships was passed, and the turning point reached. By this time the evening was falling rapidly in a glory of crimson sunset that made the river glow as paven with red gold, the Palisades rising black as ebony against the west, and the lingering rays falling in warm ivory and pale pink on the white house-line of New York on its hills farther down the stream. But as the light paled, and the shadows filled with purple and presently when a misty greyness was coming over all on land and water, another glory began which was to gladden and grow until it made a great picture that perhaps the world had never seen and certainly the world of Columbus and Hudson and Fulton had never witnessed before—the festal lighting on water and on land.