Free Ebooks - LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF NEW YORK LIFE;

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF NEW YORK LIFE;
OR, THE SIGHTS AND SENSATIONS OF A GREAT CITY.

BY JAMES D. MCCABE, JR.

[Picture: GENERAL VIEW OF NEW YORK CITY.]

[Picture: GRAND CENTRAL RAILWAY DEPOT.]

[Picture: TITLE PAGE.]

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
OF NEW YORK LIFE;
OR, THE
SIGHTS AND SENSATIONS
OF
THE GREAT CITY.

A WORK DESCRIPTIVE OF THE
CITY OF NEW YORK IN ALL ITS VARIOUS PHASES;

WITH FULL AND GRAPHIC ACCOUNTS OF

ITS SPLENDORS AND WRETCHEDNESS; ITS HIGH AND LOW LIFE;
ITS MARBLE PALACES AND DARK DENS; ITS ATTRACTIONS AND
DANGERS; ITS RINGS AND FRAUDS; ITS LEADING MEN
AND POLITICIANS; ITS ADVENTURERS; ITS CHARITIES;
ITS MYSTERIES, AND ITS CRIMES.

BY JAMES D. MCCABE, JR.,

AUTHOR OF "PARIS BY SUNLIGHT AND GASLIGHT," "HISTORY OF THE WAR BETWEEN
GERMANY AND
FRANCE," "GREAT FORTUNES," "THE GREAT REPUBLIC," ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS FINE ENGRAVINGS OF NOTED PLACES, LIFE
AND SCENES IN NEW YORK.

Issued by subscription only, and not for sale in the book stores.
Residents of any State desiring
a copy should address the Publishers, and an Agent will call upon them.
See page 851.

NATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,

PHILADELPHIA, PA.; CINCINNATI, OHIO; CHICAGO, ILL.;

ST. LOUIS, MO.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
J. R. JONES,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C.

PREFACE.

It is the desire of every American to see New York, the largest and most
wonderful city in the Union. To very many the city and its attractions
are familiar, and the number of these persons is increased by thousands
of new comers every year. A still greater number, however, will know the
Great City only by the stories that reach them through their friends and
the newspapers. They may never gaze upon its beauties, never enjoy its
attractions in person. For their benefit I have written these pages, and
I have endeavored to present to them a faithful picture of the "Lights
and Shadows" of the life of this City, and to describe its "Sights and
Sensations" as they really exist.

This Great City, so wonderful in its beauty, so strange to eyes
accustomed only to the smaller towns of the land, is in all respects the
most attractive sight in America, and one of the most remarkable places
in the world, ranking next to London and Paris in the extent and variety
of its attractions. Its magnificence is remarkable, its squalor
appalling. Nowhere else in the New World are seen such lavish displays
of wealth, and such hideous depths of poverty. It is rich in historical
associations and in treasures of art. It presents a wonderful series of
combinations as well as contrasts of individual and national
characteristics. It is richly worth studying by all classes, for it is
totally different from any other city in the world. It is always fresh,
always new. It is constantly changing, growing greater and more
wonderful in its power and splendors, more worthy of admiration in its
higher and nobler life, more generous in its charities, and more
mysterious and appalling in its romance and its crimes. It is indeed a
wonderful city. Coming fresh from plainer and more practical parts of
the land, the visitor is plunged into the midst of so much beauty,
magnificence, gayety, mystery, and a thousand other wonders, that he is
fairly bewildered. It is hoped that the reader of these pages will be by
their perusal better prepared to enjoy the attractions, and to shun the
dangers of New York. It has been my effort to bring home to those who
cannot see the city for themselves, its pleasures and its dangers, and to
enable them to enjoy the former without either the fatigue or expense
demanded of an active participant in them, and to appreciate the latter,
without incurring the risks attending an exploration of the shadowy side
of the Great City.

To those who intend visiting New York, whether they come as strangers, or
as persons familiar with it, the writer has a word to say, which he
trusts may be heeded. An honest effort has been made in this work to
present the reader with a fair description of the dangers to which
visitors and citizens are alike exposed. For the purpose of performing
this task, the writer made visits, in company with the police officials
of the city, to a number of the places described in this work, and he is
satisfied that no respectable person can with safety visit them, unless
provided with a similar protection. The curiosity of all persons
concerning the darker side of city life can be fully satisfied by a
perusal of the sketches presented in this volume. It is not safe for a
stranger to undertake to explore these places for himself. No matter how
clever he may consider himself, no respectable man is a match for the
villains and sharpers of New York, and he voluntarily brings upon himself
all the consequences that will follow his entrance into the haunts of the
criminal and disreputable classes. The city is full of danger. The path
of safety which is pointed out in these pages is the only one for either
citizen or stranger--an absolute avoidance of the vicinity of sin.

Those who have seen the city will, I am sure, confirm the statements
contained herein, and will acknowledge the truthfulness of the picture I
have drawn, whatever they may think of the manner in which the work is
executed.

J. D. MCC., JR.

NEW YORK,

_March_ 21_st_, 1872

CONTENTS.

I.
THE CITY OF NEW YORK, 33
I. HISTORICAL, 33
II. DESCRIPTIVE AND STATISTICAL, 49

II.
THE HARBOR OF NEW YORK, 59

III.
THE CITY GOVERNMENT, 64

IV.
THE RING, 75
I. THE HISTORY OF THE RING, 75
II. PERSONNEL OF THE RING, 100

V.
BROADWAY, 118
I. HISTORICAL, 118
II. DESCRIPTIVE, 123

VI.
SOCIETY, 135
I. ANALYTICAL, 135
II. FASHIONABLE EXTRAVAGANCE, 141
III. FASHIONABLE FOLLIES, 153
IV. FASHIONABLE CHILDREN, 155
V. A FASHIONABLE BELLE, 157
VI. FASHIONABLE ENTERTAINMENTS, 162
VII. MARRIAGE AND DEATH, 166

VII.
THE MUNICIPAL POLICE, 171

VIII.
THE BOWERY, 186

IX.
PUBLIC SQUARES, 194
I. THE BATTERY, 194
II. THE BOWLING GREEN, 196
III. THE PARK, 197
IV. OTHER PARKS, 200

X.
THE FIFTH AVENUE, 204

XI.
STREET TRAVEL, 211
I. THE STREET CARS, 211
II. THE STAGES, 216
III. STEAM RAILWAYS, 221

XII.
HORACE GREELEY, 225

XIII.
THE TOMBS, 232

XIV.
THE PRESS, 244
I. THE DAILY JOURNALS, 244
II. THE WEEKLY PRESS, 255

XV.
WALL STREET, 258
I. THE STREET, 258
II. THE STOCK EXCHANGE, 264
III. THE GOVERNMENT BOARD, 269
IV. THE GOLD EXCHANGE, 272
V. CURBSTONE BROKERS, 275
VI. THE BUSINESS OF THE STREET, 276
VII. STOCK GAMBLING, 279
VIII. THE WAYS OF THE STREET, 284
IX. BLACK FRIDAY, 290

XVI.
THE FERRIES, 299

XVII.
THE HOTELS, 304

XVIII.
IMPOSTORS, 316

XIX.
STREET MUSICIANS, 324

XX.
THE CENTRAL PARK, 332

XXI.
THE DETECTIVES, 351
I. THE REGULAR FORCE, 351
II. PRIVATE DETECTIVES, 364

XXII.
WILLIAM B. ASTOR, 372

XXIII.
FASHIONABLE SHOPPING, 375

XXIV.
BLEECKER STREET, 386

XXV.
CEMETERIES, 390
I. GREENWOOD, 390
II. CYPRUS HILLS, 391
III. WOODLAWN, 392
IV. CALVARY, AND THE EVERGREENS, 393

XXVI.
THE CLUBS, 394

XXVII.
THE FIVE POINTS, 398
I. LIFE IN THE SHADOW, 398
II. THE CELLARS, 405
III. THE MISSIONS, 412

XXVIII.
THE MILITARY, 422

XXIX.
NASSAU STREET, 426

XXX.
THE METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPARTMENT, 430

XXXI.
THE BUSINESS OF NEW YORK, 441

XXXII.
THE SABBATH IN NEW YORK, 445

XXXIII.
THE POST OFFICE, 448
I. INTERNAL ARRANGEMENTS, 448
II. THE NEW POST OFFICE, 456
III. THE LETTER CARRIERS, 460

XXXIV.
A. T. STEWART, 464

XXXV.
PLACES OF AMUSEMENT, 470
I. THE THEATRES, 470
II. MINOR AMUSEMENTS, 485

XXXVI.
THE MARKETS, 487

XXXVII.
THE CHURCHES, 491
I. THE SACRED EDIFICES, 491
II. THE CLERGY, 498

XXXVIII.
BOARDING-HOUSE LIFE, 502

XXXIX.
THE RESTAURANTS, 508

XL.
THE CHEAP LODGING HOUSES, 511

XLI.
THE LIBRARIES, 513

XLII.
PROFESSIONAL MEN, 519

XLIII.
PROFESSIONAL CRIMINALS, 522
I. THE THIEVES, 522
II. THE PICKPOCKETS, 531
III. THE FEMALE THIEVES, 533
IV. THE RIVER THIEVES, 534
V. THE FENCES, 539
VI. THE ROUGHS, 542

XLIV.
THE PAWNBROKERS, 546

XLV.
THE BEER GARDENS, 550

XLVI.
JAMES FISK, JR., 555

XLVII.
TRINITY CHURCH, 565

XLVIII.
THE HOLIDAYS, 572
I. NEW YEAR'S DAY, 572
II. CHRISTMAS, 577

XLIX.
THE SOCIAL EVIL, 579
I. THE LOST SISTERHOOD, 579
II. HOUSES OF ASSIGNATION, 587
III. THE STREET WALKERS, 589
IV. THE CONCERT SALOONS, 594
V. THE DANCE HOUSES, 597
VI. HARRY HILL'S, 600
VII. MASKED BALLS, 604
VIII. PERSONALS, 611
IX. THE MIDNIGHT MISSION, 614

L.
CHILD MURDER, 618

LI.
THE EAST RIVER ISLANDS AND THEIR INSTITUTIONS, 631
I. BLACKWELL'S ISLAND, 631
II. WARD'S ISLAND, 640
III. RANDALL'S ISLAND, 641

LII.
BENEVOLENT AND CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS, 648

LIII.
HENRY WARD BEECHER, 655

LIV.
BLACK-MAILING, 658

LV.
FEMALE SHARPERS, 662
I. FORTUNE TELLERS AND CLAIRVOYANTS, 662
II. MATRIMONIAL BROKERS, 664

LVI.
EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENTS, 666
I. THE FREE SCHOOLS, 666
II. THE COLLEGES, 671

LVII.
JEROME PARK, 675

LVIII.
COMMODORE VANDERBILT, 677

LIX.
THE BUMMERS, 680

LX.
TENEMENT HOUSE LIFE, 683

LXI.
CHATHAM STREET, 699

LXII.
JAMES GORDON BENNETT, 703

LXIII.
DRUNKENNESS, 706

LXIV.
WHAT IT COSTS TO LIVE IN NEW YORK, 710

LXV.
GAMBLING, 715
I. FARO BANKS, 715
II. LOTTERIES, 726
III. POLICY DEALING, 728

LXVI.
PETER COOPER, 731

LXVII.
THE "HEATHEN CHINEE," 734

LXVIII.
STREET CHILDREN, 738

LXIX.
SWINDLERS, 745

LXX.
ROBERT BONNER, 756

LXXI.
PUBLIC BUILDINGS, 759

LXXII.
PATENT DIVORCES, 768

LXXIII.
CROTON WATER WORKS, 774

LXXIV.
EXCURSIONS, 778

LXXV.
SAILORS IN NEW YORK, 782

LXXVI.
THE BALLET, 789

LXXVII.
THE POOR OF NEW YORK, 796
I. THE DESERVING POOR, 796
II. THE BEGGARS, 802

LXXVIII.
QUACK DOCTORS, 805

LXXIX.
YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION, 811

LXXX.
CASTLE GARDEN, 816

LXXXI.
WORKING WOMEN, 822

LXXXII.
STREET VENDERS, 831

LXXXIII.
THE WHARVES, 835

LXXXIV.
THE MORGUE, 839

LXXXV.
THE CUSTOM HOUSE, 843

LXXXVI.
MISSING, 848

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

General View of New York City, showing the Bridge connecting
it with Brooklyn....................................
Frontispiece.
Offices of the _Tribune_, _Times_, and
_World_............................ 8
Grand Central Railway Depot......................................... 9
First Settlement of New York........................................ 37
New York in 1664.................................................... 45
Broadway, looking up from Exchange Place............................ 53
The City Hall Park in 1869.......................................... 56
The Harbor of New York, as seen from the Narrows.................... 60
A. Oakey Hall, Mayor of New York.................................... 81
William M. Tweed.................................................... 82
The New County Court House.......................................... 83
The Robbery of the Vouchers from the Comptroller's Office........... 94
Richard B. Connolly................................................ 104
Peter B. Sweeny.................................................... 105
Broadway, at the corner of Ann street.............................. 124
A. T. Stewart's Wholesale Store.................................... 125
New York Life Insurance Company's building, corner of
Broadway and Leonard street.............................. 127
Broadway, as seen from the St. Nicholas Hotel...................... 129
Saturday Afternoon Concert at Central Park......................... 132
A Fashionable Promenade on Fifth avenue............................ 137
The German......................................................... 165
Female Prisoners in the Fourth Police Station...................... 176
A Winter Night Scene in a Police Station........................... 181
The Bowery......................................................... 189
The City Hall Park................................................. 198
The Washington Statue in Union Square.............................. 201
Fifth avenue, near Twenty-first street............................. 205
Junction of the Fifth avenue and Thirty-fourth street,
showing the new residence of A. T. Stewart, Esq.......... 209
New Palace-car for City travel, in use on the Third avenue line.... 213
Tunnel under Broadway.............................................. 223
Horace Greeley......................................................231
The Tombs.......................................................... 233
The Bridge of Sighs................................................ 234
Interior of Male Prison............................................ 235
The Prison Chapel.................................................. 237
Court of Special Sessions.......................................... 240
"Black Maria"...................................................... 243
Printing House Square.............................................. 246
The Herald Office.................................................. 249
Wall street........................................................ 259
United States Sub-treasury......................................... 261
The Stock Exchange................................................. 265
The New York Stock Exchange Board in Session....................... 267
The Park Bank, Broadway............................................ 278
Scene in the Gold Room--Black Friday............................... 291
Broad street on Black Friday....................................... 296
The Astor House.................................................... 305
St. Nicholas Hotel................................................. 307
Fifth avenue Hotel................................................. 310
The Soldier Minstrel............................................... 323
View from the Upper Terrace........................................ 333
Foot-bridge in Central Park........................................ 335
The Marble Arch.................................................... 338
Vine-covered Walk, overlooking the Mall............................ 341
The Terrace, as seen from the Lake................................. 344
View on the Central Lake........................................... 346
A Female Shoplifter................................................ 376
A. T. Stewart's Retail Store....................................... 382
Lord and Taylor's Dry Goods Store.................................. 384
A Five Points Rum Shop............................................. 399
A Five Points Lodging Cellar....................................... 407
The Ladies' Five Points Mission.................................... 413
The Howard Mission (as it will appear when completed).............. 419
Nassau street...................................................... 427
Fire Alarm Signal-box.............................................. 435
A Fire in New York................................................. 438
The Old Post-office................................................ 449
The New Post-office................................................ 457
Booth's Theatre.................................................... 471
Grand Opera House.................................................. 474
Academy of Music................................................... 477
The Old Bowery Theatre............................................. 478
Washington Market.................................................. 488
The New St. Patrick's Cathedral.................................... 496
Union Square....................................................... 505
Lafayette Place.................................................... 514
Clinton Hall....................................................... 517
The occasional fate of New York Thieves............................ 525
The River Thieves.................................................. 537
A Fence Store in Chatham street.................................... 541
The Rough's Paradise............................................... 543
The Atlantic Garden................................................ 552
James Fisk, Jr..................................................... 557
Jay Gould.......................................................... 560
Trinity Church..................................................... 569
New Year's Calls................................................... 575
The result of following a Street Walker............................ 592
Noonday Prayer Meeting at Water street Home........................ 599
Harry Hill's Dance House........................................... 602
Scene in the Magdalen Asylum....................................... 616
Residence of the Keeper of the Almshouse........................... 632
Small-pox Hospital................................................. 633
Charity Hospital................................................... 634
New York Penitentiary.............................................. 635
Guard-boats........................................................ 636
Almshouse.......................................................... 637
The Workhouse...................................................... 639
House of Refuge: Randall's Island.................................. 642
Bloomingdale Asylum for the Insane................................. 649
St. Luke's Hospital................................................ 650
Institution for the Blind.......................................... 652
Henry Ward Beecher................................................. 657
A New York Free School............................................. 667
The Free College of New York....................................... 669
University of New York............................................. 672
Columbia College................................................... 673
The Cooper Institute............................................... 674
Cornelius Vanderbilt............................................... 679
A New York Tenement House.......................................... 684
An inside View of a Tenement House................................. 688
Chatham Square..................................................... 700
James Gordon Bennett............................................... 705
A Female Drinker................................................... 708
A First-class Gambling House....................................... 717
The Skin Game...................................................... 723
Peter Cooper....................................................... 733
Chinese Candy Dealer............................................... 736
The Newsboys....................................................... 739
Attack on a Swindler............................................... 746
A Stranger's Exit from a "Cheap John Shop"......................... 752
The Pocket-book Game............................................... 754
Robert Bonner...................................................... 758
The City Hall...................................................... 760
Tammany Hall....................................................... 763
National Academy of Design......................................... 764
Steinway & Son's Piano Factory..................................... 765
The High Bridge.................................................... 775
The Fifth avenue Reservoir......................................... 776
U. S. Navy Yard, Brooklyn.......................................... 779
West Point......................................................... 780
New York Seamen's Exchange Building................................ 786
The Ballet......................................................... 790
The Poor in Winter................................................. 797
The City Missionary................................................ 800
Young Men's Christian Association Hall............................. 812
The Library........................................................ 814
The Battery and Castle Garden...................................... 817
Emigrant Hospital.................................................. 819
The Sewing-girl's Home............................................. 823
Stewart's Home for Working Women................................... 829
Street Venders..................................................... 832
Shoe Latchets...................................................... 832
"Glass put in!".................................................... 832
Balloon Man........................................................ 832
Boat Stores........................................................ 836
The Morgue......................................................... 840
The Custom House................................................... 844
The Fate of Hundreds of Young Men.................................. 849

[Picture: OFFICES OF THE TRIBUNE, TIMES, AND WORLD.]

I. THE CITY OF NEW YORK

I. HISTORICAL.

On the morning of the 1st of May, 1607, there knelt at the chancel of the
old church of St. Ethelburge, in Bishopsgate street, London, to receive
the sacrament, a man of noble and commanding presence, with a broad
intellectual forehead, short, close hair, and a countenance full of the
dignity and courtly bearing of an honorable gentleman. His dress bespoke
him a sailor, and such he was. Immediately upon receiving the sacrament,
he hastened from the church to the Thames, where a boat was in waiting to
convey him to a vessel lying in the stream. But little time was lost
after his arrival on board, and soon the ship was gliding down the river.
The man was an Englishman by birth and training, a seaman by education,
and one of those daring explorers of the time who yearned to win fame by
discovering the new route to India. His name was HENRY HUDSON, and he
had been employed by "certain worshipful merchants of London" to go in
search of a North-_east_ passage to India, around the Arctic shores of
Europe, between Lapland and Nova Zembla, and frozen Spitzbergen. These
worthy gentlemen were convinced that since the effort to find a
North-_west_ passage had failed, nothing remained but to search for a
North-_east_ passage, and they were sure that if human skill or energy
could find it, Hudson would succeed in his mission. They were not
mistaken in their man, for in two successive voyages he did all that
mortal could do to penetrate the ice fields beyond the North Cape, but
without success. An impassable barrier of ice held him back, and he was
forced to return to London to confess his failure. With unconquerable
hope, he suggested new means of overcoming the difficulties; but while
his employers praised his zeal and skill, they declined to go to further
expense in an undertaking which promised so little, and the "bold
Englishman, the expert pilot, and the famous navigator" found himself out
of employment. Every effort to secure aid in England failed him, and,
thoroughly disheartened, he passed over to Holland, whither his fame had
preceded him.

The Dutch, who were more enterprising, and more hopeful than his own
countrymen, lent a ready ear to his statement of his plans, and the Dutch
East India Company at once employed him, and placed him in command of a
yacht of ninety tons, called the _Half Moon_, manned by a picked crew.
On the 25th of March, 1609, Hudson set sail in this vessel from
Amsterdam, and steered directly for the coast of Nova Zembla. He
succeeded in reaching the meridian of Spitzbergen; but here the ice, the
fogs, and the fierce tempests of the North drove him back, and turning to
the westward, he sailed past the capes of Greenland, and on the 2nd of
July was on the banks of Newfoundland. He passed down the coast as far
as Charleston Harbor, vainly hoping to find the North-_west_ passage, and
then in despair turned to the northward, discovering Delaware Bay on his
voyage. On the 3rd of September he arrived off a large bay to the north
of the Delaware, and passing into it, dropped anchor "at two cables'
length from the shore," within Sandy Hook. Devoting some days to rest,
and to the exploration of the bay, he passed through The Narrows on the
11th of September, and then the broad and beautiful "inner bay" burst
upon him in all its splendor, and from the deck of his ship he watched
the swift current of the mighty river rolling from the north to the sea.
He was full of hope now, and the next day continued his progress up the
river, and at nightfall cast anchor at Yonkers. During the night the
current of the river turned his ship around, placing her head down
stream; and this fact, coupled with the assurances of the natives who
came out to the _Half Moon_ in their canoes, that the river flowed from
far beyond the mountains, convinced him that the stream flowed from ocean
to ocean, and that by sailing on he would at length reach India--the
golden land of his dreams.

Thus encouraged, he pursued his way up the river, gazing with wondering
delight upon its glorious scenery, and listening with gradually fading
hope to the stories of the natives who flocked to the water to greet him.
The stream narrowed, and the water grew fresh, and long before he
anchored below Albany, Hudson had abandoned the belief that he was in the
Northwest passage. From the anchorage, a boat's crew continued the
voyage to the mouth of the Mohawk. Hudson was satisfied that he had made
a great discovery--one that was worth fully as much as finding the new
route to India. He was in a region upon which the white man's eye had
never rested before, and which offered the richest returns to commercial
ventures. He hastened back to New York Bay, took possession of the
country in the name of Holland, and then set sail for Europe. He put
into Dartmouth in England, on his way back, where he told the story of
his discovery. King James I. prevented his continuing his voyage, hoping
to deprive the Dutch of its fruits; but Hudson took care to send his
log-book and all the ship's papers over to Holland, and thus placed his
employers in full possession of the knowledge he had gained. The English
at length released the _Half Moon_, and she continued her voyage to the
Texel.

The discovery of Hudson was particularly acceptable to the Dutch, for the
new country was rich in fur-bearing animals, and Russia offered a ready
market for all the furs that could be sent there. The East India
Company, therefore, refitted the _Half Moon_ after her return to Holland,
and despatched her to the region discovered by Hudson on a fur trading
expedition, which was highly successful. Private persons also embarked
in similar enterprises, and within two years a prosperous and important
fur trade was established between Holland and the country along the
Mauritius, as the great river discovered by Hudson had been named, in
honor of the Stadtholder of Holland. No government took any notice of
the trade for a while, and all persons were free to engage in it.

Among the adventurers employed in this trade was one Adrian Block, noted
as one of the boldest navigators of his time. He made a voyage to
Manhattan Island in 1614, then the site of a Dutch trading post, and had
secured a cargo of skins with which he was about to return to Holland,
when a fire consumed both his vessel and her cargo, and obliged him to
pass the winter with his crew on the island. They built them log huts on
the site of the present Beaver street, the first houses erected in New
York, and during the winter constructed a yacht of sixteen tons, which
Block called the _Onrust_--the "Restless." In this yacht Block made many
voyages of discovery, exploring the coasts of Long Island Sound, and
giving his name to the island near the eastern end of the sound. He soon
after went back to Europe.

Meanwhile, a small settlement had clustered about the trading post and
the huts built by Block's shipwrecked crew, and had taken the name of New
Amsterdam. The inhabitants were well suited to become the ancestors of a
great nation. They were mainly Dutch citizens of a European Republic,
"composed of seven free, sovereign States"--made so by a struggle with
despotism for forty years, and occupying a territory which their
ancestors had reclaimed from the ocean and morass by indomitable labor.
It was a republic where freedom of conscience, speech, and the press were
complete and universal. The effect of this freedom had been the internal
development of social beauty and strength, and vast increment of
substantial wealth and power by immigration. Wars and despotisms in
other parts of Europe sent thousands of intelligent exiles thither, and
those free provinces were crowded with ingenious mechanics, and artists,
and learned men, because conscience was there undisturbed, and the hand
and brain were free to win and use the rewards of their industry and
skill. Beautiful cities, towns, and villages were strewn over the whole
country, and nowhere in Europe did society present an aspect half as
pleasing as that of Holland. Every religious sect there found an asylum
from persecution and encouragement to manly effort, by the kind respect
of all. And at the very time when the charter of the West India Company
was under consideration, that band of English Puritans who afterward set
up the ensign of free institutions on the shores of Massachusetts Bay,
were being nurtured in the bosom of that republic, and instructed in
those principles of civil liberty that became a salutary leaven in the
bigotry which they brought with them.

[Picture: First settlement of New York]

"Such were the people who laid the foundations of the Commonwealth of New
York. They were men of expanded views, liberal feelings, and never
dreamed of questioning any man's inalienable right to 'life, liberty, and
the pursuit of happiness' among them, whether he first inspired the
common air in Holland, England, Abyssinia, or Kamtschatka. And as the
population increased and became heterogeneous, that very toleration
became a reproach; and their Puritan neighbors on the east, and Churchmen
and Romanists on the south, called New Amsterdam 'a cage of unclean
birds.'"

