Reluctantly the
fire is extinguished, and the wide, hospitable door of Slabsides
closes behind us.
Riverby, "the house that Jack built," as the builder boasted, is
a house interesting and individual, though conforming somewhat to
the conventions of the time when it was built (1874). It is as
immaculate within as its presiding genius can make it, presenting a
sharp contrast to the easy-going housekeeping of the mountain cabin.
We tarry a few minutes in the little bark-covered study, detached from
the house and overlooking the Hudson, where Mr. Burroughs does his
writing when at home; we see the rustic summer-house near by, and the
Riverby vineyards, formerly husbanded by "the Vine-Dresser of Esopus,"
as his friends used to call him; now by his son Julian, who combines,
like his father before him, grape-growing with essay-writing.
A pleasant hour is spent in the artistic little cottage, planned and
built by the author and his son, where live Mr. Julian Burroughs and
his family. Here the grandfather has many a frolic with his three
grandchildren, who know him as "Baba." John Burroughs the younger
is his special pride. Who knows but the naturalist stands somewhat
in awe of his grandson?--for as the youngster reaches for his
"Teddy," and says sententiously, "Bear!" the elder never ventures
a word about the dangers of "sham natural history.
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