e,
which was everywhere. In the neighbourhood of these squatter
settlements, of which the largest was Seneca Village, near Seventy-ninth
Street, the swamps had become cesspools and the air was odoriferous and
sickening."

Those hovels of yesterday have made way for the beautiful Park and the
superb mansions that have earned for the eastern stretch of Fifth Avenue
overlooking the Park the title of "Millionaire's Row." There is one
impression of the "Row" which one is bound to take away whether the
point of observation be the top of a passing omnibus or the sidewalk
adjoining the stone wall guarding the boundaries of the Park. That is of
a mysterious unreality, due, perhaps to the shades being always lowered
and the curtains tightly drawn. In considerable excitement an
immaculately garbed little old gentleman was one day seen to descend
hurriedly from the Imperiale of the snorting monster by which he had
designed to travel down to Washington Square. On the sidewalk,
flourishing his cane, he pointed in the direction of a stately palace of
white marble. "It is incredible," he kept repeating, "but I certainly
saw some one come out of that house. I am the original New Yorker, and I
know the thing has never happened before."

As the great lane beyond Fifty-ninth Street is known as "Millionaire's
Row," it could have no more appropriate guarding outpost than the
Metropolitan Club, more generally called the "Millionaire's Club." The
organization was founded in 1891 by members of the Union Club, and the
present white marble club-house, at the north-east corner of Sixtieth
Street, on land formerly owned by the Duchess of Marlborough, was
erected in 1903. The gate to the Park diagonally across from the club,
at Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue, is the Scholars' Gate. The other
gates along the stretch of the Avenue are the Students' Gate, at
Sixty-fourth Street, the Children's Gate, at Seventy-second Street, the
Miners' Gate, at Seventy-ninth Street, the Engineers' Gate, at Ninetieth
Street, the Woodman's Gate, at Ninety-sixth Street, and the Girls' Gate,
at One Hundred and Second Street.

"Park life with us," writes Miss Henderson, "has perhaps become
obsolete; our national breathlessness cannot brook this paradox of
pastoral musings within sight and sound and smell of the busy lure of
money making. Within its gates we pass into a new element; and this
element is antipathetic to the one-sided development imposed by city
life.