AGED 76 YEARS, 7 MO. AND 25 DAYS [Illustration: Old Dutch Church. Tarrytown. 1699.] North of the church and on both sides of the Post Road are the remains of the one-time Beekman forest, whose thickets once served the deer for a cover. So long ago as 1705 it was necessary to enact game laws for the protection of these animals, which were even then in a fair way to being exterminated. [Sidenote: _ST. MARY'S CHURCH._] The six miles to Ossining are largely made up of handsome estates lining both sides of the road. Here and there nature still litters the earth with weeds and bushes, or the farmer tends his crops, leaving a fringe of wild things to border his domains, but as a general thing such inelegancies are suppressed, and the roadside is ordered with the same precision as are the lands on the other side of the wall. Those pleasant little friendships with unkempt nature are not so frequent as we find them further on. However, while there is little "delight in disorder" there are many beautiful places belonging to those favored with an abundance of this world's goods. Such names as Gen. John C. Fremont, Anson G. Phelps, Gen. James Watson Webb, Aspinwall and others are or have been of this region. Some two miles before we come to the village of Ossining stands St. Mary's Church, erected in 1850. Surrounded by tall trees, the little edifice looks as though it might be some mysterious "church in the wood" of a medieval romance, and one almost expects to see a little bridal party dash up on horseback with no time to lose, in the belief that the grim old father is close on their heels. We naturally think of a church as a centre of population, but here is a quaint little building which the traveler comes on unexpectedly in a patch of woods by a rather lonely stretch of road. The temptation to turn aside and investigate is strong until, the wind rubbing one tree trunk against another, a long groan is heard that sends a cold shiver down the inquisitive's back and damps his ardor for discovery. After all it's best out in the bright open road where the birds sing and the sun dispels all thought of gloom. [Sidenote: _OSSINING._] Ossining, "a stony place," was variously written Sin-sing, Sing Sing, Sin Sinck and Sink Sink. Spelling was an incident in those days, not an art. Here again we must fall back on Irving for our facts. He says: "A corruption of the old Indian name O-sin-sing. Some have rendered it O-sin-sing, or O-sing-song, in token of its being a great market town, where anything may be had for a mere song. Its present melodious alteration to Sing Sing is said to have been made in compliment to a Yankee singing master who taught the inhabitants the art of singing through the nose." The Indian village here bore the same name before the Dutch appropriated the country.