The English, now awake to the importance of Hudson's discoveries, warned
the Dutch Government to refrain from making further settlements on
"Hudson's River," as they called the Mauritius; but the latter, relying
upon the justice of their claim, which was based upon Hudson's discovery,
paid no attention to these warnings, and in the spring of 1623 the Dutch
West India Company sent over thirty families of Walloons, or 110 persons
in all, to found a permanent colony at New Amsterdam, which, until now,
had been inhabited only by fur traders. These Walloons were Protestants,
from the frontier between France and Flanders, and had fled to Amsterdam
to escape religious persecution in France. They were sound, healthy,
vigorous, and pious people, and could be relied upon to make homes in the
New World. The majority of them settled in New Amsterdam. Others went
to Long Island, where Sarah de Rapelje, the first white child born in the
province of New Netherlands, saw the light.

In 1626, Peter Minuit, the first regular Governor, was sent over from
Holland. He brought with him a _Koopman_ or general commissary, who was
also secretary of the province, and a _Schout_, or sheriff, to assist him
in his government. The only laws to which he was subject were the
instructions of the West India Company. The colonists, on their part,
were to regard his will as their law. He set to work with great vigor to
lay the foundations of the colony. He called a council of the Indian
chiefs, and purchased the Island of Manhattan from them for presents
valued at about twenty dollars, United States coin. He thus secured an
equitable title to the island, and won the friendship of the Indians.
Under his vigorous administration, the colony prospered; houses were
built, farms laid off; the population was largely increased by new
arrivals from Europe; and New Amsterdam fairly entered upon its career as
one of the most important places in America. It was a happy settlement,
as well; the rights of the people were respected, and they were as free
as they had been in Holland. Troubles with the Indians marked the close
of Minuit's administration. The latter were provoked by the murder of
some of their number by the whites, and by the aid rendered by the
commander at Fort Orange (Albany) to the Mohegans, in one of their forays
upon the Mohawks. Many of the families at Fort Orange, and from the
region between the Hudson and the Delaware, abandoned their settlements,
and came to New Amsterdam for safety, thus adding to the population of
that place. Minuit was recalled in 1632, and he left the province in a
highly prosperous condition. During the last year of his government New
Amsterdam sent over $60,000 worth of furs to Holland.

His successor was the redoubtable Wouter Van Twiller, a clerk in the
company's warehouse at Amsterdam, who owed his appointment to his being
the husband of the niece of Killian Van Rensselaer, the patroon of
Albany. Irving has given us the following admirable portrait of him:

"He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches
in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous
dimensions, that dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have
been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it; wherefore she
wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his back
bone, just between the shoulders. His body was oblong, and particularly
capacious at bottom; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that
he was a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of
walking. His legs were very short, but sturdy in proportion to the
weight they had to sustain: so that, when erect, he had not a little the
appearance of a beer barrel on skids. His face, that infallible index of
the mind, presented a vast expanse, unfurrowed by any of those lines and
angles which disfigure the human countenance with what is termed
expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two
stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy firmament; and his full-fed cheeks,
which seemed to have taken toll of everything that went into his mouth,
were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, like a Spitzenberg
apple. His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four
stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each; he smoked and
doubted eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of the
four-and-twenty."

Van Twiller ruled the province seven years, and, in spite of his
stupidity, it prospered. In 1633, Adam Roelantsen, the first
school-master, arrived--for the fruitful Walloons had opened the way by
this time for his labors--and in the same year a wooden church was built
in the present Bridge street, and placed in charge of the famous Dominie
Everardus Bogardus. In 1635, the fort, which marked the site of the
present Bowling Green, and which had been begun in 1614, was finished,
and in the same year the first English settlers at New Amsterdam came
into the town. The English in New England also began to give the Dutch
trouble during this administration, and even sent a ship into "Hudson's
River" to trade with the Indians. Influenced by De Vries, the commander
of the fort, the Governor sent an expedition up the river after the
audacious English vessel, seized her, brought her back to New York, and
sent her to sea with a warning not to repeat her attempt. The disputes
between the English and the Dutch about the Connecticut settlements, also
began to make trouble for New Amsterdam. Van Twiller possessed no
influence in the colony, was laughed at and snubbed on every side, and
was at length recalled by the company in 1638. The only memorial of Van
Twiller left to us is the Isle of Nuts, which lies in the bay between New
York and Brooklyn, and which he purchased as his private domain. It is
still called the "Governor's Island."

Van Twiller's successor in the government of the province was William
Kieft. He was as energetic as he was spiteful, and as spiteful as he was
rapacious. His chief pleasure lay in quarrelling. He and his council
made some useful reforms, but as a rule they greatly oppressed the
people. During this administration agriculture was encouraged, the
growing of fruit was undertaken, and several other things done to
increase the material prosperity of the town. The fort was repaired and
strengthened, new warehouses were built, and police ordinances were
framed and strictly executed. The old wooden church was made a barrack
for troops, and a new and larger edifice of stone was constructed by
Kuyter and Dam within the walls of the fort. Within the little tower
were hung the bells captured from the Spanish by the Dutch at Porto Rico.
The church cost $1000, and was considered a grand edifice. In 1642 a
stone tavern was built at the head of Coenties Slip, and in the same
year, the first "city lots" with valid titles were granted to the
settlers.

The latter part of Kieft's administration was marked by contests with the
citizens, who compelled him, in 1641, to grant them a municipal council,
composed of twelve of the most prominent residents of New Amsterdam,
which council he arbitrarily dissolved at the first opportunity. He also
stirred up a war with the Indians, in which he was the principal
aggressor. This war brought great loss and suffering upon the province,
and came near ruining it. Kieft, alarmed at the results of his folly,
appointed a new municipal council of eight members, and this council at
once demanded of the States General of Holland the removal of Kieft.
Their demand was complied with, and in 1647, Peter Stuyvesant was made
Governor of New Netherlands, and reached New Amsterdam in the same year.

Stuyvesant was essentially a strong man. A soldier by education and of
long experience, he was accustomed to regard rigid discipline as the one
thing needful in every relation of life, and he was not slow to introduce
that system into his government of New Amsterdam. He had served
gallantly in the wars against the Portuguese, and had lost a leg in one
of his numerous encounters with them. He was as vain as a peacock, as
fond of display as a child, and thoroughly imbued with the most
aristocratic ideas--qualities not exactly the best for a Governor of New
Amsterdam. Yet, he was, with all his faults, an honest man, he had
deeply at heart the interests of the colony, and his administration was
mainly a prosperous one.

He energetically opposed from the first all manifestations in favor of
popular government. His will was to be the law of the province. "If any
one," said he, "during my administration shall appeal, I will make him a
foot shorter, and send the pieces to Holland, and let him appeal in that
way." He went to work with vigor to reform matters in the colony,
extending his efforts to even the morals and domestic affairs of the
people. He soon brought about a reign of material prosperity greater
than had ever been known before, and exerted himself to check the
encroachments of the English, on the East, and the Swedes, on the South.
He inaugurated a policy of kindness and justice toward the Indians, and
soon changed their enmity to sincere friendship. One thing, however, he
dared not do--he could not levy taxes upon the people without their
consent, for fear of offending the States General of Holland. This
forced him to appoint a council of nine prominent citizens, and, although
he endeavored to hedge round their powers by numerous conditions, the
nine ever afterwards served as a salutary check upon the action of the
Governor. He succeeded, in the autumn of 1650, in settling the boundary
disputes with the English in New England, and then turned his attention
to the Swedes on the Delaware, whom he conquered in 1654. His politic
course towards them had the effect of converting them into warm friends
of the Dutch. During his absence on this expedition, the Indians ravaged
the Jersey shore and Staten Island, and even made an attack on New
Amsterdam itself. They were defeated by the citizens, and Stuyvesant's
speedy return compelled them to make peace. This was the last blow
struck by the savages at the infant metropolis.

In 1652, the States General, much to the disgust of Stuyvesant, granted
to New Amsterdam a municipal government similar to that of the free
cities of Holland. A Schout, or Sheriff, two Burgomasters, and five
Schepens, were to constitute a municipal court of justice. The people,
however, were denied the selection of these officers, who were appointed
by the Governor. In February, 1653, these officers were formally
installed. They were, Schout Van Tienhoven, Burgomasters Hattem and
Kregier, and Schepens Van der Grist, Van Gheel, Anthony, Beeckman, and
Couwenhoven, with Jacob Kip as clerk.

During Stuyvesant's administration, the colony received large accessions
from the English in New England. "Numbers, nay whole towns," says De
Laet, "to escape from the insupportable government of New England,
removed to New Netherlands, to enjoy that liberty denied to them by their
own countrymen." They settled in New Amsterdam, on Long Island, and in
Westchester county. Being admitted to the rights of citizenship, they
exercised considerable influence in the affairs of the colony, and
towards the close of his administration gave the Governor considerable
trouble by their opposition to his despotic acts.

In 1647, the streets of New Amsterdam were cleared of the shanties and
pig-pens which obstructed them. In 1648, every Monday was declared a
market-day. In 1650, Dirk Van Schellyne, the first lawyer, "put up his
shingle" in New Amsterdam. In 1652, a wall or palisade was erected along
the upper boundary of the city, in apprehension of an invasion by the
English. This defence ran from river to river, and to it Wall street,
which occupies its site east of Trinity Church, owes its name. In 1656,
the first survey of the city was made, and seventeen streets were laid
down on the map; and, in the same year, the first census showed a "city"
of 120 houses, and 1000 inhabitants. In 1657, a terrible blow fell upon
New Amsterdam--the public treasury being empty, the salary of the town
drummer could not be paid. In that year the average price of the best
city lots was $50. In 1658, the custom of "bundling" received its death
blow by an edict of the Governor, which forbade men and women to live
together until legally married. In that year the streets were first
paved with stone, and the first "night watch" was organized and duly
provided with rattles. A fire department, supplied with buckets and
ladders, was also established, and the first public well was dug in
Broadway. In 1660, it was made the duty of the Sheriff to go round the
city by night to assure himself of its peace and safety. This worthy
official complained that the dogs, having no respect for his august
person, attacked him in his rounds, and that certain evil-minded
individuals "frightened" him by calling out "Indians" in the darkness,
and that even the boys cut _Koeckies_. The city grew steadily, its
suburbs began to smile with boweries, or farms, and in 1658 a palisaded
village called New Harlem was founded at the eastern end of Manhattan
Island for the purpose of "promoting agriculture, and affording a place
of amusement for the citizens of New Amsterdam." "Homes, genuine, happy
Dutch homes, in abundance, were found within and without the city, where
uncultured minds and affectionate hearts enjoyed life in dreamy, quiet
blissfulness, unknown in these bustling times. The city people then rose
at dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sunset, except on
extraordinary occasions, such as Christmas Eve, a tea party, or a
wedding. Then those who attended the fashionable soirees of the 'upper
ten' assembled at three o'clock in the afternoon, and went away at six,
so that daughter Maritchie might have the pewter plates and delf teapot
cleaned and cupboarded in time for evening prayer at seven. Knitting and
spinning held the places of whist and flirting in these 'degenerate
days;' and _utility_ was as plainly stamped on all their pleasures as the
maker's name on our silver spoons."

But the period of Dutch supremacy on Manhattan was approaching its close.
Charles II. had just regained the English throne. In 1664, with
characteristic disregard of right and justice, he granted to his brother
James, Duke of York and Albany, the whole territory of New Netherlands,
including all of Long Island and a part of Connecticut--lands to which he
had not the shadow of a claim. In the same year, a force of four ships
and 450 soldiers, under the command of Colonel Richard Nicholls, was sent
to New Amsterdam to take possession of that city. It arrived at the
Narrows about the 29th of August, and on the 30th, Nicholls demanded the
surrender of the town. Stuyvesant, who had made preparations for
defending the place, endeavored to resist the demand, but the people
refused to sustain him, and he was obliged to submit. On the 8th of
September, 1664, he withdrew the Dutch garrison from the fort, and
embarked at the foot of Beaver street for Holland. The English at once
took possession of the town and province, changing the name of both to
New York, in honor of the new proprietor.

[Picture: New York in 1664]

The English set themselves to work to conciliate the Dutch residents, a
task not very difficult, inasmuch as the English settlers already in the
province had to a great degree prepared the way for the change. In 1665,
the year after the conquest, the city was given a Mayor, a Sheriff, and a
board of Aldermen, who were charged with the administration of municipal
affairs, and in the same year jury trials were formally established. In
July, 1673, the Dutch fleet recaptured the town, drove out the English,
and named it New Orange. The peace between Great Britain and Holland,
which closed the war, restored the town to the English, November 10th,
1674, and the name of New York was resumed. The Dutch Government was
replaced by the English system under a liberal charter, and during the
remainder of the seventeenth century the town grew rapidly in population
and size. In 1689 there was a brief disturbance known as Leislers'
Rebellion. In 1700 New York contained 750 dwellings and 4500 white and
750 black inhabitants. In 1693 William Bradford established the first
printing press in the city. In 1696 Trinity Church was begun, and in
1697, the streets were first lighted, a lamp being hung out upon a pole
extending from the window of every seventh house. In 1702 a terrible
fever was brought from St. Thomas', and carried off 600 persons,
one-tenth of the whole population. In 1711, a slave market was
established. In 1719 the first Presbyterian Church was built; in 1725
the New York _Gazette_, the fifth of the colonial newspapers, was
established; and in 1730 stages ran to Philadelphia once a fortnight, and
in 1732 to Boston, the latter journey occupying fourteen days. In 1731
the first public library, the bequest of the Rev. Dr. Wellington, of
England, was opened in the city. It contained 1622 volumes. In 1734 a
workhouse was erected in the present City Hall Park. In 1735 the people
made their first manifestation of hostility to Great Britain, which was
drawn forth by the infamous prosecution by the officers of the crown, of
Rip Van Dam, who had been the acting Governor of the town. The winter of
1740-41 was memorable for its severity. The Hudson was frozen over at
New York, and the snow lay six feet on a level. In 1741, a severe fire
in the lower part of the city destroyed among other things the old Dutch
Church and fort, and in the same year the yellow fever raged with great
violence. The principal event of the year, however, was the so-called
negro plot for the destruction of the town. Though the reality of the
plot was never proved, the greatest alarm prevailed; the fire in the fort
was declared to be the work of the negroes, many of whom were arrested;
and upon the sole evidence of a servant girl a number of the poor
wretches were convicted and hanged. Several whites were charged with
being the accomplices of the negroes. One of these, John Ury, a Roman
Catholic priest, and, as is now believed, an innocent man, was hanged, in
August. In the space of six months 154 negroes and twenty whites were
arrested, twenty negroes were hanged, thirteen were burned at the stake,
and seventy-eight were transported. The rest were released. In 1750 a
theatre was opened, and in 1755 St. Paul's Church was erected. In 1754
the "Walton House," in Pearl street (still standing), was built by
William Walton, a merchant. It was long known as the finest private
residence in the city. In 1755 the Staten Island ferry, served by means
of row boats, was established, and in the same year Peck Slip was opened
and paved. In 1756 the first lottery ever seen in the city was opened in
behalf of King's (now Columbia) College.

New York bore a prominent part in the resistance of the colonies to the
aggressions of the mother country, and in spite of the efforts of her
royalist Governor and the presence of a large number of Tories, responded
cordially to the call of the colonies for men and money during the war.
On the 14th of April, 1776, the city was occupied by the American army,
the British force stationed there being obliged to withdraw. On the 26th
of August, 1776, the battle of Long Island having been lost by the
Americans, New York was occupied by the British, who held it until the
close of the war. It suffered very much at their hands. Nearly all the
churches, except the Episcopal, were used by them as prisons, riding
schools, and stables; and the schools and colleges were closed. On the
21st of September, 1776, a fire destroyed 493 houses, including Trinity
Church--all the west side of Broadway from Whitehall to Barclay street,
or about one-eighth of the city; and on the 7th of August 1778, about 300
buildings on East River were burned. The winter of 1779-80 was very
severe; there was a beaten track for sleighs and wagons across the
Hudson; the ice in that river being strong enough to bear a horse and man
as late as the 17th of March; eighty sleighs, with provisions, and a
large body of troops, crossed on the ice from the city to Staten Island.
On the 25th of November, 1783, the British evacuated the city, which was
at once occupied by the American army.

In 1785 the first Federal Congress met in the City Hall, which stood at
the corner of Wall and Nassau streets, and on the 30th of April, 1789,
George Washington was inaugurated first President of the United States on
the same spot. By 1791 New York had spread to the lower end of the
present City Hall Park, the site of the new Post Office, and was
extending along the Boston road, or Bowery, and Broadway. In 1799, the
Manhattan Company for supplying the city with fresh water was chartered.
On the 20th of September, 1803, the cornerstone of the City Hall was
laid. The city fathers, sagely premising that New York would never pass
this limit, ordered the rear wall of the edifice to be constructed of
brown stone, to save the expense of marble. Free schools were opened in
1805. In the same year the yellow fever raged with violence, and had the
effect of extending the city by driving the population up the island,
where many of them located themselves permanently. In 1807, Robert
Fulton navigated the first steamboat from New York to Albany.

The war of 1812-15 for a while stopped the growth of the city, but after
the return of peace its progress was resumed. In August, 1812,
experimental gas lamps were placed in the City Hall Park, though the use
of gas for purposes of lighting was not begun until 1825. In 1822 the
yellow fever again drove the population up the island, and caused a rapid
growth of the city above Canal street. In 1825 the Erie Canal was
completed. This great work, by placing the trade of the West in the
hands of New York, gave a powerful impetus to the growth of the city,
which was at that time spreading at the rate of from 1000 to 1500 houses
per year. In 1832 and 1834, the cholera raged severely, carrying off
upwards of 4484 persons in the two years. In 1835, the "great fire"
occurred. This terrible conflagration broke out on the 16th of December
of that year, and swept the First Ward of the city east of Broadway and
below Wall street. It laid almost the entire business quarter in ashes,
destroyed 648 houses, and inflicted upon the city a loss of over
$18,000,000. New York rose from this disaster with wonderful energy and
rapidity, but only to meet, in 1837, the most terrible financial crisis
that had ever burst upon the country. Even this did not check the growth
of the city, the population increasing 110,100 between 1830 and 1840. In
1842 the Croton water was introduced. In 1849 and 1854 the cholera again
appeared, killing over 5400 persons. In 1852, the first street railway
was built. In 1858, the Central Park was begun.

The Civil War checked the growth and trade of the city, which languished
during the entire struggle, but upon the return of peace New York resumed
its onward progress. The growth of the city since 1865 has been most
marked, especially in the immediate vicinity of the Central Park. Not
less marked has been the improvement of the older portions. The city is
rapidly increasing in size, population, and magnificence, and is fully
maintaining its position as the brilliant metropolis of the New World.

II. DESCRIPTIVE AND STATISTICAL.

The city of New York, the largest and most important in the United
States, is situated in New York County, on Manhattan Island, at the mouth
of the Hudson River, eighteen miles from the Atlantic Ocean. The city
limits comprise the entire county of New York, embracing Manhattan
Island, Randall's, Ward's, and Blackwell's Islands, in the East River,
and Governor's, Bedloe's, and Ellis' Islands, in the bay. The last three
are occupied by the military posts of the United States Government.
Manhattan Island is bounded on the north by Spuyten Duyvel Creek and the
Harlem River--practically the same stream; on the east by the East River,
on the west by the Hudson, and on the south by New York Bay. It is nine
miles long on the east side, thirteen and a half miles long on the west
side, and two and a half miles wide at its greatest breadth, the average
breadth being a mile and a half. It is but a few feet in width at its
southern extremity, but spreads out like a fan as it stretches away to
the northward. The southern point is but a few inches above the level of
the bay, but the island rises rapidly to the northward, its extreme
northern portion being occupied by a series of bold, finely wooded
heights, which terminate at the junction of the Hudson River and Spuyten
Duyvel Creek, in a bold promontory, 130 feet high. These hills, known as
Washington Heights, are two or three miles in length. The southern
portion of the island is principally a sand-bed, but the remainder is
very rocky. The island covers an area of twenty-two square miles, or
14,000 acres. It is built up compactly for about six miles, along the
east side, and irregularly to Harlem, three miles farther. Along the
west side it is built up compactly to the Central Park, Fifty-ninth
street, and irregularly to Manhattanville, One hundred and twenty-fifth
street, from which point to Spuyten Duyvel Creek it is covered with
country seats, gardens, etc. Three wagon, and two railroad bridges over
the Harlem River connect the island with the mainland, and numerous lines
of ferries afford communication with Long and Staten Islands, and New
Jersey. The island attains its greatest width at Fourteenth and
Eighty-seventh streets.

The city is finely built, and presents an aspect of industry and
liveliness unsurpassed by any place in the world. Lying in full sight of
the ocean, with its magnificent bay to the southward, and the East and
Hudson Rivers washing its shores, the city of New York possesses a
climate which renders it the most delightful residence in America. In
the winter the proximity of the sea moderates the severity of the cold,
and in the summer the heat is tempered by the delightful sea breezes
which sweep over the island. Snow seldom lies in the streets for more
than a few hours, and the intense "heated terms" of the summer are of
very brief duration. As a natural consequence, the city is healthy, and
the death rate, considering the population, is small.

The southern portion is densely built up. Between the City Hall and
Twenty-third street New York is more thickly populated than any city in
America. It is in this section that the "tenement houses," or buildings
containing from five to twenty families, are to be found. The greatest
mortality is in these over-crowded districts, which the severest police
measures cannot keep clean and free from filth. The southern portion of
the city is devoted almost exclusively to trade, comparatively few
persons residing below the City Hall. Below Canal street the streets are
narrow, crooked, and irregular. Above Houston street they are broad and
straight, and are laid out at regular intervals. Above Houston street,
the streets extending across the island are numbered. The avenues begin
in the vicinity of Third street, and extend, or will extend to the
northern limit of the island, running parallel with the Hudson River.
There are twelve fine avenues at parallel distances apart of about 800
feet. Second and Eighth are the longest, and Fifth, Madison and
Lexington the most fashionable. They commence with Avenue D, a short
street, near the East River. West of this, and parallel with it, are
three avenues somewhat longer, called Avenues C, B, and A, the last being
the most westerly. Then begin the long avenues, which are numbered
First, Second, and so on, as they increase to the westward. There are
two other avenues shorter than those with numbers, viz: Lexington, lying
between Third and Fourth, and extending from Fourteenth street on the
south to Sixty-ninth street on the north; and Madison, between Fourth and
Fifth, and extending from Twenty-third street at Madison Square to
Eighty-sixth street. Madison and Lexington are each to be prolonged to
the Harlem River. These avenues are all 100 feet wide, except Lexington
and Madison, which are seventy-five feet wide, and Fourth avenue, above
Thirty-fourth street, which is 140 feet wide. Third avenue is the main
street on the east side above the Bowery, of which it is a continuation,
and Eighth avenue is the principal highway on the west side. Fifth and
Madison avenues are the most fashionable, and are magnificently built up
with private residences below the Park. The cross streets connecting
them are also handsomely built.

The numerical streets are all sixty feet wide, except Fourteenth,
Twenty-third, Thirty-fourth, Forty-second, and eleven others north of
these, which are 100 feet wide. The streets of the city are well laid
off, and are paved with an excellent quality of stone. The sidewalks
generally consist of immense stone "flags." In the lower part of the
city, in the poorer and business sections, the streets are dirty and
always out of order. In the upper part they are clean, and are generally
kept so by private contributions.

The avenues on the eastern and western extremities of the city are the
abodes of poverty and want, and often of vice, hemming in the wealthy and
cleanly sections on both sides. Poverty and riches are close neighbors
in New York. Only a stone's throw back of the most sumptuous parts of
Broadway and Fifth avenue, want and suffering, vice and crime, hold their
courts. Fine ladies can look down from their high casements upon the
squalid dens of their unfortunate sisters.

Broadway is the principal thoroughfare. It extends from the Battery to
Spuyten Duyvel Creek, a distance of fifteen miles. It is built up
compactly for about five miles, is paved and graded for about seven
miles, and is lighted with gas along its entire length. There are over
420 miles of streets in the patrol districts, and eleven miles of piers
along the water. The sewerage is generally good, but defective in some
places. Nearly 400 miles of water-mains have been laid. The streets are
lighted by about 19,000 gas lamps, besides lamps set out by private
parties. They are paved with the Belgian and wooden pavements, cobble
stones being almost a thing of the past. For so large a city, New York
is remarkably clean, except in those portions lying close to the river,
or given up to paupers.

The city is substantially built. Frame houses are rare. Many of the old
quarters are built of brick, but this material is now used to a limited
extent only. Broadway and the principal business streets are lined with
buildings of iron, marble, granite, brown, Portland, and Ohio stone,
palatial in their appearance; and the sections devoted to the residences
of the better classes are built up mainly with brown, Portland, and Ohio
stone, and in some instances with marble. Thus the city presents an
appearance of grandeur and solidity most pleasing to the eye. The public
buildings will compare favorably with any in the world, and there is no
city on the globe that can boast so many palatial warehouses and stores.
Broadway is one of the best built thoroughfares in the world. The stores
which line it are generally from five to six stories high above ground,
with two cellars below the pavement, and vaults extending to near the
middle of the street. The adjacent streets in many instances rival
Broadway in their splendors. The stores of the city are famous for their
elegance and convenience, and for the magnificence and variety of the
goods displayed in them. The streets occupied by private residences are
broad, clean and well-paved, and are lined with miles of dwellings
inferior to none in the world in convenience and substantial elegance.
The amount of wealth and taste concentrated in the dwellings of the
better classes of the citizens of New York is very great.

[Picture: BROADWAY, LOOKING UP FROM EXCHANGE PLACE]

The population of New York, in 1870, according to the United States
census of that year, was 942,337. There can be no doubt that at the
present time the island contains over 1,000,000 _residents_. Thousands
of persons doing business in New York reside in the vicinity, and enter
and leave the city at morning and evening, and thousands of strangers, on
business and pleasure, come and go daily. It is estimated that the
actual number of people in the city about the hour of noon is nearly, if
not fully, one million and a half. According to the census of 1870, the
actual population consisted of 929,199 white and 13,153 colored persons.
The native population was 523,238, and the foreign population 419,094.
The nationality of the principal part of the foreign element was as
follows:

From Number of persons.
Germany 151222
Ireland 201999
England 24432
Scotland 7554
France 8267
Belgium 328
Holland 1237
British America and Canada 4338
Cuba 1293
China 115
Denmark 682
Italy 2790
Mexico 64
Norway 373
Poland 2392
Portugal 92
Russia 1139
South America 213
Spain 464
Sweden 1569
Switzerland 2169
Turkey 38
Wales 587
West Indies 487

Besides those mentioned in this table, are representatives of every
nationality under heaven, in greater or less strength. It will be seen
that the native population is in the excess. The increase of natives
between 1860 and 1870, was 93,246. The Germans increased in the same
period at the rate of 32,936; while the Irish population fell off 1701 in
the same decade. The foreign classes frequently herd together by
themselves, in distinct parts of the city, which they seem to regard as
their own. In some sections are to be found whole streets where the
inhabitants do not understand English, having no occasion to use it in
their daily life.

