The sun., 1916-10-16
VOYAGES AFOOT.
4 Genial Explorer Discovers City
Island and Reports.

Island Reports.
To THE EDITOR OF THE SuN-Sir: At
the intersection Of Wllliamsbridge Dad
and Pelham Parkway a day or two ago
| saw a sign with an arrow pointing n
direction Chateau Laurier. Pavilion
de Danse. city island
City Island? City Island was to me
but a name. terra incognita. would
go on a journey Of discovery. SO I set
a pace that emulated but did not envy
that OF the automobiles on the smooth
asphalt roadway that skirted my foot
path. shut out at times from his oiled
streak Of luxury by a fringe Of trees.
with the robins hopping before you and
a wide stretch OF fields and woods to
your left. you have the illusion OF re-
moteness until you reach the bridge over
East Chester Bay. There the air Is
redolent OF the salt grass OF the
meadows. the red aftermath Of the sun
set etching a fringe OF trees on TIE
horizon. The sunset would ave de-
lighted the artist brush OF McCord, ard
In the waning light the meadow was
sombre mood
can you tell me how far l am from
City lsland"' | asked the little Irish
man at the drawkeeper's house on the
bridge.
Sure I can. I'm an old city Islander
meselr. The policeman in the booth
down the road II put you wise" II was
the cha racteris,ic Celtic way OF impart-
ing knowledge.
"Do you know where | can get some-
thing to cat-the Chateau Laurier?' I
sue zested.
He raised his hands in depreciation.
Don't go TO the Mansion. Sure.
theyll soak you so cints for a san'wich.
Go to the Inn an say Matty Mulligan
sent YOU"
Tccted on the wisdom ~ this advice.
The traffic cop az the point Of the
highway indicated by Ma,'y did pu, me
wise. He was an Adonis in uniform
and wi,hai a pleasant fellow. As I
waited for the trolley car he warned
ne: stand away from that curb. It's
dangerous. Some crazy driver who
thinks of no one besides himself may
swing around the curve and take you off
your feet"
At the end Of the trolley line Is Bel
den's Point. The Sound caressed tho
pehbly shore softly In moonl!t waves.
and the red eye Of Stepping Stone Light
looked at me w%arningly. To the right
Was the Mansion. whence came strains
OF dance music. and to the let, the Inn
with the cheerful clatter Of knives ard
forks. took Matty's advice and chose
the Inn.
The Inn Is an old hip oof farmhouse
OF a hundred years with an arch in the
hallway that discloses a solid mahogany
stair rail. In the "parlor.' which from
the modern requirements OF transient
visitors has been converted into a dining
room. H. a wooden chimney piece that
would arouse the acquisitiveness OF an
antiquary. As | sat awaiting my meal
ana lnusing on the a~ncientness Of the
place with the murmur OF the Sound
waters rhythmically p~unctuatinS my
revery | became suddenly conscious
that | was staring directly at a pretty
girl opposite to me with a party Of six.
\ black velvet turban. a pink knit
sweater over a crepe de chine gulnpc
with an embroidered sailor collar made
her a picture for an artist. | had really
begun TO idealize her until she COM
mencel to eat from the dish Of steamed
clans that was placed in front OF her.
Then the Illusion was shattered. and
from a divinity she dropped to the ordi-
nary level OF the mortal woman who
must feed herself with the medium OF
her own fingers.
THE j.tney stage for the city leaves