Last of the Bowery(Special Correspondence.)No longer is the Bowery the place where they say such things and they do such things/* as the old song has It. The zest of the old-time Bowery s one of the show places of New York has departed. From the rural home of the simple and serious-minded Dutch colonists in the time of Peter Stuyvesant, through gradual transition to a post road to Boston bordered by the houses of the prosperous; then the playground of vigorous youth given to freaks of folly and madness; next a camping ground for half-idle and vicious British soldiers sent here to put down the revolution; drifting from that into a half-humorous and half-dreaded portion of the city visited alike by the unsophisticated and the vicious, the Bowery is soon to be turned over to the business building and office skyscraper. The tide has already set in that direction. There was a time, not so long ago, when the Bowery never slept. Nowadays, soon after midnight, it is deader than a doornail.It certaiDly has taken the Bowery a great many years to earn the unenviable reputation it is now striving to get rid of. All sorts of things have happened in the Bowery at one time or another, from robbing innocent hayseeds to burning negroes at the stake. Bouwerie Lane was a series of large, wooded farms in the early history of Manhattan isjand. a sylvan retreat of remarkable beauty. The little Dutch boys whose names are now represented in New York’s oldest families used to rob old Peter Stuyvesant’s orchard in the Bowery. The Roosevelts, the Bayards, the Beekmans and the De Lanceys, the De Peysters, are all represented in the historic annals of the Bowery. The first milestone ever put up down there to guide travelers on the* high road to Boston, was at Riv-ington street, which is just one mile from the city hall. The arrival and departure of the old mail coaches, once a month, was an event of great importance. The good burghers used to gather around them and worry thethey are popularly called, still take tourists up and down the Bowery, by night and by day. There is all the time an army of travelers who are seeing New York for the first time; and they insist upon seeing the Bowery. But it is very much like seeing Pompeii. One must rely upon the imagination and reading to get an idea of the real thing. The days of Harry Hill’s (which was so near the Bowery as to be included In its jovial precincts), of McGuirk’s, of Owney Geog-hegan’s, of Stevenson’s and notorious resorts of that description are nothing but history, now.The “Bowery Boy.”The Bowery Boy, as he was called, first made his appearance in 1799, when a Frenchman named Delacroix leased from John Jacob Astor property extending from Fourth street to Astor place and from the Bowery to Broadway, where he established theIn Old “Suicide Hall.” Vauxhall Gardens. For half a century this was one of the great pleasure resorts of the city. The Bowery boy of those days was more or less of a