He has two monuments at Oak Hill Cemetery, both located in Chapel Hill, Lot 608.
From A Portrait of Old George Town
by Grace Dunlop Ecker
And then up to the northeast corner of Gay (N) and Congress (31st) Streets, to the tall yellow house, now an apartment house. For many years it was at the home of the Snyders. Dr. John M. Snyder died at the age of 36, in the enjoyment of a fine reputation in his profession, of an unusual accident.
The story is told by Dr. Samuel Busey, in his Personal Reminiscences:
Dr. Snyder had bought a farm called Greenwood a little way out of town toward Tenallytown, and one afternoon at Dr. Busey's home, Belvoir, now the Beauvoir School, was telling Dr. Busey how he was enjoying pruning the old oak trees on his place of dead wood. Dr. Busey warned him that he was engaging in a dangerous amusement and related the story of how a hired man of his, doing such a job, had had a bad fall, but, fortunately, without injury.
Two or three days later, Dr. Busey was summoned to Greenwood, where he found Dr. Snyder dying from just such an accident. The branch of the tree he had been sawing off was hanging by a splintered sliver, too weak to support its weight and, in swinging to the ground, had knocked away the ladder on which Dr. Snyder was standing.
His wife was Sophy Tayloe, a member of the well-known family of the Octagon House in Washington and beautiful old Mount Airy in Virginia. As a widow in her old age, she had a steady admirer, a General, who came every afternoon at the same time in his Victoria and took her to drive. I can see her now, a small, slight figure in her cape and little black bonnet tied under her chin and holding one of those quaint little ruffled sunshades to keep the sun out of her eyes.
She had one daughter, Miss Annie, who had the loveliest rosy cheeks (no rouge in those days), who never married. One son, Bladen, was an artist and he used to be a familiar sight with his camp-stool and easel on the streets, painting. Georgetown was not so arty in Bladen Snyder's day, unfortunately, so he was considered very odd. The other son, Dr. Arthur Snyder, was a fine surgeon and an ardent horseman.
Not long ago I was being shown photographs of belles and beaux of the eighties and nineties in Georgetown. Among them were several pictures of the crews of the Columbia Boat Club, and one of the four was young Dr. Snyder, whose home this was.
From A Portrait of Old George Town
by Grace Dunlop Ecker
And then up to the northeast corner of Gay (N) and Congress (31st) Streets, to the tall yellow house, now an apartment house. For many years it was at the home of the Snyders. Dr. John M. Snyder died at the age of 36, in the enjoyment of a fine reputation in his profession, of an unusual accident.
The story is told by Dr. Samuel Busey, in his Personal Reminiscences:
Dr. Snyder had bought a farm called Greenwood a little way out of town toward Tenallytown, and one afternoon at Dr. Busey's home, Belvoir, now the Beauvoir School, was telling Dr. Busey how he was enjoying pruning the old oak trees on his place of dead wood. Dr. Busey warned him that he was engaging in a dangerous amusement and related the story of how a hired man of his, doing such a job, had had a bad fall, but, fortunately, without injury.
Two or three days later, Dr. Busey was summoned to Greenwood, where he found Dr. Snyder dying from just such an accident. The branch of the tree he had been sawing off was hanging by a splintered sliver, too weak to support its weight and, in swinging to the ground, had knocked away the ladder on which Dr. Snyder was standing.
His wife was Sophy Tayloe, a member of the well-known family of the Octagon House in Washington and beautiful old Mount Airy in Virginia. As a widow in her old age, she had a steady admirer, a General, who came every afternoon at the same time in his Victoria and took her to drive. I can see her now, a small, slight figure in her cape and little black bonnet tied under her chin and holding one of those quaint little ruffled sunshades to keep the sun out of her eyes.
She had one daughter, Miss Annie, who had the loveliest rosy cheeks (no rouge in those days), who never married. One son, Bladen, was an artist and he used to be a familiar sight with his camp-stool and easel on the streets, painting. Georgetown was not so arty in Bladen Snyder's day, unfortunately, so he was considered very odd. The other son, Dr. Arthur Snyder, was a fine surgeon and an ardent horseman.
Not long ago I was being shown photographs of belles and beaux of the eighties and nineties in Georgetown. Among them were several pictures of the crews of the Columbia Boat Club, and one of the four was young Dr. Snyder, whose home this was.
