Claremont, at the end of Riverside Drive, near the tomb of General Grant, suggests in a rather humble way what these mansions were, and in a very magnificent way what their outlooks were. Others linger, desecrated, here and there, closely pressed by new-laid brick and stone. And away up at the extreme tip of Manhattan there are still a few quiet, shady places which may call themselves suburban in the old and honorable sense. But everywhere else around the outskirts of Manhattan the term has gained an unattractive, hybrid meaning. To speak it with pleasure, New-Yorkers must apply it to those remoter regions which can be reached only by a railway journey of considerable length. And then it is incorrectly applied, for a real suburban place is rural in aspect, but urban in convenience — private, green, and peaceful in itself, yet close in touch with the true self of the town. …
“a real suburban place is rural in aspect, but urban in convenience — private, green, and peaceful in itself, yet close in touch with the true self of the town.”
That’s a great description!
Nice find. How did you happen to browse through an issue of The Century Magazine from 1897?
What on earth else would I be doing than browsing through an issue of The Century Magazine from 1897?