In 1869, there were 13,947 births, 8695 marriages, and 24,601 deaths
reported by the city authorities. The authorities stated that they were
satisfied that the number of births was actually over 30,000; the number
reported by them being very incomplete, owing to the difficulty of
procuring such information.

Its mixed population makes New York a thoroughly cosmopolitan city, yet
at the same time it is eminently American. The native element exercises
a controlling influence upon all its acts, and when the proper exertion
is made rarely fails to maintain its ascendancy.

The number of buildings in the city is from 60,000 to 70,000. In 1860,
out of 161,000 families only 15,000 occupied entire houses. Nine
thousand one hundred and twenty dwellings contained two families each,
and 6100 contained three families each. After these come the tenement
houses. At present, the number of houses occupied by more than one
family is even larger.

It has been well said that "New York is the best place in the world to
take the conceit out of a man." This is true. No matter how great or
flattering is the local reputation of an individual, he finds upon
reaching New York that he is entirely unknown. He must at once set to
work to build up a reputation here, where he will be taken for just what
he is worth, and no more. The city is a good school for studying human
nature, and its people are proficients in the art of discerning
character.

In point of morality, the people of New York, in spite of all that has
been said of them, compare favorably with those of any other city. If
the darkest side of life is to be seen here, one may also witness the
best. The greatest scoundrels and the purest Christians are to be found
here. It is but natural that New York, being the great centre of wealth,
should also be the great centre of all that is good and beautiful in
life. It is true that the Devil's work is done here on a gigantic scale,
but the will of the Lord is done on an equally great, if not a greater
scale.

[Picture: THE CITY HALL PARK AS IT APPEARED IN 1869]

In its charities, New York stands at the head of American
communities--the great heart of the city throbs warmly for suffering
humanity. The municipal authorities expend annually about one million of
dollars in public charities. The various religious denominations spend
annually about five millions more, and private benevolence disburses a
sum of which no record is to be had--but it is large. Besides this, the
city is constantly sending out princely sums to relieve want and
suffering in all parts of our broad land. New York never turns a deaf
ear to an appeal for aid.

The people of New York are very liberal in matters of opinion. Here, as
a general rule, no man seeks to influence the belief of another, except
so far as all men are privileged to do so. Every religious faith, every
shade of political opinion, is protected and finds full expression. Men
concern themselves with their own affairs only. Indeed this feeding has
been carried to such an extreme that it has engendered a decided
indifference between man and man. People live for years as next door
neighbors without ever knowing each other by sight. A gentleman once
happened to notice the name of his next door neighbor on the door-plate.
To his surprise he found it the same as his own. Accosting the owner of
the door-plate one day, for the first time, he remarked that it was
singular that two people bearing the same name should live side by side
for years without knowing each other. This remark led to mutual
inquiries and statements, and to their surprise the two men found they
were brothers--sons of the same parents. They had not met for many
years, and for fully twelve years had lived side by side as neighbors,
without knowing each other. This incident may be overdrawn, but it will
illustrate a peculiar feature of New York life.

Strangers coming to New York are struck with the fact that there are but
two classes in the city--the poor and the rich. The middle class, which
is so numerous in other cities, hardly exists at all here. The reason of
this is plain to the initiated. Living in New York is so expensive that
persons of moderate means reside in the suburbs, some of them as far as
forty miles in the country. They come into the city, to their business,
in crowds, between the hours of seven and nine in the morning, and
literally pour out of it between four and seven in the evening. In fair
weather the inconvenience of such a life is trifling, but in the winter
it is absolutely fearful. A deep snow will sometimes obstruct the
railroad tracks, and persons living outside of the city are either unable
to leave New York or are forced to spend the night on the cars. Again,
the rivers will be so full of floating ice as to render it very
dangerous, if not impossible, for the ferry boats to cross. At such
times the railroad depots and ferry houses are crowded with persons
anxiously awaiting transportation to their homes. The detention in New
York, however, is not the greatest inconvenience caused by such mishaps.

To persons of means, New York offers more advantages as a place of
residence than any city in the land. Its delightful climate, its
cosmopolitan and metropolitan character, and the endless variety of its
attractions and comforts, render it the most delightful home in America.
Its people are warmly attached to and proud of it, and even strangers
feel drawn towards it as to no other city save their own homes. Few
persons care to leave it after a twelve-months' residence within its
limits, and those who are forced to go away generally find their way back
at the earliest opportunity.

II. THE HARBOR OF NEW YORK.

The bay and harbor of New York are noted the world over for their beauty.
When the discoverer, Henry Hudson, first gazed upon the glorious scene,
he gave vent to the impulsive assertion that it was "a very good land to
fall in with, and a pleasant land to see," and there are few who will
venture to differ from him.

To enjoy the wonderful beauty of the bay, one should enter it from the
ocean; and it is from the blue water that we propose to begin our
exploration.

Nineteen miles from the City of New York, on the western side of the bay,
is a low, narrow, and crooked neck of sand, covered in some places with a
dense growth of pine and other hardy trees. This neck is called Sandy
Hook, and its curve encloses a pretty little bay, known as the Cove. On
the extreme end of the point, which commands the main ship channel, the
General Government is erecting a powerful fort, under the guns of which
every vessel entering the bay must pass. There is also a lighthouse near
the fort, and within the last few years a railway depot has been built on
the shore of the Cove. Passengers from New York for Long Branch are
transferred from the steamer to the cars at this place, the road running
along the sea-shore to Long Branch. To the westward of Sandy Hook, on
the Jersey shore, are the finely wooded and picturesque Highlands of
Nevesink, and at their feet the Shrewsbury River flows into the bay,
while some miles to the eastward are the shining sands and white houses
of Rockaway Beach and Fire Island. Seven miles out at sea, tosses the
Sandy Hook Light Ship, marking the point from which vessels must take
their course in entering the bay.

Leaving Sandy Hook, our course is a little to the northwest. The New
Jersey shore is on our left, and we can see the dim outlines of Port
Monmouth and Perth Amboy and South Amboy in the far distance, while to
the right Coney Island and its hotels are in full sight. Back of these
lie the low shores of Long Island, dotted with pretty suburban villas and
villages. A few miles above Sandy Hook we pass the Quarantine station in
the Lower Bay, with the fleet of detained vessels clustering about the
hospital ships.

[Picture: THE HARBOR OF NEW YORK, AS SEEN FROM THE NARROWS]

Straight ahead, on our left, is a bold headland, sloping away from east
to west, towards the Jersey coast. This is Staten Island, a favorite
resort for New Yorkers, and taken up mainly with their handsome country
seats. The bay here narrows rapidly, and the shores of Staten and Long
Islands are scarcely a mile apart. This passage is famous the world over
as _The Narrows_, and connects the Inner and Lower Bays. The shores are
high on either side, but the Staten Island side is a bold headland, the
summit of which is over one hundred feet above the water. These high
shores constitute the protection which the Inner Bay enjoys from the
storms that howl along the coast. It is to them also that New York must
look for protection in the event of a foreign war. Here are the
principal fortifications of the city, and whichever way we turn the
shores bristle with guns. On the Long Island shore is Fort Hamilton, an
old but powerful work, begun in 1824, and completed in 1832, at a cost of
$550,000. The main work mounts eighty heavy guns; but since the Civil
War, additional batteries, some of them armed with Rodman guns, have been
erected. A little above Fort Hamilton, and a few hundred yards from the
shore, is Fort Lafayette, built on a shoal known as Hendricks' Reef. It
was begun during the war of 1812, cost $350,000, and was armed with
seventy-three guns. It was used during the Civil War as a jail for
political prisoners. In December, 1868, it was destroyed by fire, and
the Government is now rebuilding it upon a more formidable scale. The
Staten Island shore is lined with guns. At the water's edge is a
powerful casemated battery, known as Fort Tompkins, mounting forty heavy
guns. The bluff above is crowned with a large and formidable looking
work, also of granite, known as Fort Richmond, mounting one hundred and
forty guns. To the right and left of the fort, are Batteries Hudson,
Morton, North Cliff, and South Cliff; mounting about eighty guns of heavy
calibre. It is stated that the new work on Sandy Hook will be armed with
two hundred guns, which will make the defensive armament of the Lower Bay
and Narrows over six hundred and thirteen guns, which, together with the
fleet of war vessels that could be assembled for the protection of the
city, would render the capture of New York by an enemy's fleet a
hazardous, if not impracticable, undertaking.

Passing through _The Narrows_, we enter the Inner Bay. New York,
Brooklyn and Jersey City are in full sight to the northward, with the
Hudson stretching away in the distance. The bay is crowded with shipping
of all kinds, from the fussy little tug-boat to the large, grim-looking
man-of-war. As we sail on, the scene becomes more animated. On the left
are the picturesque heights of Staten Island, dotted thickly with
country-seats, cottages, and pretty towns, and on the left the
heavily-wooded shores of Long Island abound with handsome villas.

Soon Staten Island is passed, and we see the white lighthouse standing
out in the water, which marks the entrance to the Kill Van Kull, or
Staten Island Sound; and, far to the westward, we can faintly discern the
shipping at Elizabethport. We are now fairly in the harbor of New York,
with the great city directly in front of us, Brooklyn on our right, and
Jersey City on our left. To the northward, the line of the Hudson melts
away in the distant blue sky, and to the right the East River is lost in
the shipping and houses of the two cities it separates. The scene is gay
and brilliant. The breeze is fresh and delightful; the sky as clear and
blue as that of Italy, and the bay as bright and beautiful as that of
Naples, and even more majestic. As far as the eye can reach on either
side of the Hudson extend the long lines of shipping, while the East
River is a perfect forest of masts. Here are steamboats and steamships,
sailing vessels, barges, and canal boats--every sort of craft known to
navigation. The harbor is gay with the flags of all nations. Dozens of
ferry boats are crossing and recrossing from New York to the opposite
shores. Ships are constantly entering and leaving port, and the whole
scene bears the impress of the energy and activity that have made New
York the metropolis of America.

At night the scene is indescribably beautiful. The myriad stars in the
sky above are reflected in the dark bosom of the harbor. The dim
outlines of the shores are made more distinct by the countless rows of
lights that line them, and the many colored lamps of the ferry-boats, as
they dart back and forth over the waters, give to the scene a sort of
gala appearance.

There are several islands in the harbor, which have been entirely given
up to the United States Government for military purposes. The largest of
these is Governor's Island, formerly the property of the redoubtable
Wouter Van Twiller, and still called after him. It lies midway between
New York and Brooklyn, at the mouth of the East River. It embraces an
area of seventy-two acres, and is one of the principal military posts in
the harbor. Fort Columbus, in the centre of the island, is the principal
work. Castle William, on the west end, is a semi-circular work, with
three tiers of guns. Two strong batteries defend the passage known as
Buttermilk Channel, between the island and Brooklyn. In the early days
of the Dutch colony, this passage could be forded by cattle; now it is
passable by ships of war. These works are armed with upwards of 200
heavy guns. Ellis Island, 2050 yards southwest from the Battery
Light-House, contains Fort Gibson, mounting about twenty guns. Bedloe's
Island, 2950 yards southwest of the Battery Light-House, contains Fort
Wood, which is armed with eighty guns.

The best point from which to view the Inner Bay is the Battery Park, from
the sea-wall of which an uninterrupted view of the bay and both rivers
may be obtained.

III. THE CITY GOVERNMENT.

By the terms of the charter of 1870, the government of the City of New
York is vested in a Mayor, Common Council, consisting of Aldermen and
Assistant Aldermen, a Corporation Counsel, and Comptroller, all elected
by the people. There are also a Department of Public Works, which has
charge of the streets of the city, and the Croton Aqueduct and
Reservoirs; a Department of Docks, charged with the construction of new
piers, etc., along the harbor front; a Department of Public Parks; a Fire
Department; a Health Department; and a Police Board. The heads of all
these Departments are appointed by the Mayor of the city. Previous to
1870 the city was governed by a series of commissions appointed by the
Governor of the State, and the citizens were deprived of all voice in the
management of their own affairs. It was urged by the friends of the New
Charter, that that instrument restored to the citizens of New York the
right of self-government. Had its provisions been honestly carried out,
New York might have had a good government; but we shall see that they
were perverted by a band of corrupt men into the means of the grossest
oppression of the citizens.

For many years it was the habit of the respectable and educated classes
of New York to abstain from voting. Many, indeed, boasted that they were
utterly indifferent to politics; that it was immaterial to them which
party elected its candidates. Others thought that they could not spare
the time; and others still would not spare it. Again, there were those
whose refined tastes made them shrink from the coarse rabble that
surrounded the voting places. The reasons were almost as numerous as the
delinquents, and the result was that the best portion of the voters of
the city--those who were most interested in a good government--left the
control of public affairs entirely in the hands of the worst and most
vicious classes. As a natural consequence, the suffrage being exercised
chiefly by the ignorant and degraded, corrupt men availed themselves of
the opportunity afforded them, and, by bribery and kindred practices,
managed to secure their election to power. Once in office, they exerted
themselves to remain there. They were the rulers of the great Metropolis
of the Union, and, as such, possessed power and influence unequalled in
any city in the world. They controlled the public funds, and thus had an
opportunity of enriching themselves by robbing the people. They held in
their grasp all the machinery of elections, and, by filling the
ballot-boxes with fraudulent votes, and throwing out those which were
legally cast, they could, they believed, perpetuate their power. If
their strength in the Legislature of the State was inadequate to the
passage of the laws they favored, they robbed the city treasury to buy up
the members of the Legislature opposed to them, and it was found that
rural virtue was easily purchased at city prices. In this way they
secured the enactment of laws tending not only to enlarge and perpetuate
their powers, and to increase their opportunities for plunder, but also
to bar the way of the people should they awake from their criminal
carelessness, and seek to overthrow and punish them. It mattered very
little to the men who ruled the city of New York how the elections were
decided in the rural districts. They could always swell their vote in
the city to an extent sufficient to overcome any hostile majority in the
State; and they even boasted that they cared not how many votes were cast
against them in the city, as long as they "had the counting of them." In
this way they filled the statute-book with laws for the oppression and
injury of the people, and in this way they passed the New Charter of
1870, which they declared was meant to restore self-government to New
York, but which was really designed to continue themselves in power, and
break down the last obstacles between themselves and the city treasury.

In well-regulated municipal governments, the popular branch, the Common
Council, is designed to act, and does act, as a check upon the Executive
branch. In New York, a Common Council which thoroughly represented the
people of the city--the great commercial, social, and political
Metropolis of the Union--would have given the Executive branch of the
City Government no little trouble; but the respectable citizens were
indifferent to the selection of Councilmen, and the "Ring" took care that
the majority of the "City Fathers" were creatures of their own, under
obligations to them, and ready to sustain them in any outrage upon the
people.

The Common Council of the City of New York can hardly be termed a
representative body. It does not represent the honestly gotten wealth of
the city; for, though many of its members are wealthy, people look with
suspicion upon a rich Councilman. It does not represent the proud
intellectual character of New York; for there is scarcely a member who
has intellect or education enough to enable him to utter ten sentences in
good English. For many years the Councils have been composed of small
tradesmen, who found politics more profitable than their legitimate
callings, of bar-keepers, of men without social position in the city they
professed to represent, and many of whom were suspected of dishonest and
corrupt practices by their fellow-citizens. Indeed, it may be said,
that, with a very few exceptions, there was not a man in this important
body who possessed the respect or confidence of the citizens of New York.
They were elected by bribery and corruption, maintained their positions
by the same means, and enjoyed the favor and protection of the leaders of
their party, only by aiding the execution and covering up from
investigation the schemes of those men for their mutual engorgement at
the expense of the public treasury.

Mr. James Parton gives the following account of the proceedings of this
worshipful body:

"Debates is a ludicrous word to apply to the proceedings of the
Councilmen. Most of the business done by them is pushed through without
the slightest discussion, and is of such a nature that members cannot be
prepared to discuss it. The most reckless haste marks every part of the
performance. A member proposes that certain lots be provided with
curbstones; another, that a free drinking hydrant be placed on a certain
corner five miles up town; and another, that certain blocks of a distant
street be paved with Belgian pavement. Respecting the utility of these
works, members generally know nothing, and can say nothing; nor are they
proper objects of legislation. The resolutions are adopted, usually,
without a word of explanation, and at a speed that must be seen to be
appreciated.

* * * * *

"At almost every session we witnessed scenes like the following: A member
proposed to lease a certain building for a city court at $2000 a year for
ten years. Honest Christopher Pullman, a faithful and laborious public
servant, objected on one or two grounds; first, rents being unnaturally
high, owing to several well-known and temporary causes, it would be
unjust to the city to fix the rent at present rates for so long a period;
secondly, he had been himself to see the building, had taken pains to
inform himself as to its value, and was prepared to prove that $1200 a
year was a proper rent for it even at the inflated rates. He made this
statement with excellent brevity, moderation, and good temper, and
concluded by moving that the term be two instead of ten years. A robust
young man, with a bull neck and of ungrammatical habits, said, in a tone
of impatient disdain, that the landlord of the building had 'refused'
$1500 a year for it. 'Question!' 'Question!' shouted half a dozen angry
voices; the question was instantly put, when a perfect war of _noes_
voted down Mr. Pullman's amendment. Another hearty chorus of _ayes_
consummated the iniquity. In all such affairs, the visitor notices a
kind of ungovernable propensity to vote for spending money, and a prompt
disgust at any obstacle raised or objection made. The bull-necked
Councilman of uncertain grammar evidently felt that Mr. Pullman's modest
interference on behalf of the tax-payer was a most gross impertinence.
He felt himself an injured being, and his companions shared his
indignation.

"We proceed to another and better specimen: A resolution was introduced,
appropriating $4000 for the purpose of presenting stands of colors to
five regiments of city militia, which were named, each stand to cost
eight hundred dollars. Mr. Pullman, as usual, objected, and we beg the
reader to mark his objections. He said that he was a member of the
committee which had reported the resolution, but he had never heard of it
till that moment, the scheme had been 'sprung' upon him. The chairman of
the committee replied to this, that, since the other regiments had had
colors given them by the city, he did not suppose that any one could
object to these remaining five receiving the same compliment, and
therefore he had not thought it worth while to summon the gentleman.
'Besides,' said he, 'it is a small matter anyhow;'--by which he evidently
meant to intimate that the objector was a very small person. To this
last remark, a member replied, that he did not consider $4000 so very
small a matter. 'Anyhow,' he added, 'we oughter save the city every
dollar we kin.' Mr. Pullman resumed. He stated that the Legislature of
the State, several months before, had voted a stand of colors to each
infantry regiment in the State; that the distribution of these colors had
already begun; that the five regiments would soon receive them; and that,
consequently, there was no need of their having the colors which it was
now proposed to give them. A member roughly replied, that the colors
voted by the State Legislature were mere painted banners, 'of no
account.' Mr. Pullman denied this. 'I am,' said he, 'captain in one of
our city regiments. Two weeks ago we received our colors. I have seen,
felt, examined, and marched under them; and I can testify that they are
of great beauty, and excellent quality, made by Tiffany & Co., a firm of
the first standing in the city.' He proceeded to describe the colors as
being made of the best silk, and decorated in the most elegant manner.
He further objected to the price proposed to be given for the colors. He
declared that, from his connection with the militia, he had become
acquainted with the value of such articles, and he could procure colors
of the best kind ever used in the service for $375. The price named in
the resolution was, therefore, most excessive. Upon this, another member
rose and said, in a peculiarly offensive manner, that it would be two
years before Tiffany & Co. had made all the colors, and some of the
regiments would have to wait all that time. 'The other regiments,' said
he, 'have had colors presented by the city, and I don't see why we should
show partiality.' Whereupon Mr. Pullman informed the board that the
_city_ regiments would all be supplied in a few weeks; and, even if they
did have to wait awhile, it was of no consequence, for they all had very
good colors already. Honest Stephen Roberts then rose, and said that
this was a subject with which he was not acquainted, but that if no one
could refute what Mr. Pullman had said, he should be obliged to vote
against the resolution.

"Then there was a pause. The cry of 'Question!' was heard. The ayes and
noes were called. The resolution was carried by eighteen to five. The
learned suppose that one-half of this stolen $4000 was expended upon the
colors, and the other half divided among about forty persons. It is
conjectured that each member of the Councilmen's Ring, which consists of
thirteen, received about forty dollars for his vote on this occasion.
This sum, added to his pay, which is twenty dollars per session, made a
tolerable afternoon's work.

"Any one witnessing this scene would certainly have supposed that _now_
the militia regiments of the City of New York were provided with colors.
What was our surprise to hear, a few days after, a member gravely propose
to appropriate $800 for the purpose of presenting the Ninth Regiment of
New York Infantry with a stand of colors. Mr. Pullman repeated his
objections, and recounted anew the generosity of the State Legislature.
The eighteen, without a word of reply, voted for the grant as before. It
so chanced that, on our way up Broadway, an hour after, we met that very
regiment marching down with its colors flying; and we observed that those
colors were nearly new. Indeed, there is such a propensity in the public
to present colors to popular regiments, that some of them have as many as
five stands, of various degrees of splendor. There is nothing about
which Councilmen need feel so little anxiety as a deficiency in the
supply of regimental colors. When, at last, these extravagant banners
voted by the corporation are presented to the regiments, a new scene of
plunder is exhibited. The officers of the favored regiment are invited
to a room in the basement of the City Hall, where city officials assist
them to consume $300 worth of champagne, sandwiches, and cold
chicken--paid for out of the city treasury--while the privates of the
regiment await the return of their officers in the unshaded portion of
the adjacent park.

"It is a favorite trick with these councilmen, as of all politicians, to
devise measures, the passage of which will gratify large _bodies_ of
voters. This is one of the advantages proposed to be gained by the
presentation of colors to regiments; and the same system is pursued with
regard to churches and societies. At every one of the six sessions of
the Councilmen which we attended, resolutions were introduced to give
away the people's money to wealthy organizations. A church, for example,
is assessed $1000 for the construction of a sewer, which enhances the
value of the church property by at least the amount of the assessment.
Straightway, a member from that neighborhood proposes to console the
stricken church with a 'donation' of $1000, to enable it to pay the
assessment; and as this is a proposition to vote money, it is carried as
a matter of course. We select from our notes only one of these donating
scenes. A member proposed to give $2000 to a certain industrial
school,--the favorite charity of the present time, to which all the
benevolent most willingly subscribe. Vigilant Christopher Pullman
reminded the board that it was now unlawful for the corporation to vote
money for any object not specified in the tax levy as finally sanctioned
by the Legislature. He read the section of the Act which forbade it. He
further showed, from a statement by the Comptroller, that there was no
money left at their disposal for any _miscellaneous_ objects, since the
appropriation for 'city contingencies' was exhausted. The only reply to
his remarks was the instant passage of the resolution by eighteen to
five. By what artifice the law is likely to be evaded in such cases, we
may show further on. In all probability, the industrial school, in the
course of the year, will receive a fraction of this money--perhaps even
so large a fraction as one half. It may be that, ere now, some obliging
person about the City Hall has offered to buy the claim for $1000, and
take the risk of the hocus-pocus necessary for getting it--which to _him_
is no risk at all.

"It was proposed, on another occasion, to raise the fees of the
Inspectors of Weights and Measures--who received fifty cents for
inspecting a pair of platform scales, and smaller sums for scales and
measures of less importance. Here was a subject upon which honest
Stephen Roberts, whose shop is in a street where scales and measures
abound, was entirely at home. He showed, in his sturdy and strenuous
manner, that, at the rates then established, an active man could make
$200 a day. 'Why,' said he, 'a man can inspect, and does inspect, fifty
platform scales in an hour.' The cry of 'Question!' arose. The question
was put, and the usual loud chorus of _ayes_ followed.

"As it requires a three-fourths vote to grant money--that is, eighteen
members--it is sometimes impossible for the Ring to get that number
together. There is a mode of preventing the absence, or the opposition
of members, from defeating favorite schemes. It is by way of
'reconsideration.' The time was when a measure distinctly voted down by
a lawful majority was dead. But, by this expedient, the voting down of a
measure is only equivalent to its postponement to a more favorable
occasion. The moment the chairman pronounces a resolution lost, the
member who has it in charge moves a reconsideration; and, as a
reconsideration only requires the vote of a majority, _this_ is
invariably carried. By a rule of the board, a reconsideration carries a
measure over to a future meeting--to any future meeting which may afford
a prospect of its passage. The member who is engineering it watches his
chance, labors with faltering members out of doors, and, as often as he
thinks he can carry it, calls it up again, until at last the requisite
eighteen are obtained. It has frequently happened that a member has kept
a measure in a state of reconsideration for months at a time, waiting for
the happy moment to arrive. There was a robust young Councilman, who had
a benevolent project in charge of paying $900 for a hackney-coach and two
horses, which a drunken driver drove over the dock into the river one
cold night last winter. There was some disagreement in the Ring on this
measure, and the robust youth was compelled to move for many
reconsiderations. So, also, it was long before the wires could be all
arranged to admit of the appointment of a 'messenger' to the City
Librarian, who has perhaps less to do than any man in New York who is
paid $1800 a year; but perseverance meets its reward. We hear that this
messenger is now smoking in the City Hall at a salary of $1500.