He has two monuments at Oak Hill Cemetery, both located in Chapel Hill, Lot 608.
From A Portrait of Old George Town
by Grace Dunlop Ecker
And then up to the northeast corner of Gay (N) and Congress (31st) Streets, to the tall yellow house, now an apartment house. For many years it was at the home of the Snyders. Dr. John M. Snyder died at the age of 36, in the enjoyment of a fine reputation in his profession, of an unusual accident.
The story is told by Dr. Samuel Busey, in his Personal Reminiscences:
Dr. Snyder had bought a farm called Greenwood a little way out of town toward Tenallytown, and one afternoon at Dr. Busey's home, Belvoir, now the Beauvoir School, was telling Dr. Busey how he was enjoying pruning the old oak trees on his place of dead wood. Dr. Busey warned him that he was engaging in a dangerous amusement and related the story of how a hired man of his, doing such a job, had had a bad fall, but, fortunately, without injury.
Two or three days later, Dr. Busey was summoned to Greenwood, where he found Dr. Snyder dying from just such an accident. The branch of the tree he had been sawing off was hanging by a splintered sliver, too weak to support its weight and, in swinging to the ground, had knocked away the ladder on which Dr. Snyder was standing.
His wife was Sophy Tayloe, a member of the well-known family of the Octagon House in Washington and beautiful old Mount Airy in Virginia. As a widow in her old age, she had a steady admirer, a General, who came every afternoon at the same time in his Victoria and took her to drive. I can see her now, a small, slight figure in her cape and little black bonnet tied under her chin and holding one of those quaint little ruffled sunshades to keep the sun out of her eyes.
She had one daughter, Miss Annie, who had the loveliest rosy cheeks (no rouge in those days), who never married. One son, Bladen, was an artist and he used to be a familiar sight with his camp-stool and easel on the streets, painting. Georgetown was not so arty in Bladen Snyder's day, unfortunately, so he was considered very odd. The other son, Dr. Arthur Snyder, was a fine surgeon and an ardent horseman.
Not long ago I was being shown photographs of belles and beaux of the eighties and nineties in Georgetown. Among them were several pictures of the crews of the Columbia Boat Club, and one of the four was young Dr. Snyder, whose home this was.
From A Portrait of Old George Town
by Grace Dunlop Ecker
And then up to the northeast corner of Gay (N) and Congress (31st) Streets, to the tall yellow house, now an apartment house. For many years it was at the home of the Snyders. Dr. John M. Snyder died at the age of 36, in the enjoyment of a fine reputation in his profession, of an unusual accident.
The story is told by Dr. Samuel Busey, in his Personal Reminiscences:
Dr. Snyder had bought a farm called Greenwood a little way out of town toward Tenallytown, and one afternoon at Dr. Busey's home, Belvoir, now the Beauvoir School, was telling Dr. Busey how he was enjoying pruning the old oak trees on his place of dead wood. Dr. Busey warned him that he was engaging in a dangerous amusement and related the story of how a hired man of his, doing such a job, had had a bad fall, but, fortunately, without injury.
Two or three days later, Dr. Busey was summoned to Greenwood, where he found Dr. Snyder dying from just such an accident. The branch of the tree he had been sawing off was hanging by a splintered sliver, too weak to support its weight and, in swinging to the ground, had knocked away the ladder on which Dr. Snyder was standing.
His wife was Sophy Tayloe, a member of the well-known family of the Octagon House in Washington and beautiful old Mount Airy in Virginia. As a widow in her old age, she had a steady admirer, a General, who came every afternoon at the same time in his Victoria and took her to drive. I can see her now, a small, slight figure in her cape and little black bonnet tied under her chin and holding one of those quaint little ruffled sunshades to keep the sun out of her eyes.
She had one daughter, Miss Annie, who had the loveliest rosy cheeks (no rouge in those days), who never married. One son, Bladen, was an artist and he used to be a familiar sight with his camp-stool and easel on the streets, painting. Georgetown was not so arty in Bladen Snyder's day, unfortunately, so he was considered very odd. The other son, Dr. Arthur Snyder, was a fine surgeon and an ardent horseman.
Not long ago I was being shown photographs of belles and beaux of the eighties and nineties in Georgetown. Among them were several pictures of the crews of the Columbia Boat Club, and one of the four was young Dr. Snyder, whose home this was.
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