The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1896-08-13

NEW YORK'S Widest SPOT.
A Bit of Wilderness that Touches
the Old Boston Road.
New York's widest spot is not the
Hemlock Gorge in Bronx Park, nor
yet the wide expanse of meadow
swamp and Woodland that the buffalo
are to occupy in Van Cortlandt Park,
but green and tortuous lane in the
newly annexed district. This lane is
about three-quarters of a mile long,
and to enter it is like plunge into
the primitive wilderness. 1t has the
general form of a siphon, whose longer
leg has several sharp kinks. 1t leaves
the old Boston road at point almost
exactly on the old boundary line be-
tween the former townships of West
Chester and East Chester. It runs
northward and northeastward for
nearly two-thirds of its length to the
gate of the old Seton place, long fam
Gus in those parts, and then takes a
sharp turn and runs southeastward
until it again comes to the Boston road
at a point about 800 yards from the
original point of entrance.
The first $50 yards of the lane is
we'll worn, as it leads to large farm
house. 1t seems to the ordinary OBJ
server to end at the farm gate, for
everything beyond is green sward and
dense shrubbery. But the persistent
explorer finds that the shrubbery
parts to let them pass along a grass
grown cart track, and this cart tract
is continuation of the lane. 1t is
easy going to pedestrian, and the
lane is not impossible to a carriage.
1t runs for perhaps 500 yards through
thicket-like growth of blackberry
bushes, wild rose, sweetbriar, clematis,
spicewood, sassafras, dogwood, gnarl
ed apple trees, young oaks, and tulip
trees, and a wilderness of Towering
wild plants. High, rocky fields rise
on either hand above the lichened and
vine-clad stone walls that enclosed the
the lane, and the steep and rocky way
has all the aloofness of a mountain
wood road hundred miles from any
centre of population. No sound
reaches the ear save the rushing of
the wind through neighboring wood
land, the brawling of a brook at the
foot of the lane, and the call of wild
birds-the robin, the wood thrush,
the highhole, the scarlet tanager, and
even the quail. The foliage meets
overhead for much of the way, and
there are three or four points where
the lane seems to end abruptly at an
impossible barrier of green boughs.
These obstacles triumphed over, the
wanderer seems about to plunge into
the depth of a dead woodland, while
naught is visible save the. sky oyer
head and the surrounding greenery.
Small torrents rush in springtime over
the bare rocks that so much of the
way form the roadbed. The Seton
farm gate is near the lowest point of
the lane, and just within the gate runs
a brook. that parallels the lane, thence
to the point where it again meets the
old Boston road. This part of the
journey is bordered on one side by
the rich, low meadow through which
the stream flows, on the other by
dense shrubbery and high rocky fields,
wonderfully charming in their mea-
greness by contrast with the luxuriance
of the meadow. Within twenty feet
of the Boston road the lane crosses
the brook by rude bridge. The lane
for the whole distance is thickly car
peted with grass, save where the bare
rock crops out.
There is no more seductive vista
than that presented by the lane where
it leaves the Boston road. The short
| meadowed track seems to end in green