"There is a manoeuvre also for preventing the attendance of obnoxious,
obstructive members, like the honest six, which is ingenious and
effective. A 'special meeting' is called. The law declares that notice
of a special meeting must be left at the residence or the place of
business of every member. Mr. Roberts's residence and Mr. Roberts's
place of business are eight miles apart, and he leaves his home for the
day before nine in the morning. If Mr. Roberts's presence at a special
meeting, at 2 P.M., is desired, the notice is left at his shop in the
morning. If it is not desired, the notice is sent to his house in
Harlem, after he has left it. Mr. Pullman, cabinet-maker, leaves his
shop at noon, goes home to dinner, and returns soon after one. If his
presence at the special meeting, at 2 P.M., is desired, the notice is
left at his house the evening before, or at his shop in the morning. If
his presence is not desired, the notice is left at his shop a few minutes
after twelve, or at his house a few minutes past one. In either case, he
receives the notice too late to reach the City Hall in time. We were
present in the Councilmen's Chamber when Mr. Pullman stated this
inconvenience, assuming that it was accidental, and offered an amendment
to the rule, requiring notice to be left five hours before the time named
for the meeting. Mr. Roberts also gave his experience in the matter of
notices, and both gentlemen spoke with perfect moderation and good
temper. We wish we could convey to our readers an idea of the brutal
insolence with which Mr. Pullman, on this occasion, was snubbed and
defrauded by a young bar-keeper who chanced to be in the chair. But this
would be impossible without relating the scene at very great length. The
amendment proposed was voted down, with that peculiar roar of _noes_
which is always heard in that chamber when some honest man attempts to
put an obstacle in the way of the free plunder of his fellow-citizens.

"These half-fledged legislators are acquainted with the device known by
the name of the 'previous question.' We witnessed a striking proof of
this. One of the most audacious and insolent of the Ring introduced a
resolution, vaguely worded, the object of which was to annul an old
paving contract, that would not pay at the present cost of labor and
materials, and to authorize a new contract at higher rates. Before the
clerk had finished reading the resolution, honest Stephen Roberts sprang
to his feet, and, unrolling a remonstrance with several yards of
signatures appended to it, stood, with his eye upon the chairman, ready
to present it the moment the reading was concluded. This remonstrance,
be it observed, was signed by a majority of the property-owners
interested, the men who would be assessed to pay for one-half of the
proposed pavement. Fancy the impetuous Roberts, with the document held
aloft, the yards of signatures streaming down to his feet, and flowing
far under his desk, awaiting the time when it would be in order to cry
out, 'Mr. President.' The reading ceased. Two voices were heard
shouting, 'Mr. President.' It was not to Mr. Roberts that an impartial
chairman could assign the floor. The member who introduced the
resolution was the one who caught the speaker's eye, and that member,
forewarned of Mr. Roberts's intention, moved the previous question. It
was in vain that Mr. Roberts shouted 'Mr. President;' it was in vain that
he fluttered his streaming ribbon of blotted paper. The President could
not hear a word of any kind until a vote had been taken upon the question
whether the main question should now be put. The question was carried in
the affirmative by a chorus of _ayes_, so exactly timed that it was like
the voice of one man. Then the main question _was_ put, and it was
carried by another emphatic and simultaneous shout."

Under the rule of such a Council the public money disappeared. Men who
went into the Council poor came out of it rich. Taxes increased, the
cost of governing the city became greater, crime flourished, and the
chief city of the Union became noted for its corrupt government.

IV. "THE RING."

I. THE HISTORY OF THE RING.

We have spoken of the outrages practised upon the citizens of New York by
the Common Council of that city. We must now turn our attention to the
other branches of the City Government, and investigate the conduct of the
real rulers of New York.

For several years the political power and patronage has been lodged in
the hands of, and exercised by a set of men commonly known as "_The
Ring_." They rose to power in consequence of the neglect of their
political duties by the respectable citizens of New York, and, having
attained power, were not slow in arranging affairs so that their
ill-gotten authority might be perpetuated. They controlled the elections
by bribery, and the fraudulent counting of votes, and so filled the
elective offices with their own creatures. Having done this, they
proceeded to appoint to the other offices only such men as were bound to
them, and whom they could trust to cover up their mutual dishonesty.
Competency to discharge the duties of the offices thus given was not once
considered. The Ring cared only for men who would unite in plundering
the public treasury, and be vigilant in averting the detection of the
theft. They wanted to exercise political power, it is true, but they
also desired to enrich themselves at the public expense.

Having secured the city offices, with the control of the finances, the
police, the fire department, and the immense patronage of the city, they
believed themselves strong enough to hold all they had won. They did not
believe that the people of New York would ever awake to a true sense of
their public duties, and, if they did, the Ring felt confident that they
could control any election by filling the ballot-boxes with fraudulent
votes. In many cases money was taken from the city treasury, and used to
purchase votes for the Ring or Tammany Hall ticket. It was also used to
bribe inspectors of elections to certify any returns that the leaders of
the Ring might decide upon; and it came to be a common saying in New York
that the Tammany ticket could always command a majority in the city
sufficient to neutralize any hostile vote in the rest of the State. If
the leaders of the Ring desired a majority of 25,000, 30,000, or any
number, in the city, that majority was returned, and duly sworn to by the
inspectors of election, even by those of the party opposed to the Ring;
for money was used unsparingly to buy dishonest inspectors.

As a matter of course, no honest man took part in these disgraceful acts,
and the public offices passed, almost without exception, into the hands
of the most corrupt portion of the population. They were also the most
ignorant and brutal. The standard of education is, perhaps, lower among
the public officials of New York than among any similar body in the land.
Men whose personal character was infamous; men who were charged by the
newspaper press, and some of whom had been branded by courts of justice
with felonies, were elected or appointed to responsible offices. The
property, rights and safety of the greatest and most important city in
the land, were entrusted to a band of thieves and swindlers. The result
was what might have been expected. Public interests were neglected; the
members of the Ring were too busy enriching themselves at the expense of
the treasury to attend to the wants of the people. The City Government
had never been so badly administered before, and the only way in which
citizens could obtain their just rights was by paying individual members
of the Ring or their satellites to attend to their particular cases. It
was found almost impossible to collect money due by the city to private
parties; but, at the same time, the Ring drew large sums from the public
treasury. Men who were notoriously poor when they went into office were
seen to grow suddenly and enormously rich. They made the most public
displays of their suddenly acquired magnificence, and, in many ways, made
themselves so offensive to their respectable neighbors, that the virtue
and intelligence of the city avoided all possible contact with them.
Matters finally became so bad that a man laid himself open to grave
suspicion by the mere holding of a municipal office. Even the few good
men who retained public positions, and whom the Ring had not been able,
or had not dared, to displace, came in for a share of the odium attaching
to all offices connected with the City Government. It was unjust, but
not unnatural. So many office-holders were corrupt that the people
naturally regarded all as in the same category.

In order to secure undisturbed control of the city, the Ring took care to
win over the Legislature of the State to their schemes. There was a
definite and carefully arranged programme carried out with respect to
this. The delegation from the City of New York was mainly secured by the
Ring, and agents were sent to Albany to bribe the members of the
Legislature to vote for the schemes of the Ring. Mr. Samuel J. Tilden,
in his speech at Cooper Institute, November 2, 1871, says that
$1,000,000, stolen from the treasury of the city, were used by the Ring
to buy up a majority of the two Houses of the Legislature. By means of
these purchased votes, the various measures of the Ring were passed. The
principal measure was the Charter of the City of New York. "Under the
pretence of giving back to the people of the City of New York local
self-government, they provided that the Mayor then in office should
appoint all the heads of Departments for a period of at least four years,
and in some cases extending to eight, and that when those heads of
Departments, _already privately agreed upon_, were once appointed they
should be removable only by the Mayor, who could not be impeached except
on his own motion, and then must be tried by a court of six members,
every one of whom must be present in order to form a quorum. And then
they stripped every legislative power, and every executive power from
every other functionary of the government, and vested it in half a dozen
men so installed for a period of from four to eight years in supreme
dominion over the people of this city." {78}

Besides passing this infamous charter, the Ring proceeded to fortify
their position with special legislation, designed to protect them against
any effort of the citizens to drive them from office, or punish them.
This done, they had unlimited control of all the public affairs, and
could manage the elections as they pleased, and they believed they were
safe.

The "Committee of Seventy," appointed by the citizens of New York to
investigate the charges against the municipal authorities, thus speak of
the effect of the adoption of the New Charter, in their report presented
at the great meeting at Cooper Institute, on the 2d of November, 1871:

"There is not in the history of villainy a parallel for the gigantic
crime against property conspired by the Tammany Ring. It was engineered
on the complete subversion of free government in the very heart of
Republicanism. An American city, having a population of over a million,
was disfranchised by an open vote of a Legislature born and nurtured in
Democracy and Republicanism, and was handed over to a self-appointed
oligarchy, to be robbed and plundered by them and their confederates,
heirs and assigns for six years certainly, and prospectively for ever. A
month's exhumation among the crimes of the Tammany leaders has not so
familiarized us with the political paradox of the New Charter of the City
of New York, that we do not feel that it is impossible that the people of
this State gave to a gang of thieves, politicians by profession, a
charter to govern the commercial metropolis of this continent--the great
city which is to America what Paris is to France--to govern it with a
government made unalterable for the sixteenth part of a century, which
substantially deprived the citizens of self-control, nullified their
right to suffrage, nullified the principle of representation--which
authorized a handful of cunning and resolute robbers to levy taxes,
create public debt, and incur municipal liabilities without limit and
without check, and which placed at their disposal the revenues of the
great municipality and the property of all its citizens.

"Every American will say: 'It is incredible that this has been done.'
But the history of the paradox is over two years old. And it is a
history of theft, robbery, and forgery, which have stolen and divided
twenty millions of dollars; which have run up the city debt from
$36,000,000 in 1869 to $97,000,000 in 1871, and which will be
$120,000,000 by August, 1872; which have paid to these robbers millions
of dollars for work never performed and materials never furnished; which
paid astoundingly exorbitant rents to them for offices and armories, many
of which were never occupied and some of which did not exist--which
remitted their taxes, released their indebtedness, and remitted their
rents, to the city due and owing--which ran the machinery for widening,
improving and opening streets, parks and boulevards, to enable these men
to speculate in assessed damages and greatly enhanced values--which
created unnecessary offices with large salaries and no duties, in order
to maintain a force of ruffianly supporters and manufacturers of
votes--which used millions of dollars to bribe and corrupt newspapers,
the organs of public opinion, in violation of laws which narrowly limited
the public advertising--which camped within the city a reserve army of
voters by employing thousands of laborers at large pay upon nominal work,
neither necessary nor useful--which bought legislatures and purchased
judgments from courts both civil and criminal.

* * * * *

"Fellow-citizens of the City and State of New York, this report of the
doings of the Committee of Seventy would be incomplete if it did not
fully unfold to you the perils and the difficulties of our condition.
You know too well that the Ring which governs us for years governed our
Legislatures by bribing their members with moneys stolen from their
trusts. That, seemingly, was supreme power and immunity. But it was not
enough. A City Charter to perpetuate power was needed. It was easily
bought of a venal Legislature with the proceeds of a new scoop into the
city treasury. Superadded to this the Ring had devised a system,
faultless and absolutely sure, of counting their adversaries in an
election out of office and of counting their own candidates in, or of
rolling up majorities by repeating votes and voting in the names of the
absent, the dead, and the fictitious. Still their intrenched camp of
villainy was incomplete. It was deficient in credit. This is a ghastly
jest, the self-investment of the robbers of the world with a boundless
financial credit. And yet the Ring clothed themselves with it. They
entrenched themselves within the imposing limits of some of our most
powerful bank and trust companies. They created many savings banks out
of the forty-two which exist in the city and county of New York. This
they did within the last two years. The published lists of directors
will enable you to identify these institutions. Now the savings bank is
a place to which money travels to be taken care of; and if the bank has
the public confidence, people put their money in it freely at low rates
of interest, and the managers use the funds in whatever way they please.
In the Ring savings banks there are on deposit to-day, at nominal rates
of interest, many millions of dollars. It is believed that into these
banks the Ring have taken the city's obligations and converted them into
money, which has been sent flowing into the various channels of wasteful
administration, out of which they have drawn into their pockets millions
on millions. The craft of this contrivance was profound. It wholly
avoided the difficulty of raising money on the unlawful and excessive
issues of city and county bonds, and took out of public sight
transactions which, if pressed upon the national banks, would have
provoked comment and resistance, and have precipitated the explosion
which has shaken the country. I think that among the assets of the
savings banks of this city, county and State will be found not far from
$50,000,000 of city and county debt taken for permanent investment. For
the first time in the history of iniquity has the bank for the saving of
the wages of labor been expressly organized as a part of a system of
robbery; and for the first time in the history of felony have the workmen
and workwomen, and the orphans and the children of a great city
unwittingly cashed the obligations issued by a gang of thieves and
plunderers."

Having made themselves secure, as they believed, the Ring laughed at the
idea of punishment, if detected. They not only controlled the elections,
but they also controlled the administration of justice. The courts were
filled with their creatures, and were so distorted from the purposes of
the law and the ends of justice, that no friend of the Ring had any cause
to fear punishment at their hands, however great his crime. The majority
of the crimes committed in the city were the acts of the adherents of the
Ring, but they escaped punishment, as a rule, except when a sacrifice to
public opinion was demanded. If the criminal happened to be a politician
possessing any influence among the disreputable classes, he was sure of
acquittal. The magistrate before whom he was tried, dared not convict
him, for fear of incurring either his enmity, or the censure of the
leaders of the Ring to whom his influence was of value. So crime of all
kinds increased in the city.

[Picture: A. OAKEY HALL, MAYOR OF NEW YORK.]

Under the protection of the New Charter, the Ring began a systematic
campaign of robbery. Section four of the County Tax Levy, one of their
measures, provided that liabilities against the county, the limits of
which coincide with those of the city, should be audited by the Mayor,
the Comptroller and the President of the Board of Supervisors, or in
other words, Mayor Hall, Comptroller Connolly, and Mr. William M. Tweed,
and that the amount found to be due should be paid. "These Auditors,"
says Mr. Tilden, "met but once. They then passed a resolution, which
stands on the records of the city in the handwriting of Mayor Hall. It
was passed on his motion, and what was its effect? It provided that all
claims certified by Mr. Tweed and Mr. Young, Secretary of the old Board
of Supervisors, should be received, and, on sufficient evidence, paid."
Thus the door was thrown open to fraud, and the crime soon followed.
"Mayor Hall," continues Mr. Tilden, "is the responsible man for all this.
He knew it was a fraudulent violation of duty on the part of every member
of that Board of Audit to pass claims in the way they did."

The door being thus thrown open to fraud, the thefts of the public funds
became numerous. All the appropriations authorized by law were quickly
exhausted, and large sums of money were drawn from the treasury, without
the slightest warrant of law.

[Picture: WILLIAM M. TWEED.]

The new Court House in the City Hall Park was a perfect gold mine to the
Ring. Immense sums were paid out of the treasury for work upon this
building, which is still unfinished. Very little of this money was spent
on the building, the greater part being retained, or stolen by the Ring
for their own private benefit. The Court House has thus far cost
$12,000,000, and is unfinished. During the years 1869, 1870, and a part
of 1871, the sum of about $8,223,979.89 was expended on the new Court
House. During this period, the legislative appropriation for this
purpose amounted to only $1,400,000. The Houses of Parliament in London,
which cover an area of nearly eight acres, contain 100 staircases, 1100
apartments and more than two miles of corridors, and constitute one of
the grandest architectural works of the world, cost less than
$10,000,000. The Capitol of the United States at Washington, the largest
and most magnificent building in America, will cost, when completed,
about $12,000,000, yet, the unfinished Court House in New York has
already cost more than the gorgeous Houses of Parliament, and as much as
the grand Capitol of the Republic.

[Picture: THE NEW COUNTY COURT HOUSE]

The Court House was not the only means made use of to obtain money.
Heavy sums were drawn for printing, stationery, and the city armories,
and upon other pretexts too numerous to mention. It would require a
volume to illustrate and rehearse entire the robberies of the Ring.
Valid claims against the city were refused payment unless the creditor
would consent to add to his bill a sum named by, and for the use of, the
Ring. Thus, a man having a claim of $1500 against the city, would be
refused payment until he consented to make the amount $6000, or some such
sum. If he consented, he received his $1500 without delay, and the $4500
was divided among the members of the Ring. When a sum sufficient for the
demands of the Ring could not be obtained by the connivance of actual
creditors, forgery was resorted to. Claims were presented in the name of
men who had no existence, who cannot now be found, and they were paid.
The money thus paid went, as the recent investigations have shown, into
the pockets of members of the Ring. Further than this, if Mr. John H.
Keyser is to be believed, the Ring did not hesitate to forge the
endorsements of living and well-known men. He says: "The published
accounts charge that I have received upwards of $2,000,000 from the
treasury. Among the warrants which purport to have been paid to me for
county work alone _there are upwards of eight hundred thousand dollars
which I never received nor saw_, _and the endorsements on which_, _in my
name_, ARE CLEAR AND UNMISTAKABLE FORGERIES."

Another means of purloining money is thus described by Mr. Abram P.
Genung, in a pamphlet recently issued by him:

"A careful examination of the books and pay-roll (of the Comptroller's
Office) developed the important fact that the titles of several accounts
might be duplicated by using different phraseology to convey the same
meaning; and that by making up pay-rolls, by using fictitious names of
persons alleged to be temporarily employed in his (the Comptroller's)
department, he could even cheat the 'heathen Chinee,' who had invited him
to take a hand in this little game of robbery. Hence, Mr. 'Slippery' set
about finding additional titles for several of the accounts, and in this
way 'Adjusted Claims' and 'County Liabilities' became synonymous terms,
and all moneys drawn on either account, instead of being charged to any
appropriation, became a part of the permanent debt of the city and
county. Under the same skilful manipulation, 'County Contingencies,' and
'Contingencies in the Comptroller's Office' meant the same thing, as did
also the amount charged to 'Contingencies in the Department of Finance,'
generally charged in the city accounts to make it less conspicuous.
Again, there are three distinct pay-rolls in the County Bureau. One of
these contains the names of all the clerks regularly employed in the
Bureau, and about a dozen names of persons who hold sinecure positions,
or have no existence. The other two rolls contain about forty names, the
owners of which, if, indeed, they have any owners, have never worked an
hour in the department. The last two rolls are called 'Temporary Rolls,'
and the persons whose names are on them are said to be 'Temporary Clerks'
in the Comptroller's Office. One of them is paid out of the regular
appropriation of 'Salaries Executive,' but the other is paid out of a
fund raised by the sale of 'Riot Damages Indemnity Bonds,' and becomes a
part of the permanent debt of the county. Again, there are no less than
five different accounts to which repairs and furniture for any of the
public offices, or the armories of the National Guard, can be charged;
while more than half of the aggregate thus paid out, is not taken out of
any appropriation, but is raised by the sale of revenue bonds or other
securities, which may be converted at the pleasure of the Comptroller
into long bonds, which will not be payable until 1911--forty years after
many of the frauds which called them into existence shall have been
successfully consummated by Connolly and his colleagues. . . .

"When it becomes necessary to place a man in an important position, or a
position where he must necessarily become acquainted with the secrets of
the office, some one who is already in the confidence of the thieves
throws out a hint that their intended victim can make $100 or $200 a
month, in addition to his salary, by placing one or two fictitious names
on one of the rolls, and drawing the checks for the salaries to which
actual claimants would be entitled at the end of each month.. This
involves the necessity of signing the fictitious names on the payroll or
voucher, when the check is received, and endorsing the same name on the
check before the bank will cash it. . . . So long as he is willing to do
their bidding, and to embark in every description of rascality at their
dictation, he can go along very smoothly; but if he should become
troublesome at any time, or if he should show any conscientious scruples
when called upon to execute the will of his masters, they would turn him
adrift without an hour's warning, and crush him, with the evidence of his
guilt in their possession, if he had the hardihood to whisper a word
about the nefarious transactions he had witnessed."

We have not the space to enumerate the various methods of plundering the
city adopted by the Ring. What we have given will enable the reader to
obtain a clear insight into their system. During the years 1869 and
1870, the following sums were paid by the Comptroller:

$
Keyser & Co. 1,561,619.42
Ingersoll & Co. 3,006,391.72
C. D. Bollar & Co. 951,911.84
J. A. Smith 809,298.96
A. G. Miller 626,896.74
Geo. S. Miller 1,568,447.62
A. J. Garvey and others 3,112,590.34
G. L. Schuyler 463,039.27
J. McBride Davidson 404,347.72
E. Jones & Co. 341,882.18
Chas. H. Jacobs 164,923.17
Archibald Hall, jr. 349,062.85
J. W. Smith 53,852.83
New York Printing Co. 2,042,798.99
Total 15,457,063.65

These are the figures given by the "Joint Committee of Supervisors and
Aldermen appointed to investigate the public accounts of the City and
County of New York." {86} In their report, presented about the 9th of
October, 1871, they say: "Your Committee find that immense sums have been
paid for services which have not been performed, for materials which have
not been furnished, and to employes who are unknown in the offices from
which they draw their salaries. Also, that parties having just claims
upon the city, failing to obtain payment therefor, have assigned their
claims to persons officially or otherwise connected with different
departments, who have in many instances fraudulently increased their
amounts, and drawn fourfold the money actually due from the city. Thus
it appears in the accounts that hundreds of thousands of dollars have
been paid to private parties who positively deny the receipt of the
money, or any knowledge whatever of the false bills representing the
large sums paid to them. These investigations compel the belief that not
only the most reckless extravagance, but frauds and peculations of the
grossest character have been practised in several of the departments, and
that these must have been committed in many instances with the knowledge
and cooperation of those appointed, and whose sworn duty it was to guard
and protect the public interests."

Under the management of the Ring, the cost of governing the city was
about thirty millions of dollars annually. The city and county debt
(practically the same, since both are paid by the citizens of New York,)
was doubled every two years. On the 1st of January, 1869, it was
$36,000,000. By January 1st, 1871, it had increased to $73,000,000. On
the 14th of September, 1871, it was $97,287,525, and the Citizens'
Committee declare that there is grave reason to believe that it will
reach $120,000,000 during the present year (1871).

For several years the Ring continued their robberies of the treasury,
enriching themselves and bringing the city nearer to bankruptcy every
year. Taxes increased, property was assessed for improvements that were
never made, and the assessments were rigorously collected. Large sums
were paid for cleaning the streets, which streets were kept clean only by
the private subscriptions of the citizens residing in them, as the writer
can testify from his personal experience. The burdens of the people
became heavier and heavier, and the members of the Ring grew richer and
richer. They built them palatial residences in the city, and their
magnificent equipages were the talk of the town. They gave sumptuous
entertainments, they flaunted their diamonds and jewels in the eyes of a
dumbfounded public, they made ostentatious gifts to the poor, and
munificent subscriptions to cathedrals and churches, _all with money
stolen from the city_; and with this same money they endeavored to
control the operations of Wall street, the great financial centre of the
Republic. They built them country seats, the beauty and magnificence of
which were duly set forth in the illustrated journals of the day; and
they surrounded themselves with every luxury they could desire--all with
money stolen from the city. Did any man dare to denounce their
robberies, they turned upon him with one accord, and the whole power of
the Ring was used to crush their daring assailant. They encouraged their
adherents to levy blackmail upon the citizens of New York, and it came to
be well understood in the great city that no man, however innocent,
arrested on a civil process, could hope to regain the liberty which was
his birthright, without paying the iniquitous toll levied upon him by
some portion of the Ring. Even the great writ of Habeas Corpus--the very
bulwark of our liberties--was repeatedly set at defiance by the
underlings of the Ring, for the purpose of extorting money from some
innocent man who had fallen into their clutches.

The Ring was all-powerful in the great city, and they there built up an
organized despotism, the most infamous known to history. No man's
rights, no man's liberties were safe, if he ventured to oppose them.
They even sought to strike down freedom of speech and the liberty of the
press. Mr. Samuel J. Tilden, in the speech from which we have quoted
before in this chapter, makes this distinct charge against them. He
says: "Mr. Evarts went to Albany last year, and carried with him my
protest against the passage of the law giving to the judges a power
unknown in the jurisprudence of this State--unknown in the jurisprudence
of the United States for the last thirty years--_whereby it was secured
that any member of the City Government that might be offended_, _could
put his hand upon the city press_, _and suppress its liberties and
freedom of speech_."

How long all this would have continued, it is impossible to say, had it
not pleased God that there should be jealousies and dissensions amongst
the members of the Ring strong enough to break even the infamous bonds
that had so long bound them together.

The citizens of New York had for some time been slowly coming to the
conclusion that they were losing their rights and property, and had been
seeking for some legal means of attacking and overthrowing the Ring.
Their great necessity was absolute and definite proof of fraud on the
part of certain individuals. This was for a long time lacking, but it
came at length. In July, 1871, a former prominent member of the Ring,
having quarrelled with the Ring over a claim of three or four hundred
thousand dollars, which Mr. Tweed had refused to allow, avenged himself
by causing the publication of a series of the public accounts,
transcribed from the books of the Comptroller. These accounts showed the
millions that had been fraudulently paid away for work which had never
been done, and furnished the first definite evidence of fraud on the part
of the members of the Ring that had been given to the public. The press,
with the exception of a few unimportant sheets owned or controlled by the
Ring, denounced the frauds, and demanded an investigation of the public
accounts. Mayor Hall, William M. Tweed, Richard B. Connolly, and all the
greater and lesser magnates of the Ring were implicated in the terrible
story told by the published accounts. The respectable citizens, without
regard to party, at once joined in the demand, and expressed their
determination to put an end to the power of the Ring. The whole
land--nay the whole civilized world--rang with a universal cry of
indignation. The temper of the citizens was such as admitted of no
trifling.

The publication of the Comptroller's accounts, which revealed the
stupendous system of fraud they had practised so successfully, burst upon
the Ring like a clap of thunder from a clear sky. It not only surprised
them, but it demoralized them. They were fairly stunned. At first they
affected to treat the whole matter as a partisan outburst which would
soon "blow over." Some of the more timid took counsel of their fears and
fled from the city, some even quitting the country. The more hardened
endeavored "to brave it out," and defiantly declared that the citizens
could not molest them. All the while the wrath of the people grew
hotter, and the demand for the publication of the Comptroller's accounts
became more urgent. Comptroller Connolly, conscious of his guilt, met
this demand with vague promises of compliance. Mayor Hall set himself to
work to prove that the whole affair was a mistake, that no money had been
stolen, that the City Government had been unjustly assailed, and by his
ill-advised efforts drew upon himself a larger share of the public
indignation and suspicion than had previously been accorded to him. The
great object of the Ring was to gain time. They meant that the
Comptroller's accounts should not be published, and to accomplish this
they began the attempt to get possession of the Comptroller's office, the
records of which contained the evidence of their crimes. With this
important department in their hands they could suppress this evidence,
or, if driven to desperation, destroy it. A council of the leaders of
the Ring was called, at which it was resolved to get Mr. Connolly out of
the Comptroller's office, and to put in his place a creature of their
own. They did not dare, however, to make an effort to oust Connolly,
without having some plausible pretext for their action. They feared that
he would expose their mutual villainy, and involve them in his ruin, and
they wished to prevent this. Still, they resolved to get rid of him, and
their plan was first to crush him, and thus prevent his exposing them.
We shall see how their plan worked.

