"At that period no one doubted the hardiness of the so-called English walnut in America, and as most of the nuts and trees procured for planting came from acclimated stock in Great Britain or the cooler region of Europe, success usually attended such experiments. Our pioneers and horticulturists fully expected that the trees would thrive and bear nuts in abundance, and time has shown that they were not mistaken, although we frequently see it stated at this late day, that the Persian walnut is not hardy north of the latitude of Washington, Philadelphia, or other cities south of New York. "One hundred and thirty-eight years have rolled by since walnut trees were planted at Washington Heights, and at least one of the originals has escaped destruction and holds its head aloft, defying the tempests which frequently sweep over that elevated and exposed spot on Manhattan Island. This veritable patriarch of its race in America is a monster in size, its stem between four and five feet in diameter at the base and more than seventy-five feet high, with wide-spreading branches. "In the summer of 1776 the Battle of Long Island was fought, and the American forces were compelled to retreat in confusion to New York, thence northward up the island; but when they reached Fort Washington, not far from the eleventh milestone on the old Albany post road, they made a stand and proceeded to entrench themselves at that place. This was in September, 1776, and General Washington took possession of the Morris mansion near by, making it his headquarters, and, as this was at the season when the walnuts had reached an edible stage, we may safely presume, from his well-known predilection for such delicacies, that he tested the quality of the Morris walnuts. One hundred and twenty years later I am writing this, with some fresh specimens of nuts before me from that same old tree. "This old patriarch has cast its shade over many a noted person in its time, for in 1810 the Morris estate passed into the hands of Madame Jumel, a lady long famous for her hospitality and the good cheer she extended to the surviving patriots of the Revolution. From 1810 to the time of her death, 1865, Madame Jumel's household always had an abundance of walnuts from the old tree, and one of the workmen on the place informed me that about two cartloads was considered a fair annual crop." It cannot be many years before this old tree will meet the same fate that has overtaken many of its younger contemporaries which were once growing in the neighborhood, for with the rush for building lots and the opening of new streets and avenues, trees are usually in the way, and in such cases even patriarchs are not sacred, nor do they command much respect from our urban population.[2]