 | DROPPED DOWN AT LONG BRANCH. Saratoga in 1901 |  |
DROPPED DOWN AT LONG BRANCH.
We were astonished at the great change which the thirty
years had made. We looked for the old Continental Hotel. It
was gone. A venerable fisherman came along. I asked him if
he was sure we were at Long Branch. He said he was.
“But where is the Continental, the Mansion House, Howell's,
and those long wooden hotels which used to be here?” I asked.
“O, they went into the ocean years ago. The beach washed
the sea.
“Yes.”
“Well, that rides at anchor about where the West End used to
stand.”
“But what became of the President's cottage?”
“Well, that went with the rest. But the President didn't care.
He was very rich. He had made a good deal of money raising
horses in the White-House yard. By-and-by some one, I believe
Mr. Dana, gave him a fine colt. That colt became a racer, beat
everything in the country, became worth $100,000, and finally
General Grant resigned the Presidency to look after him. You
know Mr. Dana and President Grant made up after the election
in 1872, and they were very warm friends before Mr Dana died.”
“Dana dead!” I exclaimed filled with sorrow, “what killed
him?”
“Well, it is a sad story,” continued the old fisherman, “but I
will tell you about it as near as I can remember.
“You know Mr. Dana had a way of keeping a list of President
Grant's relations in a paper which he then published called the
Sun. Well he kept that list faithfully and well. Every relation
he could hear of he put down. The President kept on having
children—they in turn had other children, and there were a
great many grandchildren.
“Mrs. Grant suggested to the President the propriety of
drowning some of his children.
“But the President said,—`No, other Presidents have had
children—Mr. Adams and Mr. Van Buren, and while perhaps it
would have been better if Mr. Van Buren had drowned his
children, still, on the whole, I think I'll let ours live.'
“So they kept on living and increasing. By-and-by they made
a column—these children and grandchildren did—then two
columns, then a whole page. They took up so much room that
Mr. Dana gave up, first his editorials—then his local news—then
his foreign matter. Then for days and weeks the paper appeared
relations.”
“What then?” I asked deeply interested.
“Well everything went on well, till one day Mr. Dana got a
telegram from St. Louis; `Two more grandchildren for President
Grant.' What could he do? The paper was full. In a
quandary the unhappy man rushed over to the Tribune office
to see old Mr. Ripley, to see if there wasn't room for them in
the encyclopedia. Ripley said `he was sorry, but there was no
place for them.' Then in a fit of remorse, Mr. Dana threw his
scull-cap at Mr. Cummings, pulled a wide-brimmed sombrano
over his eyes, and started for the East River bridge—”
“And jumped off?”
“Nobody ever knew. His clothes were found the next
morning floating on the tide past Fort Hamilton.”
Filled with sorrow, for I loved Mr. Dana, I bade adieu to
what was once Long Branch, mounted the car, and flew
| DROPPED DOWN AT LONG BRANCH. Saratoga in 1901 | |