Meanwhile the public indignation had been growing stronger daily. On the
4th of September, 1871, a large and harmonious meeting of citizens,
without regard to party, was held at Cooper Institute. At this meeting
it was resolved to compel an exposure of the frauds practised upon the
people, and to punish the guilty parties; and committees were appointed,
money subscribed, and the best legal talent in the city retained for that
purpose. A reform movement to carry the November elections in the
interest of the citizens and tax-payers was inaugurated, and the power of
the courts was invoked to put a stop to the further expenditure of the
city funds. The popular sentiment was too strong to be mistaken, and
some of the leading officials, and several journals which had previously
supported the Ring, took the alarm and entered the ranks of the party of
Reform. The Democratic party of the State repudiated the Ring, and it
was plain that the Tammany ticket would be supported only by the lowest
classes of the city voters. The members of the Ring were now thoroughly
aroused to the danger which threatened them; but, true to their corrupt
instincts, they endeavored to meet it by fraud. They appointed a
Committee of Aldermen to act with the Citizens' Committee in the
investigation of the alleged frauds, and then withheld from them all
evidence that could be of service to them.

The Comptroller's office contained not only the accounts of moneys paid
out, but also the vouchers for all sums expended, properly signed and
sworn to by the parties receiving the money, and these vouchers
constituted the principal proof of the frauds. On Monday, September
11th, the city was startled by the announcement that the office of the
Comptroller had been forcibly entered during the previous day, Sunday,
and that the vouchers covering the principal transactions of the Ring had
been stolen. It was a bold deed, and was so thoroughly characteristic of
the Ring, that the public at once attributed it to that body. The Ring
on their part endeavored to produce the belief that the Comptroller had
stolen the vouchers to screen himself. Mayor Hall immediately wrote a
peremptory letter to Mr. Connolly, asking him to resign his position as
he (the Comptroller) had lost the confidence of the people. Mr. Connolly
was not slow to perceive that the Ring were determined to sacrifice him
to secure their own safety, and he declined to become their victim. He
not only refused to resign his position at Mayor Hall's demand, but set
to work vigorously to discover and bring to light the persons who had
stolen the vouchers. To have stolen the vouchers himself, or to have
countenanced the robbery, would have been worse than folly on the part of
the Comptroller. It would have damaged him fatally with the citizens,
who were disposed to deal lightly with him if he would aid them in
getting at and punishing the villainies of his former confederates.
There was no reason why he should seek to screen the Ring, for they made
no secret of their intention to destroy him. In view, therefore, of the
facts as at present known, it seems certain that the theft was brought
about by the Ring for the purpose of throwing the suspicion of the crime
upon the Comptroller, and thus giving them a pretext for crushing him.

Wisely for himself, Mr. Connolly determined to let the Ring shift for
themselves, and throw himself upon the mercy of the Reform party. He
withdrew from the active discharge of the duties of his office, and
appointed Mr. Andrew H. Green--an eminent citizen, possessing the respect
and confidence of all parties--his deputy, with full powers, and avowed
his determination to do his utmost to afford the Citizens' Committee a
full and impartial investigation of his affairs. The Ring made great
efforts to prevent his withdrawal, or, rather, the appointment of Mr.
Green. Says Mr. Samuel J. Tilden, who was the real cause of this action
on Mr. Connolly's part, and who was the acknowledged leader of the Reform
Democracy during the contest:

"When Mr. Connolly came to my house on that morning on which he executed
an abdication in favor of Mr. Green, he was accompanied by two counsel,
one of whom was half an hour behind time, and I learned, not from him,
but from other sources, that he spent that half hour at the house of
Peter B. Sweeny. When the conference went on, he said, not speaking for
himself individually, but still he would state the views taken by other
friends of Mr. Connolly as to what he should do. He said he was assured
that some respectable man would be put in the office of Comptroller, and
that then he would say to Mr. Booth, of the Common Council Committee, and
to the Committee of Seventy: 'I am competent to make every necessary
investigation myself.' And that then everything that would hurt the
party would be kept back; and that was the consideration presented to Mr.
Connolly in my presence, and in the presence of Mr. Havemeyer and the two
counsel. I told Mr. Connolly that the proposition was wrong, and would
fail, and ought to fail; that no man had character enough to shut off the
injured and indignant citizens from the investigation desired; and if he
attempted to do it, it would ruin everybody concerned in it, and plunge
him in a deeper ruin. That his only chance and hope was in doing right
from that day, and throwing himself upon the charity and humanity of
those who had been wronged."

Failing to prevent the appointment of Mr. Green, the Ring endeavored to
ignore it. The Mayor professed to regard the Comptroller's withdrawal
from his office as a resignation of his post. He at once announced his
acceptance of this resignation, and proceeded to appoint a successor to
Mr. Connolly. Here, however, the Ring met with another defeat. During
the early part of 1871, Mr. Connolly had some idea of visiting Europe,
and, in order to keep prying eyes from his official records, had procured
the passage of a law by the Legislature, authorizing him to appoint a
Deputy-Comptroller, who "shall, in addition to his other powers, possess
every power, and perform every duty belonging to the office of
Comptroller, whenever the said Comptroller shall, by due written
authority, and during a period to be specified in such authority,
designate and authorize the said Deputy-Comptroller to possess the power
and perform the duty aforesaid." Mr. Connolly thus had the legal power
to appoint Mr. Green, and the Mayor's refusal to recognize the
appointment was mere bombast. The best legal talent in New York
sustained Mr. Connolly, and the Mayor's own law officer advised him that
he must respect the appointment; and so the statute that had been framed
for the protection of the Ring was unexpectedly used for their
destruction.

[Picture: THE ROBBERY OF THE VOUCHERS]

Still another discomfiture awaited the Ring. A few days after the
appointment of Mr. Green, a servant girl employed in the family of the
janitor of the new Court House, unexpectedly revealed, under oath, the
manner in which the vouchers were stolen from the Comptroller's office,
and the names of the thieves. Her sworn statement is as follows:

"_City and County of New York_, _ss_.--Mary Conway, being duly sworn,
doth depose and say: I have lived with Mr. and Mrs. Haggerty, in the
County Court-House, for over fourteen months, as cook; for about three or
four months I did general housework; on Sunday morning, September 10th, I
got out of bed with the child that slept with me, wanting to get up; I
don't know whether it was half-past six or seven o'clock; Mrs. Haggerty
came into the room in her night-dress; and said to me, 'it is too early
to get up yet;' I said to her, 'being as I am up I guess I will dress
myself;' as I was dressed I went out into the hall; I heard a knocking
down stairs; I said to Mrs. Haggerty, 'it sounds as if it was at the
Comptroller's door;' I went over to the kitchen, unlocked the kitchen
door, and went down stairs to the head of the stairs that leads to the
Comptroller's hall; I saw Charley Baulch knocking at the Comptroller's
door, and calling, 'Murphy, are you there?' Murphy is a watchman; I came
up stairs and went back to the kitchen; shortly after I went down stairs
again and saw Charley Baulch with the door of the Comptroller's office
open, he holding it back on the outside, and I saw Mr. Haggerty come out
of the door with bundles of papers in his arms and bring them up to his
bedroom; the door where he came out is at the foot of the stairs, where
the glass is broken, going into the County Bureau; I came back, and did
not go down any more; each bundle of papers was tied with either a pink
tape or a pink ribbon round them; the next thing, I went over from the
kitchen out into the hall for a scuttle of coal; in this hall Mr.
Haggerty's bedroom door faced me; I saw a man with gray clothes going in
there with another bundle of papers like what Mr. Haggerty had; then I
brought back the coal to the kitchen, and put it on the fire; the next I
saw was this man with the gray clothes going down with a pillow-case on
his back, full, that looked as though filled with papers, shaped like the
bundles Mr. Haggerty had; at the same time he went down the stairs
Charley Baulch said to him, 'This way;' I kind of judged there was
something up, and I went to look in the drawer where the pillow-cases
were, and I missed one of the linen pillow-cases; I did this soon
afterward; soon after the man went down with the pillow-case, Mrs.
Haggerty came into the kitchen, giving me a key, and telling me to go
over to the drying-room; that is a room separate from the bedrooms; there
was a chest there full of linen, table linen and bed linen, and silver
right down in the bottom; she told me to get a nut-picker and bring it
over, as Mr. Haggerty wanted one; I took all the clothes out of the
trunk, and got the nut-picker and brought it back to her, and before I
got into the kitchen I said to Mrs. Haggerty, 'What is the matter? The
kitchen's all black with smoke, and the dining room's all black with
smoke.' She said, 'Mr. Haggerty wanted these papers burned, I told him
not to put them in, but he wants them burned;' I went over to the range
to cook some eggs for breakfast; it was full of burned papers on the top
and in the bottom; there lay a bundle of papers on the top that were
about half burned, with a piece of pink tape around them; I put on the
cover again; they were partly smothered, going out; Mrs. Haggerty had a
poker stirring up the papers on the top and underneath, where the ashes
were; the bottom of the range was full of burning papers, and Mrs.
Haggerty had the poker stirring them up so that they would burn faster;
from underneath the range and the top she took three or four pailfuls of
burned papers and emptied them up stairs on the attic floor, in a heap of
ashes.

"On Tuesday next, when Mrs. Haggerty came home from the market, she asked
me if there was anything new about this robbery in the Comptroller's
office; I told her I did not know; I didn't hear nothing, no more than a
man came up stairs to-day, and asked me if I let anybody in on Sunday, or
if I knew anybody to come into the building on Sunday; I told him I did
not know who came in; I didn't attend to the front door; I was cooking,
and had nothing to do with the front door; and I asked the man who sent
him up stairs; and he said a man down in the hall sent him up stairs to
inquire; next, I told Mrs. Haggerty that if I had known it was Charley
Baulch sent him up stairs to find any information from me, I should have
told the man to go down stairs, that Charley Baulch knew as much about it
as I did, and more, for he was one of the men that helped to rob it; she
said to me, 'Christ! If Charley Baulch knowed that, he'd run into the
East River and drown himself--if he knowed you saw him;' this was on
Tuesday night I told her this; Mr. Haggerty left town on Tuesday, saying
he was going to Saratoga with Hank Smith, and he would be home on
Thursday or Friday, and on Wednesday night he got home from Saratoga;
Mrs. Haggerty told him the remarks that I made to her on Tuesday night
about the robbery; that I saw all that passed; she told me on Thursday
morning that she told Mr. Haggerty about it all, last night; that he was
going to wash his feet, but he felt so bad over it; they sat up for two
hours in the room talking, and he didn't wash his feet; on Thursday
morning when Mr. Haggerty came into the kitchen, he came to me, running
in, and said, 'Mary!' I said, 'Sir!' Said he, 'I don't want you to
speak of what you saw passed here on Sunday morning; I don't want you to
tell these old women or old men in the building; Charley Baulch done it
for me, and I done it for another man;' I said, 'I haven't told it to
anyone;' He said, 'You did tell it to Kitty' (his wife); I said, 'She
knew as much about it as I did; she saw the papers burning;' on next
Friday of that same week I saw Mark Haggerty, Mr. Haggerty's brother, who
is a detective in the Mayor's office, I think; I called him up stairs and
asked him to come in; he said, 'No, I am afraid to come in; I am afraid
of Ed.,' that is, Mr. Haggerty; they have not been on speaking terms in a
year; I then told him the occurrences that happened in the Court-House on
Sunday morning; I told him I didn't feel like staying there; that I was
almost crazy about it; he told me to keep it still; that if anybody would
hear about it outside they would be collared; I asked him would it be
prison; he said certainly.

"On Saturday night I went down to the market where Mrs. Haggerty keeps a
stand, and told her that I was going to leave for a few days until this
mess would be settled, for fear there would be any arrest, and I should
be a witness; she told me all I had to say was that I knew nothing about
it; I told her a false oath I would not give; what I saw with my eyes I
would swear to; she told me I could do as I chose about it; that I might
go against Mr. Haggerty if I chose; she said, 'It's foolish of you to
think so; you ought to go to headquarters and consult Mr. Kelso about
it;' I told her no, it was none of my business to go and consult him
about Mr. Haggerty's robbery; then she and I came together to the
Court-House; I got a couple of dresses and a night dress; I went down
stairs; she went with me; I met a policeman at the door, and he asked me
where I was going; I told him I was going to see my uncle's wife; she was
sick; I then went down to Washington street; I came up for my clothes
yesterday (Tuesday); the rooms were locked; I went down to the market to
where Mrs. Haggerty does business, and the first thing she said to me
was, 'By Christ Almighty, Mr. Haggerty will take your life!' I says to
her, 'What for?' she said, 'What you told Mark;' I said, 'I've told him
the truth about the robbery;' she says, 'Your life will be taken, by
Christ Almighty!' I said, 'I want my clothes;' She said, 'You can get
your clothes any time, what belongs to you;' she did not come up, and did
not open the door; I left my trunk in the hall of the Court-House, that I
brought to put my clothes in; they are over there yet; on that day,
before I saw Mrs. Haggerty, Mr. Murphy came to me and asked me if I
knowed anything about the robbery; if I did, please to tell the
Comptroller; I kind of smiled, and said I knew nothing about it; 'Well,'
said he, 'I know you know something about it;' I was making the bed in
Mr. Haggerty's room when Mr. Murphy came up and asked me if I knew
anything about it; I kind of smiled, and said 'No;' Mr. Murphy says, 'I
know better, you do;' I says, 'Why?' says he, 'Suppose you should be
arrested, then you'd have to prove about it whether you knew anything
about it or not;' that was in the hall; said I, 'When I'm arrested, it's
time enough to prove it then;' I then promised to see him on the stoop on
Saturday night, but I did not; I came up on Sunday morning, and left word
at the Hook and Ladder House to have Mr. Murphy come and see me on Sunday
night at No. 95 Washington street; Murphy came to me, and I told him I
would go up to the Comptroller's house with him and tell the Comptroller
all I knew about it, and that I was not doing it for any reward or money;
I was doing it to clear the Comptroller in the eyes of the people; I went
on Tuesday morning with Murphy to the Comptroller's house, and made the
above statement; this morning there was a policeman came into the house
where I was staying at No. 95 Washington street; the woman in the house
told me he would give me advice about the clothes I had left in the
Court-House; he asked me if I had any charge against Haggerty; I told him
no, no more than what happened there and what I saw on Sunday morning
week, and I explained it to him; he asked me, 'Have you been speaking to
Mr. Connolly?' I said, 'Yes, certainly;' the policeman went out of the
house; the captain (as the woman called him) came to the door and
knocked, and asked the woman about me; she said I had stepped out; he
brought her out on the sidewalk, and was talking to her a little while,
and as I was in the room I heard him speak Hank Smith's name to her once;
when she came in she said he told her that he would like to see me and
have a talk with me, because they would do as much for me as Mr. Connolly
would in this business.

"MARY CONWAY.

"Sworn to before me, Sept. 20th, 1871.

"THOS. A. LEDWITH, Police Justice."

In consequence of this disclosure, Baulch and Haggerty were arrested on
the charge of stealing the vouchers. Search was made in the Court-House,
and the half-charred fragments of the vouchers were found in a room used
for the storage of old lumber. Naturally, the Ring endeavored to treat
this discovery as a trick of the Comptroller's, and they furnished the
men charged with the theft with able counsel to defend them.

The citizens on their part endeavored to bring matters to a satisfactory
termination and secure the punishment of the Ring; but the members of
that body met them at every step with defiance and effrontery. They used
every means in their power to prevent an investigation of the public
accounts, and to defeat the efforts that were made to recover the money
they had stolen from the city. Meanwhile the Citizens' Committee labored
faithfully, and, through the efforts of Mr. Tilden, evidence was obtained
sufficient to cause the arrest of Mr. Tweed. Garvey, Woodward, and
Ingersoll sought safety in flight. Mayor Hall was arrested on the charge
of sharing the plunder obtained by the Ring, but the examining magistrate
declined to hold him on the charge for lack of evidence against him, and
the Grand Jury refused to indict him, for the same reason. Mr. Tweed had
been nominated for the State Senate by a constituency composed of the
most worthless part of the population, and, in spite of the charges
against him, he continued to present himself for the suffrages of these
people, by whom he was elected at the November election. In due time the
various committees appointed by the citizens made their reports,
presenting the facts we have embodied in this chapter. The guilt of the
members of the Ring was proven so clearly that no reasonable person could
doubt it; but still grave fears were expressed that it would be
impossible to bring these men to justice, in consequence of the arts of
shrewd counsel and legal quibbles. The determination of the citizens
grew with the approach of the elections. Their last great victory over
the Ring was achieved at the polls on the 7th of November, when the
entire Ring ticket in the city, with but one or two exceptions, was
overwhelmingly defeated.

Whether the guilty parties will be punished as they deserve, or whether
the citizens will allow the prosecutions they have instituted to flag,
the future alone can decide. At the present there is reason to fear that
the guilty will escape. Should this fear be realized, the citizens of
New York will have abundant cause to regret it. The Ring is badly
beaten, but it is not destroyed. Many of its members are still in
office, and there are still numbers of its followers ready to do its
bidding. Until the last man tainted with the infamy of an alliance with
the Ring is removed from office, the people of New York may be sure that
the danger is not at an end.

II. PERSONNEL OF THE RING.

Generally speaking, the Ring may be said to include every office-holder
in the city, and it is very certain that of late every official has come
in for a share of the suspicion with which the people regard the
transactions of the Ring. It would be impossible to give an accurate and
complete list of the members of that body, for many of them are not yet
known to the public; but the recent investigations have shown that it is
not composed exclusively of Democrats. A number of Republicans, while
openly acting with their party, have been found to be allied with and in
the pay of the Ring.

The men who are supposed to have played the most conspicuous parts in the
doings of the Ring, and who are believed by the public to be chiefly
responsible for its acts, are Mayor A. O. Hall, Richard B. Connolly,
William M. Tweed, Peter B. Sweeny, J. H. Ingersoll, Andrew J. Garvey, and
E. A. Woodward.

A. OAKEY HALL, Mayor of the city, was born in New York, is of American
parentage, and is about forty-six years old. He received a good
education, and at an early age began the study of the law. He removed to
New Orleans soon after, and was for a while in the office of the Hon.
John Slidell. He subsequently returned to New York, where he became
associated with the late Mr. Nathaniel Blunt, as Assistant
District-Attorney. Upon the death of Mr. Blunt, he was elected
District-Attorney by the Whig party, and held that position for about
twelve years. At the end of that time, he was elected Mayor of New York,
to succeed John T. Hoffman, now Governor of the State. For some years he
has been a member of the law firm of Brown, Hall & Vanderpoel, which firm
enjoys a large and lucrative practice. He is said to be a lawyer of
considerable ability, and has undoubtedly had great experience in
criminal practice. As a politician, his experience has also been
extensive and varied. He began life as a Whig, but became a prominent
Know-Nothing in the palmy days of that party. Finding Know-Nothingism a
failure, however, he became a Republican, from which party, about nine or
ten years ago, he passed over to the Democrats.

A writer in _Every Saturday_ thus speaks of him:

"His Honor has some facility as a writer, and for twenty years has
maintained a quasi or direct connection with the press. He is not
lacking in the culture of desultory reading, and when he chooses to do so
can bear himself like a gentleman. Of such a thing as dignity of
character, he appears to have but a faint conception. Pedantry is more
to him than profundity, and to tickle the ear of the town with a cheap
witticism, he deems a greater thing than to command it with a forcible
presentation of grave issues. The essential type of the man was
presented to public gaze about two years ago, when he stood on the City
Hall steps dressed from head to foot in a suit of green to review a St.
Patrick's procession. He is a harlequin with the literary ambition of a
Richelieu. He affects an intimacy with the stage, and has done something
in the way of producing plays. He can write clearly and concisely when
he will, but prefers to provoke with odd quips and far-fetched conceits.
He patronizes journalists and magazine writers with a sort of grotesque
familiarity, and readily makes himself at home among the Bohemians of
Literature."

Since his union with the Democracy, Mr. Hall has been the constant and
intimate associate of the men who have brought disgrace and loss upon the
city, and of late years he has been regarded as one of the leading
members of the Ring. It is said openly in New York that he owes his
election to the Mayoralty entirely to William M. Tweed. As Mayor of the
city, he has been officially connected with many of the transactions by
which the city has been defrauded of large sums of money. Some of the
most prominent newspapers of the city have denounced him as a thief and a
sharer of the stolen money. His friends, on the other hand, have
declared their belief that his worst fault was his official approval of
the fraudulent warrants. They state that he has never in his manner of
living, or in any other way, given evidence of possessing large sums of
money, and his legal partner made oath before the Grand Jury that Mr.
Hall was not worth over $60,000 or $70,000. It is certain that when the
proprietor of the _New York Times_, which journal had been loud in
denouncing Hall as a thief, was called on by the Grand Jury to furnish
them with the evidence upon which this charge was based, he was unable to
do so, and the Grand Jury was unable to obtain any evidence criminating
Mr. Hall personally. His friends declare that his signing the fraudulent
warrants was a purely ministerial act, and that having many thousands of
them to sign in a year, he was compelled to rely upon the endorsements of
the Comptroller and auditing officers.

In the present state of affairs, there is no evidence showing that Mr.
Hall derived any personal pecuniary benefit from the frauds upon the
treasury. Public sentiment is divided respecting him; many persons
believing that he is a sharer in the plunder of the Ring, and others
holding the opposite opinion. The most serious charges that have been
made against him, have been brought by Mr. John Foley, and Mr. Samuel J.
Tilden. The former is the President of the Nineteenth Ward Citizens'
Association, and the latter the leader of the Reform Democracy. Mr.
Tilden, in his speech at the Cooper Institute, November 2d, 1871, thus
spoke of Mayor Hall:

"These three Auditors met but once. They then passed a resolution which
now stands on the records of the city in the handwriting of Mayor Hall.
It was passed on his motion, and what was its effect? Did it audit
anything? Did it perform the functions? Did it fulfil the trust
committed to the Board? Not a bit of it. It provided that all claims
certified by Mr. Tweed and Mr. Young, Secretary of the old Board of
Supervisors, should be received, and, on sufficient evidence, paid.
Mayor Hall is the responsible man for all this. He knew it was a
fraudulent violation of duty on the part of every member of that Board of
Audit to pass claims in the way they did.

* * * * *

"Fellow-citizens, let me call your attention for a moment to the
after-piece of these transactions. Our friend, Mayor Hall, is a very
distinguished dramatist, and he would consider it a very serious offence
to the drama to have the after-piece left out. Now, what was that
after-piece? When the statements were published in regard to these
frauds, Mayor Hall published a card, wherein he said that these accounts
were audited by the old Board of Supervisors, and that neither he nor Mr.
Connolly was at all responsible for them. A little later--about August
16th--Mayor Hall said it was true they were audited by the Board of
Audit, and, in doing so, they performed a ministerial function, and would
have been compelled by mandamus to do it, if they hadn't done it
willingly. I do not deem it necessary in the presence of an intelligent
audience and the lawyers sitting around me on this stage, to present any
observations upon the idea that 'to audit and to pay the amount found
due' was a ministerial function. . . . . . .

"So we pass to Mr. Hall's fourth defence. On the burning of the vouchers
he made a raid on Mr. Connolly. He wrote him a public letter, demanding
his resignation in the name of the public because he had lost the public
confidence; and at the same time he was writing to Mr. Tweed touching and
tender epistles of sympathy and regret. You might at that time, if you
were a member of the Club, have heard Mr. Hall in his jaunty and somewhat
defiant manner; you might have seen Mr. Tweed, riding in the midnight
hour, with countenance vacant and locks awry, and have heard dropping
from his lips, 'The public demands a victim.' And so he proposed to
charge upon Connolly, who had legal custody of the vouchers, the stealing
and burning of them. He proposed to put some one else in the office of
the Comptroller when Connolly should be crushed out of it, and so
reconstruct the Ring and impose it a few years longer upon the people of
this city. . . . . . .

"The sequel showed that the vouchers were taken by Haggerty, whom Mr.
Connolly sought out and found, and prosecuted. Then, again, a little
later, when it happened that Mr. Keyser swore that indorsements for
$900,000 on warrants made in his name were forgeries, there was another
raid made on the Comptroller's office. It was then filled by Mr. Green.
The object was not to get rid of Mr. Connolly but of Mr. Green, and the
men who caused the raid were Mayor Hall and Peter B. Sweeny. Now, what
was the result of that? And I will say to this meeting that the sense of
alarm that I had that morning lest the movement should mislead the
public, was the motive that induced me to lay aside my business, go to
the Broadway Bank and make a personal examination.

"What was the result of that? Why, that every one of these forged
warrants were deposited, except one, to Woodward's account, and only one
to Ingersoll, and that the proceeds were divided with Tweed.

"Now, gentlemen, these revelations throw a light upon what? Upon three
false pretences in regard to these transactions, made by Mayor Hall under
his own signature before the public, and two attempts to mislead the
public judgment as to the real authors of the crime. I do not wish to do
injustice to Mayor Hall. He is a man experienced in criminal law.
(Laughter.) He is a man who is educated both in the drama and in the
stirring scenes that are recorded in the actual crimes of mankind in this
country and in England, for I understand this has composed the greatest
part of his business. Now I say that there is nothing in the
melo-dramatic history of crime more remarkable than these two successive
attempts of his to lay the crime to innocent men, if the object was not
to screen men whom he knew to be guilty. And while I would not do any
wrong or the slightest injustice to Mayor Hall, I say to him, as I do to
you, that the history of these transactions puts him on his explanation,
and draws upon him a strong suspicion that he knew whereof he was acting.
Did he mistake when he got the City Charter? Did he mistake when he
acted in the Board of Audit? Did he mistake when he accused Connolly of
burning the vouchers? Has he been subject to a misfortune of mistakes at
all times? Why does he stand to-day endeavoring to preserve that power?
I will only say that if he was mistaken on these occasions he is a very
unfortunate man, and has not acquired by the six years of practice in the
District-Attorney's office that amount of sagacity in the pursuit of
crime which we would naturally ascribe to him."

