sheet of water, "the Sea of Tappan." The river here suddenly expands,
and for the distance of ten miles will average about four miles in
breadth; in many places the water is so shallow, that the helmsman,
his track being already marked out, steers by the direction of posts,
stationed here and there in the river, that he may keep his vessel
free from sand-banks. The shore on each side of us presented a level,
agreeably interrupted in places by the intervention of minor hills,
apparently fertile, and in fine cultivation. The villages of Tappan and
Nyack, a few framed houses and huts scattered irregularly on the western
side, and about one mile from the river, claim the attention of the
traveller. They are situated near the foot of a valley, and overlooked
by some stupendous and abrupt ridges, whose frowning and murky heads
throw a grand and solemn, but somewhat suitable, aspect upon the
landscape of this memorable place. Old Tappan, which consists of only
two or three small houses, and lies a short distance up this valley, was
the place selected for the execution of the once brave, noble-hearted,
patriotic, and accomplished Major André. I was anxious to make a
pilgrimage to the grave of my unfortunate countryman; and, as the
wind was scarcely sufficient to bear us up against a strong ebb-tide,
I easily prevailed on the captain to anchor his charge, and allow the
small boat to go on shore.

Major André, you may recollect, was taken prisoner by the Americans
during the revolution as a British spy. The house or hut in which he was
kept in confinement had only very lately gone into ruins. It was then
a tavern, and its landlord, now extremely old, still resides close by,
and recites the melancholy tale with much affection and feeling. He
witnessed the gentlemanly manners and equanimity of this heroic soldier,
while in his house, under the most trying circumstances, and from its
threshold to the fatal spot. In his room the prisoner could hear the