country almost Dutch in aspect. It is seamed with canals and was probably an island originally, for it is still spoken of as Greenwich Island. Along the canals are paths, white and dusty in the summer drought, very soft to walk upon. Great clumps of thick old willows stand up against the low horizon. The light grows less steep as the sun sinks in a powdery haze of rose and orange. In one of the canals, below a high embankment, half a dozen naked boys were bathing, attended by a joyous white dog. In that evening pinkness of light their bodies gleamed beautifully. Through masses of flowering sumac, past thick copses and masses of reeds, over broad fields of bird-song, narrow paths lead down to the river. In the warm savor of summer air it all seemed as deserted and refreshing as some Adirondack pasture. Then one stands at the top of a little sandy bank and sees the great bend of the Delaware. Opposite is the mouth of Timber Creek, Walt Whitman's favorite pleasure haunt. A little lower down is League Island.
One of the most fascinating dreams one could have is of all this broad fen-land as a great city playground. It is strange that Philadelphia has made so little use of the Delaware for purposes of public beauty. A landscape architect would go mad with joy if given the delightful task of planning The Neck as a park. It would take comparatively little effort to drain it properly and make it one of the noblest pleasure grounds in the