RICHARD B. CONNOLLY was born in the county of Cork, in Ireland. His
father was a village schoolmaster, and gave him a good common school
education. He was brought over to this country by an elder brother who
had been here for several years. He embarked in politics at an early
day, and was elected County Clerk before he could legally cast his vote.
He soon made himself noted for his facility in making and breaking
political promises, in consequence of which he was popularly called
"Slippery Dick." He gave considerable dissatisfaction to his party as
County Clerk, and soon dropped out of politics. A few years later,
taking advantage of the divisions of the Democratic party, he put himself
forward as a candidate for the post of State Senator, and was elected, as
is charged by the newspaper press, by the liberal use of bribery and
ballot-box stuffing. He was charged with using his position to make
money, and during his term at Albany was fiercely denounced for his
course in this and other respects.

[Picture: RICHARD B. CONNOLLY.]

About three years ago, he was appointed Comptroller of the Finance
Department of the City of New York. At that time the real heads of the
Finance Department were Peter B. Sweeny, City Chamberlain, and the late
County Auditor Watson, the latter of whom has been shown by the recent
investigations to have been a wholesale plunderer of the public funds.
The Comptroller was then a mere ornamental figure-head to the department.
In a short while, however, Watson was accidentally killed; and Sweeny
resigned, leaving Connolly master of the situation. He was suspected by
Tweed, and in his turn distrusted the "Boss." It is said that he
resolved, however, to imitate his colleagues, and enrich himself at the
cost of the public. He did well. In the short period of three years,
this man, who had entered upon his office poor, became a millionaire. He
made his son Auditor in the City Bureau, and gave the positions of
Surrogate and Deputy Receiver of Taxes to his two sons-in-law. All these
three were men of the lowest intellectual capacity, and all three share
in the suspicion which attaches to Connolly's administration of the
office. The _New York Tribune_, of October 25th, 1871, stated that a
short time before he became Comptroller, Connolly was sued for debt by
Henry Felter, now a liquor merchant on Broadway, and _swore in court that
he owned no property at all_. Under this statement the _Tribune_
publishes a list of _a part_ of Connolly's transactions in property since
he became Comptroller, covering the sum of $2,300,691.

PETER B. SWEENY is the "modest man" of the Ring, and is popularly
believed to carry the brains of that body in his head. He is regarded by
the public as the real leader of the Ring, and the originator of, and
prime, though secret mover in all its acts.

[Picture: PETER B. SWEENY.]

Mr. Sweeny is of Irish parentage, though born in New York. His father
kept a drinking saloon in Park Row, near the old Park Theatre, and it was
in this choice retreat that the youth of Sweeny was passed. He began his
career as an errand boy in a law office. He subsequently studied law,
and, in due time, was admitted to the bar.

A writer in _Every Saturday_ thus sums up his career: "He never obtained,
and perhaps never sought, much business in his profession; but very soon
after reaching manhood turned his attention to politics. The first
office he held was that of Counsel to the Corporation, to which position
he was elected by a handsome majority. This station did not so much
require in its occupant legal skill and legal ability, as an apt faculty
for political manipulation; and in the work he had to do, Mr. Sweeny was
eminently successful. From the Corporation office he went into the
District Attorneyship, obtained leave of absence for some time, treated
himself to a term of European travel, came home, and resigned the post to
which he had been chosen, and soon became City Chamberlain by the Mayor's
appointment.

"It was in this office that he did what gave him a national standing, and
led many people into the notion that some good had come from the Tammany
Nazareth. The Chamberlain was custodian, under the old charter, of all
city moneys. Such portions of these funds as were not required for
immediate use, this official deposited in some of the banks, and the
banks allowed interest, as is customary, on the weekly or monthly balance
to his credit. Previous to Sweeny's time the Chamberlain had put this
interest money into his own pocket--and a very handsome thing Mr. Devlin
and his predecessors made out of the transaction. But Sweeny startled
the political world, and caused a great sensation, by announcing that he
should turn these interest receipts into the City Treasury. Tammany made
a notable parade of his honesty and public spirit, and the capital he
gained in this way has been his chief stock-in-trade for the last two or
three years.

"But in the light of recent developments, Mr. Sweeny's course does not
seem so purely disinterested as it once did. He was in full control of
the city funds on the memorable Black Friday of two years ago last
summer, and sworn testimony taken by a committee of Congress shows that
he had a share in the doings of that eventful day. To what extent the
money in his official charge was put at the service of the Wall street
Ring, the country probably never will know; but the common belief of New
York is that Mr. Sweeny made a good deal of money out of his speculations
on that occasion. That he has been more or less concerned with Fisk and
Gould in various Erie Railway stock operations, is matter of general
notoriety; as it is also that most of the lately-exposed fraudulent
transactions in connection with the so-called new Court-House and other
public buildings occurred during his incumbency of the Chamberlain's
office. The greater part of those transactions yet brought into daylight
refer to county affairs, it is true; but city and county are one except
in name, and we have only just begun to get at what are designated the
city accounts.

"As has been already stated, he values himself on his brains, and the
Ring adherents take him at that valuation. They believe him capable of
finding a way out of the closest corner, and we suppose it is not to be
doubted that he is a man of considerable ability. He has not many of the
qualities of a popular politician; years ago he cut loose from his early
engine-company associations; he is reserved and reticent at all times,
and rarely seeks contact with the Democratic masses; he covets seclusion
and respectability; apparently he has sought to be Warwick rather than
King, and his followers credit him with a masterly performance of the
part. One of his earliest acts as President of the Park Commission was
to oust Fred. Law Olmstead, and shelve Andrew H. Green, the actual
creators of Central Park; but the whirligig of time has now put him into
such a position that he cannot get a dollar of public money without the
signature of Andrew H. Green."

Since the disastrous defeat of Tammany and the Ring in the November
elections, Mr. Sweeny has resigned his Presidency of the Department of
Public Parks, and has retired to private life. He is a man of
considerable wealth, and, though there is no evidence to convict him of
complicity with Tweed and Connolly in their frauds, the public suspect
and distrust him, so that altogether, his retirement was a very wise and
politic act.

The "head devil" of the Ring is WILLIAM M. TWEED, or, as he is commonly
called, "Boss Tweed." He is of Irish descent, and was born in the City
of New York. He was apprenticed to a chair-maker, to learn the trade,
but never engaged legitimately in it after he became his own master. He
finally became a member of Fire Company No. 6--known as "Big Six," and
"Old Tiger"--the roughest and worst company in the city. He soon became
its foreman. His attention was now turned to politics, and as he
possessed considerable influence over the "roughs," he became a valuable
man to the city politicians. As a compensation for his services, they
allowed him to receive a small office, from which he pushed his way into
the old Board of Supervisors, and eventually into the State Senate. Upon
the inauguration of the New Charter, he became President of the Board of
Public Works, and the most prominent leader of the Ring. He is a man of
considerable executive ability, and has known how to use his gifts for
his own gain. In March, 1870, the _New York World_ spoke of him as
follows:

"Mr. Tweed was worth less than nothing when he took to the trade of
politics. Now he has great possessions, estimated all the way from
$5,000,000 to twice as much. We are sorry not to be able to give his own
estimate, but, unluckily, he returns no income. But at least he is rich
enough to own a gorgeous house in town and a sumptuous seat in the
country, a stud of horses, and a set of palatial stables. His native
modesty shrinks from blazoning abroad the exact extent of his present
wealth, or the exact means by which it was acquired. His sensitive soul
revolts even at the partial publicity of the income list. We are tossed
upon the boundless ocean of conjecture. But we do know from his own
reluctant lips that this public servant, who entered the public service a
bankrupt, has become, by an entire abandonment of himself to the public
good, 'one of the largest tax-payers in New York.' His influence is
co-extensive with his cash. The docile Legislature sits at his feet, as
Saul at the feet of Gamaliel, and waits, in reverent inactivity, for his
signal before proceeding to action. He thrives on percentages of
pilfering, grows rich on the distributed dividends of rascality. His
extortions are as boundless in their sum as in their ingenuity. Streets
unopened profit him--streets opened put money in his purse. Paving an
avenue with poultice enriches him--taking off the poultice increases his
wealth. His rapacity, like the trunk of an elephant, with equal skill
twists a fortune out of the Broadway widening, and picks up dishonest
pennies in the Bowery."

In 1861, Mr. Tweed appeared in the courts of the city as a bankrupt. In
1871, his wealth is estimated at from $15,000,000, to $20,000,000. The
manner in which he is popularly believed to have amassed this immense sum
is thus described in a pamphlet recently issued in New York:

"While holding the position of State Senator he also held the position of
Supervisor--was the leading spirit and President of the old Board of
Supervisors, that has been denounced as the most scandalously corrupt
body that ever disgraced a civilized community--and also the position of
Deputy Street Commissioner. The first two be used to put money in his
pocket, but the last was used mainly to enable him to keep a set of
ruffians about him, who were paid out of the city treasury, and to afford
lucrative positions to men who might be of service in promoting his
political and pecuniary interests. By employing the same agencies that
he had used to secure his own election, he gradually worked his
particular friends into positions where he could use them, and then
commenced a scheme for surrounding every department in the government of
the city and county with a perfect network, which would enable himself
and his confederates to appropriate to their own use the greater part of
the city and county revenues. The new Court-House has been a mine of
wealth to these thieves from its very inception. The quarry from which
the marble was supplied was bought by the gang for a mere nominal price,
and has since netted them millions of dollars. The old fire
engine-houses were turned over to 'Andy' Garvey and other cronies of
Tweed's at rents ranging from $50 to $150 a year, and some of them have
been let by these fellows as high as $5000 a year. The public schools,
the different departments of the government, and the public institutions
under the control of the city authorities, all needed furniture, and
Tweed started a furniture manufactory in connection with James H.
Ingersoll, who has since achieved a notoriety as the most shameless thief
among the fraternity of scoundrels whom we are now describing. Tweed's
next step was to get control of a worthless little newspaper called _The
Transcript_, and then to introduce a bill into the Legislature making
this miserable little sheet the official organ of the City Government.
This sheet receives over a $1,000,000 a year for printing the proceedings
of the Common Council, but the proceedings of the corrupt Board of
Supervisors are studiously concealed from the public.

"Tweed's next step was to establish 'The New York Printing Company.'
This gives Tweed a pretext for rendering enormous bills for printing for
the different departments of the City Government; and although the amount
of work actually performed is only trifling, and consists mainly in
printing blank forms and vouchers, still the amount annually paid out of
the treasury to this company is something enormous--amounting during the
year 1870 to over $2,800,000. Nor is this all. When this company was
first started, a portion of a building on Centre street was found
sufficient for its accommodation. Since then it has absorbed three of
the largest printing establishments in the city, and also three or four
smaller ones, and a lithographing establishment. Why have these
extensive establishments been secured? Simply this: Insurance Companies,
Steamboat Companies, Ferry Companies, and other corporations require an
enormous amount of printing. Each of these associations may be subjected
to serious loss and inconvenience, by the passage of legislative
enactments abridging the privileges they now enjoy, or requiring them to
submit to some vexatious and expensive regulation. Hence, when they
receive notice that 'The New York Printing Company' is ready to do their
printing, they know that they must consent, and pay the most exorbitant
rate for the work done, or submit to Tweed's exactions during the next
session of the Legislature.

"In addition to the Printing Company, Tweed has a 'Manufacturing
Stationers' Company,' which furnishes all the stationery used in the
public schools, the public institutions, and the several departments of
the City Government. This concern receives not less than $3,000,000 a
year out of the city treasury. As an illustration of the way they do
things, we will cite one instance: During the month of April of the
present year, an order was sent to this company for stationery for the
County Bureau. In due time it was delivered, and consisted of about six
reams of cap paper, and an equal quantity of letter paper, with a couple
of reams of note paper. There were, also, about two dozen penholders,
four small ink bottles, such as could be bought at retail for thirty-five
or forty cents, a dozen small sponges for pen-wipers, half a dozen office
rulers, and three dozen boxes of rubber bands of various sizes--the
entire amount worth about fifty dollars at retail. For this stationery,
a bill of _ten thousand dollars_ was rendered soon after, and was duly
paid; and similar claims are presented for stationery for every bureau
and department of the government, almost every month throughout the
year--and are always promptly paid, although persons having legitimate
claims against the same appropriation could not obtain a dollar. But not
content with the enormous amounts that are thus obtained under false
pretences, Tweed even charges the city with the wages of the different
persons employed in these several establishments, and makes a large
percentage on the amounts thus drawn from the Treasury. For instance:
Charles E. Wilbour is President of the Printing Company and also of the
Stationers' Company, while Cornelius Corson is the Secretary of both
companies. Wilbour receives $3000 a year as Stenographer to the Bureau
of Elections, $2500 as Stenographer in the Superior Court, and $3500 a
year for 'examining accounts' that he has never seen. These several sums
are drawn out of the County Bureau alone, and he holds an equal number of
sinecure positions in the City Bureau. Corson is Chief of the Bureau of
Elections, for which he receives $6000 a year; and he also receives $3500
for 'examining' the same accounts, for which Wilbour receives a similar
sum; while, like Wilbour, he has never seen the accounts."

In order to carry on his immense operations, Tweed has had to avail
himself from time to time of the assistance of his partners. He has
always found them willing accomplices. These were J. H. Ingersoll,
Andrew J. Garvey, and E. A. Woodward, all of whom have sought safety in
flight.

J. H. Ingersoll is the son of a chair-dealer in the Bowery, and was
Tweed's principal tool in defrauding the citizens. He in his turn
"operated" through sub-firms, and was paid in 1869 and 1870 the enormous
sum of $5,691,144.26 for furniture and repairs to the new Court House and
the militia armories of the city. Much of this work was never done. For
the work actually done only the legitimate price was paid; the rest of
the enormous sum was divided between Tweed and Ingersoll.

Andrew J. Garvey is a plasterer by trade, and had a shop in the Third
avenue. He is also an Irishman, and was a "bunker" of the old fire
department. During the years 1869 and 1870 he was paid $2,905,464.06 for
repairing, plastering, painting and decorating the militia armories and
the new Court-House. But a small part of this sum represents work
honestly done. The rest is stolen money, of which Tweed received his
share. At the very first discovery of the frauds, Garvey fled from the
city, and it is believed sailed for Europe to escape the punishment he
dreaded.

E. A. Woodward was a deputy clerk to the Board of Supervisors, and as
such received a moderate salary. As far as is known, he had no other
means of acquiring money. He was at the beginning of the investigations
the owner of a magnificent estate near Norwalk, Connecticut, a partner in
the firm of Vanderhoef & Beatty, to the extent of $75,000; and the owner
of property variously estimated at from $500,000 to $1,000,000. It was
charged by the New York papers that the endorsements of the name of
Keyser & Co. on warrants amounting to over $817,000, and which
endorsements Mr. Keyser pronounced _forgeries_, were mainly the work of
Woodward. The money drawn on the fraudulent warrants was divided between
Woodward and Tweed. Conclusive evidence of this was afforded by Mr.
Samuel J. Tilden, who, by a happy inspiration, made a personal
examination of Tweed's bank account at the Broadway Bank, and there
discovered that Tweed, Garvey, Ingersoll, and Woodward had divided
$6,095,319.17 of the public funds between them.

Commenting upon this discovery, the New York _Tribune_ remarks: "Of the
total amount of these warrants, $6,312,541.37, three dependents and tools
of Mr. William M. Tweed deposited $5,710,913.38, and the New York
Printing Company deposited $384,395.19, making $6,095,319.17. Further,
$103,648.68 is believed to have been deposited by Ingersoll in a
different bank, so that the whole amount of the audit, except
$113,583.52, was really collected by persons in connection with or in
collusion with Tweed. Ingersoll collected $3,501,584.50 of the warrants,
and he received from Garvey, out of his collections, $47,744.68. Of that
aggregate he paid over to Woodward $1,817,467.49, or a little more than
half of his whole receipts.

"Garvey deposited warrants amounting to $1,177,413.72. He, Garvey, paid
to Woodward $731,871.01, or over two-thirds of the whole amount of his
receipts. Woodward deposited $1,032,715.76, and he received in checks
from Ingersoll and Garvey enough of these collections to make a total of
$3,582,054.26. Of this amount he paid over $923,858.50 to Tweed.

"Woodward was then, and is now, a deputy clerk to Young of the Board of
Supervisors, on whose certification, according to Mayor Hall's
resolution, as well as on that of Mr. Tweed, the bills were to be paid.
It is unknown to whom Woodward made other payments, but those he made to
Tweed are established beyond doubt. The tickets accompanying the
deposits are in the handwriting of Woodward, and the teller in the
Broadway Bank swore that they were generally made by Woodward in person.

"Including $104,333.64, Tweed received a handsome aggregate of
$1,037,192.14.

"The manner in which the city warrants were identified is explained in
the affidavit of Mr. Tilden. The first table is headed, 'County
Liabilities.' That is made up from the records in the Comptroller's
office and the warrants. The last contains all that there is (memoranda
and endorsements) on the back of the warrants. Nearly all the vouchers
of these bills were among those stolen on Sunday, September 10th, but the
warrants were kept in a different place, and are now in the Comptroller's
office. The next table headed, 'Identification of Parties who received
the Proceeds of the Warrants,' is made up, as to the description of the
warrants, from the books of the Comptroller's office, and from the
warrants themselves, and the identification of the persons who deposited
the warrants is made out from accounts of the entries, in the National
Broadway Bank. The asterisks against the amounts of the warrants in the
fifth column indicate those of the Keyser warrants on which John H.
Keyser alleges the endorsements were forged.

"All those warrants which fell within the period of this account were
collected by Woodward, _except one_, _and that one by Ingersoll_.

"Undoubtedly the transactions, taken together, were in the opinion of the
Acting Attorney-General, a conspiracy to defraud the county by means of
bills exaggerated many times, for work or services received, or for work
and services already paid for, or for accounts that were fictitious.

"The result throws great light both on the stealing and burning of the
vouchers by Haggerty, the janitor of the building, appointed by the
Chamberlain, and also upon the Keyser forgeries."

Woodward did not wait for the accumulation of evidence against him. He
followed the example of Ingersoll and Garvey, and took flight, and at
present his whereabouts is unknown.

Mr. Tilden's affidavit relating the facts of his discovery furnished
evidence sufficient to justify the arrest of Mr. Tweed. The Sheriff
performed the farce of arresting the "Boss" in his office at the
Department of Public Works. Bail was offered and accepted. The Sheriff
treated the great defaulter with the utmost courtesy and deference,
appearing before him, hat in hand, with a profusion of servile bows. No
absolute monarch could have been treated with greater reverence. The
moral sense of the community was outraged. On the same day a poor wretch
who had stolen a loaf of bread to keep his sick wife from starving was
sentenced for theft.

Mr. Tweed attempted to explain away Mr. Tilden's discovery, but was met
at once by that gentleman, who more than fastened his guilt upon him.
Said Mr. Tilden:

"The fourth act in the conspiracy was the collection of the money and its
division. (Laughter.) Who collected that money? We found upon
investigation that every time Garvey collected $100,000 he paid 66 per
cent. to Woodward, who paid Tweed 24 per cent. of it. (Laughter.)
Sometimes Woodward paid a fraction above 24 per cent. to Tweed, sometimes
a fraction below, but it never reached 25 per cent. nor fell to 23 per
cent. (Laughter.)

"Every time Woodward collected money he paid over 24 per cent. to Tweed.
The investigations in the Broadway Bank having begun without knowledge of
the specific transactions to which they would relate, extend back through
the whole of the year 1870, and it appears that about the same
transactions were going on in the four months of that year, and about the
same division was made. Something like $200,000 or $240,000 was paid
over to Tweed during those four months.

"Now I have heard it said in some of the public presses that a gentleman
who had an interview with Mr. Tweed had received the explanation that Mr.
Woodward owed him large sums of borrowed money, and that when, in the
course of his business arrangements with the city, he received these sums
of money from the city, he simply paid it over to Mr. Tweed in
satisfaction of his debts. That is a very fine theory. There is only
one difficulty about it, and that is, these loans are not entered on the
bank account. Examine Mr. Tweed's bank account, and there is not $1000
in it except in city transactions. His whole private business during
this time when he was depositing it--checks drawn upon city warrants
amounted to $3,500,000--did not amount to $3000; therefore it results
inevitably that whatever is taken from that account is city money, for
there was nothing but city or county money in that bank. There were no
private funds there. Where his 42 per cent. went I am unable to find
out. It was probably transferred to some other bank in large checks for
subdivision among the parties entitled thereto; but about that we know
not. Now, gentlemen, that disposes of the fourth act in the conspiracy,
and the events justify me in saying that at the time the City Charter was
passed I had no suspicion that the principal object in passing it was not
to preserve political power, with the ordinary average benefits that
usually accrue to its possessors. I had no suspicion that affairs were
going on in this way. But it seems that these transactions were about
one-half through; that there was about as much to be done after the new
charter as had been done for sixteen months previous under the old law;
and that therefore the motive and object of the new charter was not only
to secure political power with its ordinary average advantages, but also
to conceal the immense amounts that had been already stolen, and to
secure the opportunity of stealing an immense amount that was in prospect
before its passage. I say, then, that by the ordinary rules and
principles of evidence, looking back to the beginning of the
transactions, no man can doubt that all this series of acts were parts of
one grand conspiracy, not only for power, but for personal plunder."

We have not the space to dwell further upon the villainies from which the
city has suffered, but in parting with the Ring we cannot but regret, in
the forcible language of the Committee of Seventy, that, "Not an official
implicated in these infamies has had the virtue to commit suicide."

V. BROADWAY.

I. HISTORICAL.

To write the history of Broadway would require a volume, for it would be
the history of New York itself. The street was laid out in the days of
the Dutch, and then, as now, began at the Bowling Green. By them it was
called the "Heere Straas," or High street. They built it up as far as
Wall street, but in those days only the lower end was of importance. The
site of the Bowling Green was occupied by the Dutch fort and the church,
and on the west side of it was the parade and the market place. Ere long
several well-to-do merchants erected substantial dwellings on the same
side, one of these belonging to no less a personage than the
Schout-Fiscal Van Dyck. The east side of Broadway, during the rule of
the Dutch, was thickly built up with dwellings of but one room, little
better than hovels. Eventually, however, some of the better class
mechanics came there to reside, and erected better houses. Their gardens
extended down to the marsh on Broad street, and they cultivated their
cabbages and onions with great success, where now the bulls and bears of
the stock and gold markets rage and roar.

Under the English rule Broadway improved rapidly. Substantial dwellings
clustered around the Bowling Green. The first, and by far the most
elegant of these, was the edifice still known as "No. 1, Broadway," at
present used as a hotel. It was built by Archibald Kennedy, then
Collector of the Port of New York, and afterwards Earl of Cassilis, in
the Scotch Peerage. In the colonial times it was frequented by the
highest fashion of the city, and during the Revolution was the
headquarters of the British General, Sir Henry Clinton. Other noted
personages afterwards resided in it. This portion of Broadway escaped
the destruction caused by the great fire of 1776, and until about forty
years ago preserved its ante-colonial appearance.

This fire destroyed all that part of the street that had been built above
Morris street. After the Revolution it was rebuilt more substantially,
and many of the most elegant residences in the city were to be found
here, between Wall street and the Bowling Green. General Washington
resided on the west side of Broadway, just below Trinity Church, during a
portion of his Presidential term.

In 1653, the Dutch built a wall across the island at the present Wall
street. One of the main gates of this wall was on Broadway, just in
front of the present Trinity Church. From this gate a public road,
called the "Highway," continued up the present line of the street to the
"Commons," now the City Hall Park, where it diverged into what is now
Chatham street. In 1696 Trinity Church was erected. The churchyard
north of the edifice had for some time previous been used as a burying
ground.

Along the east side of Broadway, from Maiden lane to a point about 117
feet north of Fulton street, was a pasture known as the "Shoemaker's
Pasture." It covered an area of sixteen acres, and was used in common by
the shoemakers of the city for the manufacture of leather, their tannery
being located in a swampy section, near the junction of Maiden lane and
William street. About 1720 the pasture was sold in lots, and Fulton and
John streets were extended through it. That part of the tract bounded by
the present Broadway, Nassau, Fulton and Ann streets, was for many years
occupied by a pleasure resort, known as "Spring Garden." The tavern
occupied the site of the present _Herald_ office. It was here, during
the excitement preceding the Revolution, that the "Sons of Liberty" had
their head-quarters. They purchased the building, and named it "Hampden
Hall." It was the scene of many a riot and public disturbance during
those stirring times. It was occupied as a dwelling house from the close
of the Revolution until 1830, when it was converted into a Museum by John
Scudder. In 1840 Phineas T. Barnum became the owner of the building and
Museum. After the destruction of the Museum by fire in 1864, Mr. James
Gordon Bennett purchased the site, and erected upon it the magnificent
office of _The Herald_.

Trinity Church Farm lay along the west side of Broadway, north of Fulton
street. It was divided into lots in 1760, and between that time and
1765, the present St. Paul's Church was erected on the lower end of it.
The street forming the northern boundary of the churchyard was named
Vesey, in honor of a former pastor of Trinity.

In 1738 a public market, 156 feet long, and 20 feet 3.5 inches wide, was
erected in the middle of Broadway, opposite the present Liberty, then
Crown street. It remained there until 1771, when it was removed as a
public nuisance.

By the opening of the present century, Broadway had extended above the
present City Hall Park, which had been enclosed as a pleasure ground in
1785. It was taken up along its upper portion mainly with cottages, and
buildings of a decidedly rustic character. In 1805 the street was paved
in front of the Park, and in 1803 the present City Hall was begun on the
site of the old Poor House. It was completed in 1812. The principal
hotels, and many of the most elegant residences, were to be found at this
time on both sides of Broadway between Chambers street and Wall street.
In 1810-12 Washington Hall was erected on the southeast corner of Reade
street. It was the head-quarters of the old Federal Party, and was
subsequently used as a hotel. It was afterwards purchased by Mr. A. T.
Stewart, who erected on its site his palatial wholesale store, which
extends along Broadway to Chambers street. About the year 1820, the dry
goods merchants began to locate themselves on the west side of Broadway
near Reade street.

