The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-02-10


 not miss them, ones are left :. Seems to me Will liam Allen White, Sage of Em- poria, is having a birthday about now . Greetings, Bill, and may you never start growing old White stays at the National Arts Club when he visits New York, and there I have often visited with him Yes, and I had a nice letter from Henry J. Allen, of Wichita and Topeka, the other day, saying he'll call me for a meal next time he's in town. Most Americans confuse White and AL len, and many give up trying to remember which Is which. They say, "Oh, skip 1t; they're practi- cally the same anywayl" But they're not really bit alike |. Definitely" is definitely on the way out but "streamlined' is still rather overworked x. and the ostrich who is supposed to hide his head in the sand will be always with us, though no ostrich in the world ever did so silly a thing w. J. Francis, Miami, tells how he once took frostbite out of his feet with lime, cooled after slaking with cold water. Thanks, but I'm going to try to keep away from frostbite from now on Orson Welles prob- ably Is one of those fellows I'll like when I get acquainted with him. But just from seeing his plays and catching glimpses of him around town, he strikes me as a spoiled boy, showing off a trifle more than needed.
 There is an old house on the west side of Lexington avenue, number 362, that is being pre- served in much of its original charm. It Is thee stories and attic, quaint within and without. You'd know by a glance that it must have an interesting history.
 On the front door, curiously set back from the sidewalk, the pres- ent lessee has had the name in- scribed: Westervelt House. It was built in 1850 by Jacob Oaron Wes- tervelt, shipmaster, shipbuilder, importer, merchant, Mayor of New York.
 The building is now entirely oc- cupied by an antique business, operated by James Amster, whose sign advertises Antiques and El- egancies." MT. Amster has tried to restore the old house to a condi- ton similar to that prevailing when the Westervelts occupied it. He has succeeded in rounding up lot of interesting history about the family, and few relics.
 A facade decoration, about the level of the second story, is a wooden figure of a woman's head. This was taken from an old clip per ship, built and operated by Westervelt, and the present own- CT has labeled 1t Ann" Now, Ann was the Westervelt daughter. She owned the old home until her death at the age of 90, in 1913.
 Whether the head really repre- sented Ann or not, nobody will ever know, but it's a pleasant fancy.
 used to believe that Ann was merely pun, representing an im- aginary Ann Tique, and I'm told that most persons who enter the shop are under that impression. But the Amster organization takes the history of the house very seriously, and conducts an endless search for materials and data re- lating to this interesting old New York family. They have found that the first Westervelt came here in 1900.
 Walter Lamb, English born in- terior decorator, has gone into the business with MT. Amster, and has succeeded in uncovering al- most enough Westervelt history to make good book. He has learned, too, that there used to be flower garden in front of the house, where Lexington avenue now runs. The present main entrance was the basement entrance, covered by wide steps that led up to the second and main floor.
 Few such old houses are pre- served in the commercial din or Manhattan any more. It's refresh- ing to find someone in business who has a wholesome respect for the past and its "elegancies."
 Our Captain Kidd is desolate when he sees bags being packed for a joruney. He sniffs the bags, and immediately knows which member of the household is de- parting. I couldn't make the poor fellow understand that I was off on a short motor trip, and would be back in a day or two, this time. He lay down beside my suitcase, watched every item that went into 1t, and looked miserable.
 When he had an opportunity, he followed me, sat beside my chair, licked my hand gently, and looked at me with mournful eyes. While I'm away he will, as usual, carry one of my bedroom slippers around, lying at night with his chin on it, between his forepaws. Do you wonder that I went to court and defended Captain when the police wanted to kill him? Copyright. 1889. McNaught