Country Place

by Peter Selgin

We headed north in the rental car, up the Saw Mill Parkway to 684, past the Brewster exit up Route 22. By now I knew we were spending my birthday weekend somewhere. "A bed and breakfast?" I asked my wife. Paulette held her silence. We climbed further north, past Pawling, Patterson, Dover Plains. At a little town called Amenia, I saw the sign.

We crossed a babbling brook, down and up a dirt drive. There was another sign, this one an historical marker:

Former Home of Myron B. Benton, Poet-Naturalist, Friend of John Burroughs, Emerson and Thoreau

We pulled up in front of a Tudor mansion with stone walls, slate shingles and lead-glass windows. Paulette banged the large brass knocker, shaped like an anchor. A man with straight dark hair, a rolled ascot tie and a pointy face answered. "You must be the Selgins!" he said, with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Welcome!"

He introduced himself, saying he was our host. He was a fidgety, fluttery, wiry bird of a man. Our host gave us a quick tour of the premises while explaining some of its history.

In 1765 the Bentons, an English family, settled the land which they named after their home in the Lake District. There they remained until 1902, when Troutbeck was sold to the Spingarns, who turned the estate into a gathering place (hotbed, some would say) for literati and liberals. The present owners, the first occupants in 35 years, bought the place in 1978. We were shown the cocktail room and the library (stacked with books and an enormous color TV). Then came the game room, the conference room, and two dining rooms swathed in white linen. Each room had no less than one working fireplace.

"Our philosophy here at Troutbeck is that our guests make themselves completely at home," our host encouraged. "Fix yourself a drink, take a book, swim in the pool. Pretend it's your private home in the country.