On the west side of Broadway, above Duane street, was the celebrated
Rutgers' estate, consisting of a fine mansion and large and elaborately
laid out grounds. The house was built by Anthony Rutgers in 1730, and
occupied by him until his death in 1750. After his death the property
was converted into a pleasure garden, known as "The Ranelagh." It was
kept by a Mr. John Jones until a few years before the Revolution. It was
a famous resort for the better classes. A complete band was in
attendance every Monday and Thursday evening during the summer, and
dancing was carried on in a large hall which had been erected in the
garden. In 1770, the estate was sold. Five acres, embracing the
orchard, were purchased by an association, and in 1773, the New York
Hospital was begun on this site. In 1869 the hospital was removed higher
up town, the land was sold, and Pearl street was extended through the
hospital grounds.

Between 1774 and 1776 a reservoir for supplying the city with water was
erected on the east side of Broadway, near the southeast corner of White
street. The water was pumped into the reservoir from wells, and was
distributed through the city in wooden pipes. At this time the streets
were not opened in this vicinity, and the reservoir is described as
standing on an "elevated hill." In 1810 the reservoir property was sold
in lots, the highest price paid per lot being $3000.

By 1818 Broadway was built up to above Duane street, and in 1826 the Free
Masons erected a handsome Gothic Hall, on the east side, between Duane
and Pearl streets. The street continued to grow, and about 1830 extended
above Canal street. In 1836-39, the Society Library erected a handsome
building on the west side, between Howard and Grand streets. In 1853,
they sold the building, which fronts sixty feet on Broadway, to D.
Appleton & Co., Publishers. By the year 1825, when gas was introduced
into the city south of Canal street, the west side of Broadway above
Chambers street was the fashionable shopping mart. The cross streets
were used mainly for residences, and these daily poured a throng of
pedestrians into Broadway, making it the fashionable promenade. At this
time long rows of poplar trees lined the sidewalks. The principal hotels
and theatres, restaurants, and pleasure resorts were to be found along
the street, and Broadway became what it has since been, a miniature of
the great city of which it is the chief artery.

After passing Canal street, along which, in the early part of the present
century, a considerable stream, spanned at Broadway by a stone bridge,
flowed across the island to the Hudson, Broadway grew rapidly. In 1820
the site of the St. Nicholas Hotel was occupied by a store, four dwelling
houses, and a coach factory, the last of which was sunk below the level
of the street. Back of the present hotel was a hill on which were the
remains of an earthwork, thrown up during the Revolution. The hotel was
erected in 1852. In 1823 the site of the Metropolitan Hotel was vacant.
The block between Prince and Houston streets, on the west side, was
occupied by two large houses, a garden, and several shanties.

On the east side of Broadway, above Bleecker street, was a fine pleasure
resort, called "Vauxhall Garden." It was opened by a Frenchman named
Delacroix, about the beginning of this century. The location was then
beyond the city limits. The Bible House and Cooper Institute mark its
eastern boundary. Lafayette Place was cut through it in 1837. Astor
Place was its northern boundary, and the site of the Astor Library was
within its limits. The entrance to the grounds was on Broadway.

From Astor Place, originally known as Art street, the progress of
Broadway was rapid. By the year 1832, it was almost entirely built up to
Union Square. In 1846, Grace Church was erected, the original edifice,
built about 1800, having stood at the corner of Broadway and Rector
streets, just below Trinity Church. In 1850, the Union Place Hotel,
corner of Broadway and Fourteenth street, and in 1852, the St. Denis
Hotel, corner of Broadway and Eleventh street, were built. Union Square
was laid off originally in 1815, and in its present shape in 1832.

Above Union Square, Broadway was originally known as the Bloomingdale
road, and was lined with farms and country seats. Madison Square was
laid off about 1841. The Fifth Avenue Hotel was built about fifteen
years later, and the remainder of the street is of very recent growth,
possessing but little local interest.

Broadway has grown with the extension of the city northward. The upper
blocks of buildings have always been dwelling houses or shanties, and
these have given way steadily to the pressure of business below them. In
a few years the entire street, from the Central Park to the Bowling
Green, will be taken up with substantial and elegant structures suited to
the growing needs of the great city. From the imperfect sketch of its
history here presented, the reader will see that the growth of the street
is divided into distinct periods. Under the Dutch it was built as far as
Wall street. The next 100 years carried it to the Park, from which it
extended to Duane street, reaching that point about the close of the
Revolution. By the opening of the present century it had reached Canal
street. Its next advance was to Astor Place. Thence it passed on to a
point above Union Square, and thence by a rapid growth to the
neighborhood of the Central Park.

II. DESCRIPTIVE.

The most wonderful street in the universe is Broadway. It is a world
within itself. It extends throughout the entire length of the island,
and is about sixty feet in width. Its chief attractions, however, lie
between the Bowling Green and Thirty-fourth street.

[Picture: BROADWAY, AT THE CORNER OF ANN STREET.]

It begins at the Bowling Green. From this point it extends in a straight
line to Fourteenth street and Union Square. Below Wall street it is
mainly devoted to the "Express" business, the headquarters and branch
offices of nearly all the lines in the country centring here. Opposite
Wall street, and on the west side of Broadway, is Trinity Church and its
graveyard. From Wall street to Ann street, Insurance Companies, Real
Estate Agents, Banks, Bankers and Brokers predominate. At the southeast
corner of Ann street is the magnificent _Herald_ office, and adjoining it
the Park Bank. Both buildings are of white marble, and the latter is one
of the grandest in the Union. Immediately opposite are St. Paul's Church
and graveyard, just above which is the massive granite front of the Astor
House, occupying an entire block, from Vesey to Barclay streets. On the
right hand side of the street, at the lower end of the Park, is the
unfinished structure of the new Post Office, which will be one of the
principal ornaments of the city. In the rear of this are the Park, and
the City Hall. Back of the City Hall, and fronting on Chambers street,
is the new County Court-House, which proved such a gold mine to the
"Ring." Across the Park you may see Park Row and Printing-House Square,
in which are located the offices of nearly all the great "dailies," and
of many of the weekly papers. Old Tammany Hall once stood on this square
at the corner of Frankfort street, but its site is now occupied by the
offices of _The Sun_ and _Brick Pomeroy's Democrat--Arcades ambo_.

[Picture: A. T. STEWART'S WHOLESALE STORE.]

Beyond the City Hall, at the northeast corner of Chambers street and
Broadway, is "Stewart's marble dry goods palace," as it is called. This
is the _wholesale_ department of the great house of A. T. Stewart & Co.,
and extends from Chambers to Reade street. The _retail_ department of
this firm is nearly two miles higher up town. Passing along, one sees in
glancing up and down the cross streets, long rows of marble, iron, and
brown stone warehouses, stretching away for many blocks on either hand,
and affording proof positive of the vastness and success of the business
transacted in this locality. To the right we catch a distant view of the
squalor and misery of the Five Points. On the right hand side of the
street, between Leonard street and Catharine lane, is the imposing
edifice of the New York Life Insurance Company, one of the noblest
buildings ever erected by private enterprise. It is constructed of white
marble.

Crossing Canal street, the widest and most conspicuous we have yet
reached, we notice, on the west side, at the corner of Grand street, the
beautiful marble building occupied by the _wholesale_ department of Lord
& Taylor, rivals of Stewart in the dry-goods trade. The immense brown
stone building immediately opposite, is also a wholesale dry-goods house.
Between Broome and Spring streets, on the west side, are the marble and
brown stone buildings of the St. Nicholas Hotel. Immediately opposite is
the Theatre Comique. On the northwest corner of Spring street is the
Prescott House. On the southwest corner of Prince street is Ball &
Black's palatial jewelry store. Diagonally opposite is the Metropolitan
Hotel, in the rear of which is the theatre known as Niblo's Garden. In
the block above the Metropolitan is the Olympic Theatre. On the west
side, between Bleecker and Amity streets, is the huge Grand Central
Hotel, one of the most conspicuous objects on the street. Two blocks
above, on the same side, is the New York Hotel, immediately opposite
which are Lina Edwin's and the Globe Theatres. On the east side of the
street, and covering the entire block bounded by Broadway and Fourth
avenue, and Ninth and Tenth streets, is an immense iron structure painted
white. This is Stewart's retail store. It is always filled with ladies
engaged in "shopping," and the streets around it are blocked with
carriages. Throngs of elegantly and plainly dressed buyers pass in and
out, and the whole scene is animated and interesting. Just above
"Stewart's," on the same side, is Grace Church, attached to which is the
parsonage. At the southwest corner of Eleventh street, is the St. Denis
Hotel, and on the northwest corner is the magnificent iron building of
the "Methodist Book Concern," the street floor of which is occupied by
McCreery, one of the great dry-goods dealers of the city. At the
northeast corner of Thirteenth street, is Wallack's Theatre. The upper
end of the same block is occupied by the Union Square Theatre and a small
hotel.

[Picture: NEW YORK LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY'S BUILDING.]

At Fourteenth street we enter Union Square, once a fashionable place of
residence, but now giving way to business houses and hotels. Broadway
passes around it in a northwesterly direction. On the west side of Union
Square, at the southwest corner of Fifteenth street, is the famous
establishment of Tiffany & Co., an iron building, erected at an immense
cost, and filled with the largest and finest collection of jewelry,
articles of _vertu_, and works of art in America. In the middle of the
block above, occupying the ground floor of Decker's Piano Building, is
_Brentano's_, the "great literary headquarters" of New York.

Leaving Union Square behind us, we pass into Broadway again at
Seventeenth street. On the west side, occupying the entire block from
Eighteenth to Nineteenth streets, is a magnificent building of white
marble used by a number of retail merchants. The upper end, comprising
nearly one half of the block, is occupied by Arnold, Constable & Co., one
of the most fashionable retail dry-goods houses. At the southwest corner
of Twentieth street, is the magnificent iron _retail_ dry-goods store of
Lord & Taylor--perhaps the most popular house in the city with residents.
The "show windows" of this house are always filled with a magnificent
display of the finest goods, and attract crowds of gazers.

At Twenty-third street, Broadway crosses Fifth avenue obliquely, going
toward the northwest. At the northwest corner of Twenty-third street,
and extending to Twenty-fourth street, is the Fifth Avenue Hotel, built
of white marble, one of the finest and handsomest buildings of its kind
in the world. Just opposite is Madison Square, extending from Fifth to
Madison avenues. The block from Twenty-fourth to Twenty-fifth streets is
occupied by the Albemarle and Hoffman Houses, in the order named, both of
white marble. Just opposite, at the junction of Broadway and Fifth
avenue, is a handsome granite obelisk, with appropriate ornaments in
bronze, erected to the memory of General W. J. Worth. Immediately beyond
this is the Worth House, fronting on Broadway and Fifth avenue. The
vicinity of Madison Square is the brightest, prettiest, and liveliest
portion of the great city. At the southwest corner of Twenty-sixth
street is the St. James' Hotel, also of white marble, and just opposite
is the "Stevens' House," an immense building constructed on the French
plan of "flats," and rented in suites of apartments. Between
Twenty-seventh and Twenty-eighth streets, on the west side, is the
Coleman House. At the southeast corner of Twenty-ninth street is the
Sturtevant House. At the northeast corner of Twenty-ninth street is the
Gilsey House, a magnificent structure of iron, painted white. Diagonally
opposite is Wood's Museum. At the southeast corner of Thirty-first
street is the Grand Hotel, a handsome marble building. The only hotel of
importance above this is the St. Cloud, at the southeast corner of
Forty-second street.

At Thirty-fourth street, Broadway crosses Sixth avenue, and at
Forty-fourth street it crosses Seventh avenue, still going in a
northwesterly direction. It is but little improved above Thirty-fourth
street, though it is believed the next few years will witness important
changes in this quarter.

There are no street car tracks on Broadway below Fourteenth street, and
in that section "stages," or omnibuses, monopolize the public travel.
Several hundreds of these traverse the street from the lower ferries as
far as Twenty-third street, turning off at various points into the side
streets and avenues.

[Picture: BROADWAY, AS SEEN FROM THE ST. NICHOLAS HOTEL.]

Below Twenty-ninth street, and especially below Union Square, the street
is built up magnificently. From Union Square to the Bowling Green, a
distance of three miles, it is lined on each side with magnificent
structures of marble, brown, Portland, and Ohio stones, granite, and
iron. No street in the world surpasses it in the grandeur and variety of
its architectural display. Some of the European cities contain short
streets of greater beauty, and some of our American cities contain
limited vistas as fine, but the great charm, the chief claim of Broadway
to its fame, is the _extent_ of its grand display. For three miles it
presents an unbroken vista, and the surface is sufficiently undulating to
enable one to command a view of the entire street from any point between
Tenth street and the Bowling Green. Seen from one of the hotel
balconies, the effect is very fine. The long line of the magnificent
thoroughfare stretches away into the far distance. The street is
thronged with a dense and rapidly moving mass of men, animals, and
vehicles of every description. The effect is unbroken, but the different
colors of the buildings give to it a variety that is startling and
pleasing. In the morning the throng is all pouring one way--down town;
and in the afternoon the tide flows in the opposite direction. Everybody
is in a hurry at such times. Towards afternoon the crowd is more
leisurely, for the promenaders and loungers are out. Then Broadway is in
its glory.

Oftentimes the throng of vehicles is so dense that the streets are
quickly "jammed." Carriages, wagons, carts, omnibuses, and trucks are
packed together in the most helpless confusion. At such times the police
are quickly on hand, and take possession of the street. The scene is
thrilling. A stranger feels sure that this struggling mass of horses and
vehicles can never be made to resume their course in good order, without
loss of life or limb to man or beast, or to both, and the shouts and
oaths of the drivers fairly bewilder him. In a few minutes, however, he
sees a squad of gigantic policemen dash into the throng of vehicles.
They are masters of the situation, and wo to the driver who dares disobey
their sharp and decisive commands. The shouts and curses cease, the
vehicles move on one at a time in the routes assigned them, and soon the
street is clear again, to be "blocked" afresh, perhaps, in a similar
manner in less than an hour. Upwards of 20,000 vehicles daily traverse
this great thoroughfare.

It is always a difficult matter for a pedestrian to cross the lower part
of Broadway in the busy season. Ladies, old persons, and children find
it impossible to do so without the aid of the police, whose duty it is to
make a passage for them through the crowd of vehicles. A bridge was
erected in 1866 at the corner of Fulton street, for the purpose of
enabling pedestrians to pass over the heads of the throng in the streets.
Few persons used it, however, except to witness the magnificent panorama
of the street, and it was taken down.

Seen from the lofty spire of Trinity Church, the street presents a
singular appearance. The perspective is closed by Grace Church, at Tenth
street. The long lines of passers and carriages take distinct shapes,
and seem like immense black bands moving slowly in opposite directions.
The men seem like pigmies, and the horses like dogs. There is no
confusion, however. The eye readily masses into one line all going in
the same direction. Each one is hurrying on at the top of his speed, but
from this lofty perch they all seem to be crawling at a snail's pace.

The display in the windows of the Broadway stores is rich, beautiful, and
tempting. Jewels, silks, satins, laces, ribbons, household goods,
silverware, toys, paintings, in short, rare, costly, and beautiful
objects of every description greet the gazer on every hand. All that is
necessary for the comfort of life, all that ministers to luxury and
taste, can be found here in the great thoroughfare. And it is a mistake
to suppose, as many persons do, that "Broadway prices" are higher than
those of other localities. The best goods in the city are to be found
here, and they bring only what they are worth, and no more. Yet it must
not be supposed that all Broadway dealers are models of honesty.
Everything has its price in the great street--even virtue and honesty.
By the side of merchants whose names are synonymous for integrity are to
be found some of the most cunning and successful scoundrels. Broadway is
an eminently cheerful street. On every hand one sees evidences of
prosperity and wealth. No unsuccessful man can remain in the street.
Poverty and failure have no place there. Even sin shows its most
attractive guise in Broadway.

[Picture: SATURDAY AFTERNOON CONCERT AT CENTRAL PARK.]

The side-walks are always crowded, even in the summer, when "everybody is
out of town," and this throng of passers-by constitutes one of the most
attractive features of the scene. Every class, every shade of
nationality and character, is represented here. America, Europe, Asia,
Africa, and even Oceanica, each has its representatives. High and low,
rich and poor, pass along at a rate of speed peculiar to New York, and
positively bewildering to a stranger. No one seems to think of any one
but himself, and each one jostles his neighbor or brushes by him with an
indifference amusing to behold. Fine gentlemen in broadcloth, ladies in
silks and jewels, and beggars in squalid rags, are mingled in true
Republican confusion. The bustle and uproar are very great, generally
making it impossible to converse in an ordinary tone. From early morn
till after midnight the throng pours on.

At night the scene is different, but still brilliant. The vehicles in
the street consist almost entirely of carriages and omnibuses, each with
its lamps of different colors. They go dancing down the long vista like
so many fire-flies. The shop-windows are brightly lighted, and the
monster hotels pour out a flood of radiance from their myriads of lamps.
Here and there a brilliant reflector at the door of some theatre, sends
its dazzling white rays streaming along the street for several blocks.
Below Canal street Broadway is dark and silent, but above that point it
is as bright as day, and fairly alive with people. Those who are out now
are mostly bent on pleasure, and the street resounds with cheerful voices
and merry laughter, over which occasionally rises a drunken howl.
Strains of music or bursts of applause float out on the night air from
places of amusement, not all of which are reputable. Here and there a
crowd has collected to listen to the music and songs of some of the
wandering minstrels with which the city abounds. Gaudily painted
transparencies allure the unwary to the vile concert saloons in the
cellars below the street. The restaurants and _cafes_ are ablaze with
light, and are liberally patronized by the lovers of good living. Here
and there, sometimes alone, and sometimes in couples, you see women,
mainly young, and all flashily dressed, walking rapidly, with a peculiar
gait, and glancing quickly but searchingly at every man they pass. You
can single them out at a glance from the respectable women who happen to
be out alone at this time. They are the "street walkers," seeking
companions from among the passers-by. Some of them are mere children,
and the heart aches to see the poor creatures at their fearful work. The
police do not allow these women to stop and converse with men on
Broadway, and when they find a companion they turn off promptly into a
side street, and disappear with him in the darkness.

Towards eleven o'clock the theatres pour out their throngs of spectators,
who come to swell the crowd on Broadway, and for a little while the noise
and confusion are almost as great as in the day. Then the restaurants
will close, and the street will gradually become deserted and dark,
tenanted only by the giant policemen; and for a few hours the great city
will be wrapped in silence and slumber.

VI. SOCIETY.

I. ANALYTICAL.

All the world over, poverty is a misfortune. In New York it is a crime.
Here, as in no other place in the country, men struggle for wealth. They
toil, they suffer privations, they plan and scheme, and execute with a
persistency that often wins the success they covet. The chief effort of
every man and woman in the great city is to secure wealth. Man is a
social being--woman much more so--and here wealth is an absolute
necessity to the enjoyment of social pleasures. Society here is
organized upon a pecuniary basis, and stands not as it should upon the
personal merits of those who compose it, but upon a pile of bank-books.
In other cities, poor men, who are members of families which command
respect for their talents or other admirable qualities, or who have merit
of their own sufficient to entitle them to such recognition, are welcomed
into what are called the "Select Circles" with as much cordiality as
though they were millionaires. In New York, however, men and women are
judged by their bank accounts. The most illiterate boor, the most
unprincipled knave finds the door of fashion open to him, while St. Peter
himself, if he came "without purse or scrip," would see it closed in his
face.

Society in New York is made up of many elements, the principal of which
it is proposed to examine, but, unfortunately, wealth is the one thing
needful in most of the classes into which it is divided. Nor is this
strange. The majority of fashionable people have never known any of the
arts and refinements of civilization except those which mere wealth can
purchase. Money raised them from the dregs of life, and they are firm
believers in it. Without education, without social polish, they see
themselves courted and fawned upon for their wealth, and they naturally
suppose that there is nothing else "good under the sun."

Those who claim precedence base their demand upon their descent from the
original Dutch settlers, and style themselves "the old Knickerbockers."
The majority of these are very wealthy, and have inherited their fortunes
from their ancestors. They are owners of valuable real estate, much of
which is located in the very heart of the city. The incomes derived from
such property are large and certain. They are frequently persons of
cultivation, and were it not for their affectation of superiority, would,
as a class, be decidedly clever people, even if many of them are stupid.
They make an effort to have their surroundings as clumsy and as
old-fashioned as possible, as a mark of their Dutch descent. They sport
crests and coats of arms such as the simple old Dutchmen of New Amsterdam
never dreamed of; and rely more upon the merits of their forefathers than
upon their own. They are extremely exclusive, and rarely associate with
any but those who can "show as pure a pedigree." Their disdain of those
whose families are not as "old" as their own is oftentimes amusing, and
subjects them to ridicule, which they bear with true Dutch stolidity.
They improve in their peculiar qualities with each generation, and the
present pompous Knickerbocker who drives in the Park in solemn state in
his heavy chariot, and looks down with disdain upon all whose blood is
not as Dutch as his own, is a very different personage from his great
ancestor, the original Knickerbocker, who hawked fish about the streets
of New Amsterdam, or tanned leather down in "the swamp."

[Picture: A FASHIONABLE PROMENADE ON FIFTH AVENUE.]

Strange to say, the Knickerbocker class receives fresh additions every
year. Each new comer has a _Van_ to his name, and can show a string of
portraits of yellow-faced worthies, in leather breeches, and ruffles, and
wigs, which he points to with pride as his "ancestors." The statistician
would be sorely perplexed in attempting to ascertain the number of Dutch
settlers in New Amsterdam were he to trace back the pedigrees of the
present Knickerbockers, for if the claims of the present generation be
admitted, one of two things is sure--either the departed Dutchmen must
have been more "numerous fathers" than they cared to admit at the time,
or the original population has been underestimated.

The next in order are those who, while making no boast of family, are
persons who have inherited large wealth from several generations of
ancestors. Freed from the necessity of earning their livings, they have
an abundance of leisure in which to cultivate the "small sweet courtesies
of life." They are neither shoddyites nor snobs, and while there are
many who do no credit to their class, they constitute one of the
pleasantest portions of metropolitan society. They furnish some of the
most agreeable men, and some of the most beautiful and charming women in
the city. Their homes are elegant, and abound in evidences of the taste
of their owners, who spend their money liberally in support of literature
and the arts. Here are to be found some of the rarest works of European
and American masters. Unfortunately this class of New Yorkers is not
very large. It is destined to increase, however, with the growth of
wealth in the city. Good men, who have begun where the forefathers of
these people started, will constantly contribute their children to swell
this class, in which will always be collected those who unite true merit
to great wealth, those who are proud of their country and its
institutions, contented with its customs, and possessed of too much good
sense to try to add to their importance by a ridiculous assumption of
"aristocratic birth," or a pitiful imitation of the manners of the great
of other lands.

The third class may be said to consist of those who value culture and
personal excellence above riches. There is not much individual wealth in
this class, but its members may be regarded as "persons in comfortable
circumstances." They are better educated, have more correct tastes, and
do the most to give to New York society its best and most attractive
features. It is a class to which merit is a sure passport. It is modest
and unassuming, free from ostentatious parade, and, fortunately, is
growing rapidly. It is made up of professional men of all kinds,
clergymen, lawyers, poets, authors, physicians, painters, sculptors,
journalists, scientific men, and actors, and their families. Its tone is
vigorous and healthy, and it is sufficiently free from forms to make it
independent, and possessed of means enough to enable it to pursue its
objects without hindrance.

The remainder of those who constitute what is called society are the "New
Rich," or as they are sometimes termed, the "Shoddyites." They
constitute the majority of the fashionables, and their influence is felt
in every department of domestic life. They are ridiculed by every
satirist, yet they increase. Every year makes fresh accessions to their
ranks, and their follies and extravagances multiply in proportion. They
occupy the majority of the mansions in the fashionable streets, crowd the
public thoroughfares and the Park with their costly and showy equipages,
and flaunt their wealth so coarsely and offensively in the faces of their
neighbors, that many good people have come to believe that riches and
vulgarity are inseparable. They make themselves the most conspicuous,
and are at once accepted by strangers as the "best society" of the
metropolis.

They are almost without exception persons who have risen from the ranks.
This is not to their discredit. On the contrary, every American is proud
to boast that this is emphatically the land of self-made men, that here
it is within the power of any one to rise as high in the social or
political scale as his abilities will carry him. The persons to whom we
refer, however, affect to despise this. They take no pride in the
institutions which have been so beneficial to them, but look down with
supreme disdain upon those who are working their way up. They are
ashamed of their origin, and you cannot offend one of them more than to
hint that you knew him a few years ago as a mechanic or a shopkeeper.

Some of the "fashionables" appear very unexpectedly before the world.
But a short while ago a family may have been living in the humbler
quarter of the city, or even in a tenement house. A sudden fortunate
speculation on the part of the husband, or father, may have brought them
enormous wealth in the course of a few days. A change is instantly made
from the humble abode to a mansion on Fifth or Madison avenue. The newly
acquired wealth is liberally expended in "fitting up," and the lucky
possessors of it boldly burst upon the world of fashion as stars of the
first magnitude. They are courted by all the newly rich, and invitations
to the houses of other "stars" are showered upon them. They may be rude,
ignorant, uncouth in manner, but they have wealth, and that is all that
is required. They are lucky indeed, if they hold their positions long.
A few manage to retain the wealth which comes to them thus suddenly, but
as a rule those who are simply lucky at the outset, find Dame Fortune a
very capricious goddess, and at the next turn of her wheel pass off the
stage to make room for others who are soon to share the same fate.

During the oil speculations, and during the war, the shoddy class was
largely increased by those who were made suddenly and unexpectedly rich
by lucky ventures in petroleum lands and stocks, and by army contracts.
Now other speculations provide recruits for this class, to which Wall
street is constantly sending fresh "stars" to blaze awhile in the
firmament of society, and then to make way for others. The shoddy
element is not, however, confined to those who acquire wealth with
rapidity or by speculations. There are many who rise very slowly and
painfully in the world, who, when blessed with fortune, throw themselves
headlong into the arms of "shoddy."

