when, a decade
later, he died in far-away Tunis, it was felt that he should not be
left in a foreign land. But, although this sentiment was strong, it
was not until 1883 that his body was brought to America. Then, for a
day, the coffin lay in state in the City Hall, in the Governor's Room,
close by a window from which a view could be had of where the old Park
Theatre had stood, just across the stretch of green sward. And the
people, in honor of the man whose one song had thrilled an entire
world, filed past the sealed coffin by the thousands, and shed many a
tear that day.

One of the tortuous streets springing from Broadway, starting close by
Trinity Church, winding away to the east, and mingling with other
streets until brought to an abrupt halt by the river, was called, and
is still called, Pine Street. In the first days of the nineteenth
century it bore no suggestion, save in name, of a forest that once
stretched above the city. In those good old days when the Dutch held
full sway, Cornelius van Tienhoven was the bookkeeper of the West
India Company, and when he married the step-daughter of Jan Jansen
Damen, the bride brought him as dower a slice of this forest. When,
later, a clearing was cut through the wood it was called Tienhoven's
Street. But such a name rang too strongly Dutch for those who served
an English king, and when the English came they quickly called it King
Street. And so it remained until after the Revolution, when, in
remembrance of the Dutch forest, the name was changed to Pine Street.

Now, whether it was pure accident or whether he searched and found the
prettiest street in all the town, it is nevertheless a fact that here
Dr. Elihu Hubbard Smith had fixed his home, scarce more than a block
from Trinity Church, and here he wrote much of his verse. Here, too,
in his house, on many a Tuesday evening, met the Friendly Club, and
at these meetings, following the custom of the club from the time that
Washington lived in the city, each member in turn read a passage from
some favorite author, thus giving impetus to the conversation. In Dr.
Smith's parlor, joining in these discussions, sat William Dunlap,
Charles Brockden Brown, James Kent, Joseph Dennie, and all the writers
of the circle. It was Dr. Smith who wrote the prologue for the Park
Theatre upon its opening, and not a member of the Friendly Club but
attended the first performance.

[Illustration: MAP OF STREETS IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK IN 1827