The daily morning journal and courier., 1903-07-17
DESCRIPTIVE ITINERARY
OF THE FORT NATHAN HALE PARK.
Of the "Days That are oIdsn" I'd of the "Years That Have Rolled

I'd of the "Years That Have Rolled
 Away"
 An old time folk who in childhood sat at the knee of his great grand mother and listened to the tales of her youthful days, the days that tried wo-- mans soul. recalls some of them, also his own recollections, for the benefit og many strangers wandering aimlessly over those beautiful bluffs known as the Palisades of Solitary Cove" now called Morris Cove. Solitary indeed in 1639, when Thomas Gregson, with few companions, followed the Indian trail now known as Townsend avenue through the dense forest Of the eastern shore to as beautiful a crescent shore as was ever carved by the hand of na- ture. On the corner by the water just where the trolley turns so suddenly to avoid a saltwater plunge he built log cabin, the first habitation erected on the eastern shore, and shortly after sailed in what is known in New Haven plan tation history as the Phantom Ship for England, which was lost on the pas sage out with all on board In the ear ly manhood of the writer there were but three houses on the shore of the Cove. The widow Pardee's house on the site of the Gregson cabin, and close by the comfortable homestead, with it's cozy shaded porch and it's tall Lombar- ry poplar trees of Captain Samuel Thompson, father of our genial and effi- cient superintendent of parks, Captain Ashael Thompson Then followed the beautiful sandy curve of the shore with its shaded banks to the Widow Forbes house in the, blight of the cove. Then the Morris Manor house burned by our British cousins in the Revolutionary war, but rebuilt within the old walls. For an account in detail of the devas-' fation caused by the mercenaries of the British government under the Generals McGath and Tryon with the storming of Forts Hale and Wooster, see Captain Charles H. Townshend' s account in his book entitled the History of the British Invasion. Our cousins found the Yam kees' squirrel and duck guns had bus mess end, for the red coats dropped by scores from Lighthouse to Five Cor ners.' No walk over. They fought like brave men, long and well. Then on to the Lighthouse. This delightful crescent of beach and rocks was over shadowed by large forest trees growing on its banks. It was dream of rest ful solitude before the overflow of the city stuck in higgilty piggilty those misconceptions known as shore ovens. Even the wild geese and ducks looked upon the cove as a.llaven of rest, for in the fall and spring they settled in the water by thousands, filling the air with their duck calls and cackles. Let me here give the heartfelt thanks of all lovers of nature to the noble men who saved from dissertation this dream of Arcadia, the Nathan Hale Park. Think what might have been to-day if it's bluffs had been covered with those ex- crescents known as shore houses. A tower should be built to their memory; their names cut in the everlasting rocks so future generations may know their benefactors and emulate their example.
 70! for a Billion
 Take the path that leads up the bluff from tine turn of the trolley the cove until you come to the first side. path turning to the left running under the brow of the bluff; look sharp or you Will miss it. There you are at dear old sHoocky Nooke,'' the tryst of the old time boy and girl who languished be- hind the school-room bars and loved nature better than the three R's. Then on to Sun-up Rest, glorious when the sun peeps over the eastern hills, Then on to the Foot Soak, where old Moobboomocko sat and soaked his corns and bunions after his long tramp from the ice regions of sMudjee Keewis to the Soft Shawonda See. Tn my boyhood this shore was covered with thousands of round stones. Quinnipiac traditions say they were worn smooth and round by the PowWawwes Slave devils) in rubbing down the corns and blnions upon old Hoobboomoc feet. Looking down the bluff you see the Powwowwes rock, where the Pows gath cred to Powwow up the storms and gales that delighted old Hoob Boo Mocko. NJ am told by Henry T. Blake. Esq, that the old time phrase Raising Hob is from Hoob Boo Mocko. Now on to the summit of Mount Pisgah. Oht what a scene were here he cried,
 For princely pomp or churchmen's
 pride. s On this bold brow a lardly tower;
 In yon soft vale a ladies bower;
 On wonder meadows far away
 The turrets of a cloister gray. t5 How blithely might the bugle horn {. Chide on the wave the lingering morn How sweet at eve the lovers lute
 Chime when the groves are still and
 mute.
 And when the midnight moon did lave Her forehead in the silver wave,
 How solemn on the ear would come
 The holy mathis distant hum.
 No true lover should miss the most romantic portion of the park, the 'Love Walk. After reaching Mount Pisgaf you will see a path leading down the bluff, known as tAsahel's Love Walk Now Asahel, according to Jew record means made by God" and as we art told God is love, so is this path lovely and no one goes through it without feeling the Influence of it's lovely sur. roundings. In about the middle of this Love Walk is a stone known as tho kissing stone .Caution;'' danger; none ] but true and accepted lovers should