It is not difficult to recognize these persons. They dress not only
handsomely, but magnificently, making up in display what they lack in
taste. They cover themselves with jewels, and their diamonds, worn on
ordinary occasions, might in some instances rival the state gems of
European sovereigns. Their rough, hard hands, coarse faces, loud voices,
bad English, and vulgar manners contrast strikingly with the splendors
with which they surround themselves. They wear their honors uneasily,
showing how little they are accustomed to such things. They look down
with disdain upon all less fortunate in wealth than themselves, and
worship as demi-gods those whose bank accounts are larger than their own.
They are utterly lacking in personal dignity, and substitute for that
quality a supercilious hauteur.

II. FASHIONABLE EXTRAVAGANCE.

Extravagance is the besetting sin of New York society. Money is
absolutely thrown away. Fortunes are spent every year in dress and in
all sorts of follies. Houses are fitted up and furnished in the most
sumptuous style, the building and its contents being sometimes worth a
million of dollars. People live up to every cent of their incomes, and
often beyond them. It is no uncommon occurrence for a fine mansion, its
furniture, pictures, and even the jewels of its occupants, to be pledged
to some usurer for the means with which to carry on this life of luxury.
Each person strives to outdo his or her acquaintances. Those who have
studied the matter find no slight cause for alarm in the rapid spread of
extravagance among all classes of the city people, for the evil is not
confined to the wealthy. They might afford it, but people of moderate
means, who cannot properly make such a heavy outlay, are among those most
guilty of the fault.

In no other city of the land is there to be seen such magnificent
dressing on the part of the ladies as in New York. The amount of money
and time expended here on dress is amazing. There are two objects in
view in all this--the best dressed woman at a ball or party is not only
sure to outshine her sisters there present, but is certain to have the
satisfaction next day of seeing her magnificence celebrated in some of
the city journals. Her vanity and love of distinction are both gratified
in this way, and such a triumph is held to be worth any expense. There
is not an evening gathering but is graced by the presence of ladies clad
in a style of magnificence which reminds one of the princesses in the
fairy tales. Says a recent writer:

"It is almost impossible to estimate the number of dresses a very
fashionable woman will have. Most women in society can afford to dress
as it pleases them, since they have unlimited amounts of money at their
disposal. Among females dress is the principal part of society. What
would Madam Mountain be without her laces and diamonds, or Madam Blanche
without her silks and satins? Simply commonplace old women, past their
prime, destined to be wall-flowers. A fashionable woman has just as many
new dresses as the different times she goes into society. The _elite_ do
not wear the same dresses twice. If you can tell us how many receptions
she has in a year, how many weddings she attends, how many balls she
participates in, how many dinners she gives, how many parties she goes
to, how many operas and theatres she patronizes, we can approximate
somewhat to the size and cost of her wardrobe. It is not unreasonable to
suppose that she has two new dresses of some sort for every day in the
year, or 720. Now to purchase all these, to order them made, and to put
them on afterward, consumes a vast amount of time. Indeed, the woman of
society does little but don and doff dry-goods. For a few brief hours
she flutters the latest tint and _mode_ in the glare of the gas-light,
and then repeats the same operation the next night. She must have one or
two velvet dresses which cannot cost less than $500 each; she must
possess thousands of dollars' worth of laces, in the shape of flounces,
to loop up over the skirts of dresses, as occasion shall require.
Walking-dresses cost from $50 to $300; ball-dresses are frequently
imported from Paris at a cost of from $500 to a $1000; while
wedding-dresses may cost from $1000 to $5000. Nice white Llama jackets
can be had for $60; _robes princesse_, or overskirts of lace, are worth
from $60 to $200. Then there are travelling-dresses in black silk, in
pongee, velour, in pique, which range in price from $75 to $175. Then
there are evening robes in Swiss muslin, robes in linen for the garden
and croquet-playing, dresses for horse-races and for yacht-races, _robes
de nuit_ and _robes de chambre_, dresses for breakfast and for dinner,
dresses for receptions and for parties, dresses for watering-places, and
dresses for all possible occasions. A lady going to the Springs takes
from twenty to sixty dresses, and fills an enormous number of Saratoga
trunks. They are of every possible fabric--from Hindoo muslin, 'gaze de
soie,' crape maretz, to the heavy silks of Lyons.

"We know the wife of the editor of one of the great morning newspapers of
New York, now travelling in Europe, whose dress-making bill in one year
was $10,000! What her dry-goods bill amounted to heaven and her husband
only know. She was once stopping at a summer hotel, and such was her
anxiety to always appear in a new dress that she would frequently come
down to dinner with a dress basted together just strong enough to last
while she disposed of a little turtle-soup, a little Charlotte de Russe,
and a little ice cream.

"Mrs. Judge ---, of New York, is considered one of the 'queens of
fashion.' She is a goodly-sized lady--not quite so tall as Miss Anna
Swan, of Nova Scotia--and she has the happy faculty of piling more
dry-goods upon her person than any other lady in the city; and what is
more, she keeps on doing it. To give the reader a taste of her quality,
it is only necessary to describe a dress she wore at the Dramatic Fund
Ball, not many years ago. There was a rich blue satin skirt, _en train_.
Over this there was looped up a magnificent brocade silk, white, with
bouquets of flowers woven in all the natural colors. This overskirt was
deeply flounced with costly white lace, caught up with bunches of
feathers of bright colors. About her shoulders was thrown a
fifteen-hundred dollar shawl. She had a head-dress of white ostrich
feathers, white lace, gold pendants, and purple velvet. Add to all this
a fan, a bouquet of rare flowers, a lace handkerchief, and jewelry almost
beyond estimate, and you see Mrs. Judge --- as she appears when full
blown.

"Mrs. General --- is a lady who goes into society a great deal. She has
a new dress for every occasion. The following costume appeared at the
Charity Ball, which is _the_ great ball of the year in New York. It was
imported from Paris for the occasion, and was made of white satin, point
lace, and a profusion of flowers. The skirt had heavy flutings of satin
around the bottom, and the lace flounces were looped up at the sides with
bands of the most beautiful pinks, roses, lilies, forget-me-nots, and
other flowers.

"It is nothing uncommon to meet in New York society ladies who have on
dry-goods and jewelry to the value of from thirty to fifty thousand
dollars. Dress patterns of twilled satin, the ground pale green, pearl,
melon color, or white, scattered with sprays of flowers in raised velvet,
sell for $300 dollars each; violet poult de soie will sell for $12
dollars a yard; a figured moire will sell for $200 the pattern; a
pearl-colored silk, trimmed with point applique lace, sells for $1000;
and so we might go on to an almost indefinite length."

Those who think this an exaggerated picture have only to apply to the
proprietor of any first-class city dry-goods store, and he will confirm
its truthfulness. These gentlemen will tell you that while their sales
of staple goods are heavy, they are proportionately lighter than the
sales of articles of pure luxury. At Stewart's the average sales of
silks, laces, velvets, shawls, gloves, furs, and embroideries is about
$24,500 per diem. The sales of silks alone average about $15,000 per
diem.

A few years ago the dwelling of a wealthy citizen of New York was
consumed by fire. The owner of the mansion soon after applied to a
prominent Insurance Company for the payment of the sum of $21,000, the
amount of the risk they had taken on the wearing apparel of his daughter,
a young lady well known in society for the splendor of her attire. The
company refused to pay so large a sum, and protested that the lady in
question could not have possessed so costly a wardrobe. Suit was brought
by the claimant, and, as a matter of course, an enumeration of the
articles destroyed and their value was made to the court. The list was
as follows, and is interesting as showing the mysteries of a fashionable
lady's wardrobe:

6 silk robes--red, enamelled, $950
green, blue, yellow, pink,
black--with fringes, ruches,
velvets, lace trimmings, etc.
1 blue Marie Louise 300
gros-de-Naples, brocaded with
silver taken from the looms of
Lyons; cost, without a stitch in
it
Silver bullion fringe tassels and 200
real lace to match
1 rose-colored satin, brocaded in $400
white velvet, with deep flounce
of real blonde lace, half-yard
wide; sleeves and bertha richly
trimmed with the same
rose-colored satin ribbon; satin
on each side, with silk cord and
tassel; lined throughout body,
skirt and sleeves with white silk
1 white satin of exceedingly rich 2500
quality, trimmed with blonde and
bugles; two flounces of very deep
point d'Alencon, sleeves of the
same, reaching down to the
elbows, and bertha to match, with
white bugles and blonde to match
1 royal blue satin dress, 1500
trimmed, apron-shape, with black
Brussels lace and gold and bugle
trimmings, with one flounce,
going all around the skirt, of
black Brussels lace; body and
sleeves to match; sleeves looped
up with blue velvet roses set in
lace, to imitate a bouquet
1 dove-colored satin dress, 425
trimmed with velvet, half-yard
deep; a long trail with the
velvet going all around, with
llama fringe and dove-colored
acorns, forming a heading to the
velvet, and going all up the
skirt and around the long Greek
sleeves; the sleeves lined with
white satin and quills of silver
ribbon going around the throat;
lined throughout with white silk,
having belonging to it a cloak
and hood, lined and trimmed to
match; made in Paris
1 black Mantua velvet robe, long 500
train, sleeves hanging down as
far as the knees, open, lined
with white satin, and trimmed all
round with seed-pearls, as well
as all round the top of low
body--the seed-pearls forming
clusters of leaves going down
front of skirt and all round the
skirt and train
1 rich moire-antique dress, 400
embroidered in gold from the body
to the skirt and sleeves and all
round, taken up and fastened up
with gold embroidery to imitate
the folds and wrinkles of the
dress, trimmed round the edge
with white Brussels lace, having
an underskirt of amber satin
trimmed with Brussels lace, to
show underneath; lined throughout
with silk
1 large Brussels shawl, of 700
exquisite fineness and elegance
of design, to go with it
1 crimson velvet dress, lined 400
throughout with rose-colored
silk; train very long, trimmed
with rich silk, blonde lace
covering the entire train, being
carried around and brought up the
front of the dress and body,
forming the bertha; and sleeves
looped up with white roses;
turquoise fan and slippers to
match
1 blue mercantique (lined), low 200
body, trimmed with Honiton lace,
body and sleeves; one piece of
silk to match, unmade, intended
for high body, and bons; sleeves
slashed open and lined with white
satin
1 rose-colored robe, with $250
flounces; high and low body,
having fringe and trimming woven
to imitate Russian fur; both
bodies trimmed with fringe
ribbons and narrow lace
1 mauve-colored glace silk, 180
braided and bugled all around the
bottom of skirt, on the front of
body, around the band of
Garibaldi body, down the sleeves
and round the cuffs of Garibaldi
body; the low body, with bertha
deeply braided and bugled, with
sleeves to match; long sash, with
end and bows and belts, all
richly braided and bugled with
thread lace
1 vraie couleur de rose 300
gros-de-Naples, with flounces
richly brocaded with bouquet in
natural size and color, made to
represent the same in panels,
trimmed with gimp and fringe to
match; also, high and low body,
with bertha and trimmings to
match
1 pink morning robe, very superb, 250
trimmed down the side with white
satin a quarter of a yard wide,
sleeves trimmed to match,
satin-stitched, with flounces in
pink silk on edge of satin,
passementerie cord and tassels
1 gold-colored silk aersphane, 100
with three skirts, each skirt
trimmed with quillings of yellow
satin ribbon, looped up with pink
roses: body to match, trimmed
with silk blonde; white blonde
round the neck; satin quillings;
silk blonde on the sleeves, and
lace and yellow satin; rich
underskirt to match
2 very richly embroidered French 100
cambric morning-dresses, with
bullion and heavy satin ribbons
running through; one lined
throughout with pink, the other
with blue silk
1 rich black silk glace, trimmed 200
with bugles and black velvet
1 blue-black Irish silk poplin, 125
made in Gabrielle style, trimmed
with scarlet velvet all round the
skirt; sleeves and body-belt and
buckle to match
1 Cashmere, shawl pattern, 100
morning-dress, lined; sleeves and
flies lined with red silk, cord
and tassels to match; not twice
on
1 white Swiss muslin, with double 90
skirt and ribbon running through
the upper and lower hems of each
skirt, of pink satin; body with
Greek sleeves to match
1 straw-colored silk dress, 80
trimmed with black velvet, and
body of the same
1 white Swiss muslin robe, with 95
one plain skirt and one above,
graduated by larger and smaller
tucks to imitate three flounces;
the sleeves with puffs, and long
sleeves with tucks, down and
across to match skirts, and
Garibaldi body made to match; one
pink satin under-body to go with
it
1 white Swiss muslin dress, with 90
three flounces, quilled and
tucked, graduated one above the
other, with headings of lace on
the top of each flounce; low
body, with tuck, bretelles and
broad colored sarsnet ribbon
1 India muslin dress, very full, $110
embroidered to imitate three
flounces; and Greek body and
sleeves, also embroidered to
match sky-blue skirt and body to
go underneath
1 India muslin dress, double 90
skirt, richly embroidered, with
high jacket and long sleeves
embroidered to match
1 pink satin skirt and bodice, to 25
go underneath
1 white long morning dress, 60
embroidered round the skirt and
up the front, in two flounces,
one hanging over the other;
sleeves and cuffs to match
1 white muslin, with white spots, 80
skirt and bodice trimmed with
bullion and narrow real
Valenciennes lace
2 white cambric morning-dresses, 275
one very richly embroidered, in
wheels and flounces; and jacket
to match
1 white Swiss muslin jacket, very 100
richly embroidered; skirt and
bodice to match
3 cambric tight-fitting jackets, 120
with collar and sleeves very
richly embroidered, to imitate
old Spanish point
5 Marie Antoinettes, made 300
entirely of French muslin, with
triple bullion and double face;
pink satin ribbon running
through. Cost $60 each
1 pique morning dress and jacket, 75
richly embroidered
1 pique skirt, richly embroidered 50
6 fine Swiss muslin skirts, four 55
yards in each, trimmed with two
rows of real lace, to set in
full, finely finished
2 very rich bastistes, for 120
morning-dresses
2 very fine cambric skirts, 60
delicately embroidered, to wear
with open morning-dresses
2 fine linen skirts, embroidered 40
in open work
2 silk grenadine dresses, trimmed 200
with Maltese lace and velvet; two
bodices to match, blue and green
2 silk bareges, trimmed with 200
velvet and fringe, and bodice to
match
1 Scotch catlin silk full dress, 100
Stewart, trimmed with black
velvet and fringe, made to match
colors of dress
3 Balmoral skirts, very elegant, 90
embroidered in silk
1 ponceau silk dress, trimmed 250
with llama fringe and gold balls;
body and sleeves very richly
trimmed to match
1 blue silk to match, trimmed 250
with steel fringe and bugles;
body and sleeves richly trimmed
1 French muslin jacket, with 40
lapels and sleeves to turn back,
very heavily embroidered
1 set point d'Alencon, consisting 120
of shirt sleeves, handkerchief,
and collar
1 point d'Alencon extra large 100
handkerchief
1 set Honiton lace, consisting of $80
handkerchief, collar, and sleeves
1 set Maltese lace, consisting of 300
handkerchief, collar, velvet cape
1 set Irish point lace, very 80
rich, consisting of wide, deep
sleeves, handkerchief and collar
1 cape of ditto, going up to the 35
neck and shut at the back
2 black lace mantillas 40
1 black lace jacket 15
1 cape, composed of Valenciennes 75
lace
2 dozen very rich embroidered 120
cambric chemises, with lace
6 ditto, with puffed bullions in 100
front
18 Irish linen chemises, with 200
very rich fronts
7 Irish linen, embroidered 40
1 dozen night-dresses, very rich 216
fronts
3 linen ditto, very rich 75
1 dozen embroidered drawers 72
2 very rich ditto 50
11 new pairs silk stockings, in 40
box
1 dozen Lisle thread stockings 20
9 pairs boots and shoes 45
3 pairs embroidered slippers, 40
very rich, in gold
1 pair Irish point lace sleeves 30
(extra)
1 black velvet embroidered 450
mantilla, imported
1 ditto, silk, embroidered with 100
bugles, imported
1 glace silk, tight-fitting 65
basque, with black zeplore lace
cape; trimmed in every width with
narrow lace to match
1 black silk Arab, with two 25
tassels
1 dust-wrapper, from Cashmere 18
4 magnificent opera-cloaks 175
1 red scarlet cloth cloak, 12
trimmed with yellow cord
1 cloth, drab-color cloak 8
1 cloak, with hood lined with 10
silk
2 dozen cambric, embroidered, 24
with name Fanny
1 set Russian sable muffs, cape 100
and boa
1 tortoise shell comb, made in 50
one piece and very rich
6 fancy combs 30
1 very rich mother-of-pearl, gold 85
inlaid, and vol. feathers
beautifully painted by hand
1 fan of mother-of pearl, inlaid 45
in gold, with silk and white and
Job's spangles
1 blue mother-of-pearl, with 35
looking-glass; imitation ruby and
emeralds
6 other fans, of various kinds 25
1 parasol, all ivory handle 100
throughout, engraved with name in
full, covering of silk and Irish
point lace, very fine, covering
the entire parasol
Several other parasols $25
1 real gold head-ornament, 100
representing the comet and
eclipse appearing
About twenty hair-nets, silver, 40
gold, and all colors and pearls
4 ladies' bonnets, some 100
exceedingly elegant
1 box marabout feathers, for 50
dressing the hair
1 box artificial flowers l5
1 lot new ribbon, for sashes; 35
velvet, silk, and satin
1 small miniature model piano, 50
played by mechanism, from Vienna
1 lady's writing-desk, inlaid 200
with tortoise-shell and
mother-of-pearl, lined with silk
velvet, with compartments and
secretary; carved mother-of-pearl
paper-knife, gold seal, gold
pencil, case full of fancy
writing paper; made in Paris
1 bula work-box, elegant; inlaid 125
with silver and lined with
ci-satin, fitted with gold
thimble, needle, scissors,
pen-knife, gold bodkin, cotton
winders; outside to match French
piano
1 long knitting-case to match the 40
above, fitted with needles, beads
and silk of every description
1 papier-mache work-box, and 5
fitted up
1 morocco work-bag, ornamented 3
with bright steel; fitted up with
scissors, thimble, etc
1 lady's Russia leather 15
shopping-bag, with silver and
gilt clasps for chain and key
1 18-karat gold filigree 20
card-case
1 set gold whist-markers, in 50
hands on little box, a present
unto her
1 lady's small work-bag, silk 5
fittings
1 solid silver porte-monnaie 19
1 little blue porte-monnaie; 3
velvet, and cords and tassel
1 ladies' companion, with fixings 45
in silver; a present
1 hair-pin stand; a small 14
book-case, with small drawers and
mirror
1 basket of mother-of-pearl, and 35
gilt and red satin, full of
wax-flowers
1 elegant Bible in gilt, edge 30
mounted in gold
43 volumes various miniature 100
books, bound most elegantly in
morocco, and brought as a present
from Europe
1 silver pin-cushion and sewer 23
for fastening on the table
1 elegant, richly carved ivory 400
work-table, brought from Mexico,
inside fitted up with silk and
different compartments, standing
three feet high
1 lady's solid silver rutler, 25
from Mexico
1 gilt head-ornament, 3
representing a dagger
1 lady's English dressing-case, $250
solid silver fittings, English
make and stamp, rosewood, bound
with brass and gilt, fitted and
lined with silver
1 pair rich carved ivory hair 155
brushes, engraved with name and
crest
1 ditto engraved and crest 55
1 small ivory hair-brush 12
1 ebony hair-brush, inlaid with 20
mother-of-pearl
1 Berlin-wool worked cushion 50
1 sewing-chair, elegantly 75
embroidered seat and back
1 Berlin-wool Affghan 100
1 fire-screen, Berlin work, 125
beads, representing Charles II.
hunting
1 large sole-leather trunk, about 250
four feet long and three feet
deep, lined with red morocco,
handsomely ornamented in gold,
embossed on the red morocco, with
seven compartments; very
scientifically constructed for
the necessities of a lady's
wardrobe, with springs to hold
open each compartment; and the
lace compartment could, at
pleasure, be rested on two steel
legs, covered with gilt embossed
morocco, representing a writing
table, with a portfolio,
containing writing materials; it
had two large French patent locks
1 lady's travelling trunk, with 73
cover, containing a quantity of
worn dresses, zouave cloth and
gold, druided jacket cloaks,
woollen ditto, opera cloak, etc
Total $21,000

Such lavish expenditure is a natural consequence of a state of society
where wealth is the main distinction. Mrs. John Smith's position as a
leader of the _ton_ is due exclusively to her great riches and her
elaborate displays. Mrs. Richard Roe will naturally try to outshine her,
and thus rise above her in the social scale. Many persons seeking
admission into such society, and finding wealth the only requisite, will
make any sacrifice to accomplish their end. If they have not wealth they
will affect to have it. They could not counterfeit good birth, or high
breeding, but they can assume the appearance of being wealthy. They can
conduct themselves, for a while at least, in a manner utterly
disproportioned to their means, and so they go on, until their funds and
credit being exhausted, they are forced to drop out of the circles in
which they have moved, and the so-called friends who valued them only for
their supposed wealth, instantly forget that they ever knew them. No
more invitations are left for them, they are not even tolerated in "good
society," and are "cut" on the street as a matter of course.

Not a year passes but records the failure of some prominent business man
in New York. His friends are sorry for him, and admit that he was
prudent and industrious in his business. "His family did it," they tell
you, shaking their heads. "They lived too fast. Took too much money to
run the house, to dress, and to keep up in society." Only the All Seeing
Eye can tell how many men who stand well in the mercantile community are
tortured continually by the thought that their extravagance or that of
their families is bringing them to sure and certain ruin; for not even in
New York can a man live beyond his actual means. They have not the moral
courage to live within their legitimate incomes. To do so would be to
lose their positions in society, and they go on straining every nerve to
meet the demands upon them, and then the crash comes, and they are
ruined.

Those who dwell in the great city, and watch its ways with observant
eyes, see many evils directly attributable to the sin of extravagance.
These evils are not entirely of a pecuniary nature. There are others of
a more terrible character. Keen observers see every day women whose
husbands and fathers are in receipt of limited incomes, dressing as if
their means were unlimited. All this magnificence is not purchased out
of the lawful income of the husband or father. The excess is made up in
other ways--often by the sacrifice of the woman's virtue. She finds a
man willing to pay liberally for her favors, and carries on an intrigue
with him, keeping her confiding husband in ignorance of it all the while.
She may have more than one lover--perhaps a dozen. When a woman sins
from motives such as these, she does not stop to count the cost. Her
sole object is to get money, _and she gets it_. It is this class of
nominally virtuous married and unmarried women that support the infamous
houses of assignation to be found in the city.

The curse of extravagance does not manifest itself in dress alone. One
cannot enter the residence of a single well-to-do person in the city
without seeing evidences of it. The house is loaded with the richest and
rarest of articles, all intended for show, and which are oftentimes
arranged without the least regard to taste. The object is to make the
house indicate as much wealth on the part of its owner as possible. It
makes but little difference whether the articles are worth what was paid
for them, or whether they are arranged artistically--if the sum total is
great, the owner is satisfied. It is a common thing to see the walls of
some elegant mansion disfigured with frescoes, which, though executed at
an enormous cost, are utterly without merit or taste. Again one sees
dozens of paintings, bought for works of the old masters, lining the
walls of the richest mansions of the city, which are the merest daubs,
and the works of the most unscrupulous Bohemians. Not long since, a
collection of paintings was offered for sale in New York, the owner being
dead. They had been collected at great expense, and were the pride of
their former owner. With a few exceptions they were wretched copies, and
in the whole lot, over five hundred in number, there were not six genuine
"old masters," or "masters" of any age.

Entertainments are given in the most costly style. From ten to twenty
thousand dollars are spent in a single evening in this way. At a
fashionable party from twelve to fifteen hundred dollars' worth of
champagne is consumed, besides other wines and liquors. Breakfasts are
given at a cost of from one to three thousand dollars; suppers at a still
higher cost. This represents the expense to the host of the
entertainment; but does not cover the cost of the toilettes to be
provided for the family, which make up several thousand dollars more.

Suppers or dinners are favorite entertainments, and the outlay required
for them is oftentimes very heavy. The host frequently provides nothing
but viands imported from foreign lands. Sets of china of great cost, or
of silver equally expensive, or even of gold, are displayed
ostentatiously. Sometimes the supper-room is entirely refitted in red,
blue, or gold, everything, even the lights and flowers, being of one
color, in order that the affair may be known as Mrs. A---'s red, blue, or
gold supper. Some of the most extravagant entertainers will place at the
side of each cover an exquisite bouquet inside of which is a costly
present of jewelry.

All this reckless expenditure in the midst of so much sorrow and
suffering in the great city! "The bitter cold of winter," says the
Manager of the 'Children's Aid Society,' in his appeal for help, "and the
freezing storms have come upon thousands of the poor children of this
city, unprepared. They are sleeping in boxes, or skulking in doorways,
or shivering in cellars without proper clothing, or shoes, and but
half-fed. Many come bare-footed through the snow to our industrial
schools. Children have been known to fall fainting on the floor of these
schools through want of food. Hundreds enter our lodging-houses every
night, who have no home. Hundreds apply to our office for a place in the
country, who are ragged, half-starved, and utterly unbefriended."

III. FASHIONABLE FOLLIES.

We have spoken of the women of fashion. What shall we say of the men?
They are neither refined nor intellectual. They have a certain
shrewdness coupled, perhaps, with the capacity for making money. Their
conversation is coarse, ignorant, and sometimes indecent. They have not
the tact which enables women to adapt themselves at once to their
surroundings, and they enjoy their splendors with an awkwardness which
they seek to hide beneath an air of worldly wisdom. They patronize the
drama liberally, but their preference is for what Olive Logan calls "the
leg business." In person they are coarse-looking. Without taste of
their own, they are totally dependent upon their tailors for their
"style," and are nearly all gotten up on the same model. They are
capital hands at staring ladies out of countenance, and are masters of
all the arts of insolence. Society cannot make gentlemen out of them do
what it will. As John Hibbs would say, "they were not brought up to it
young." They learn to love excitement, and finding even the reckless
whirl of fashion too stale for them, seek gratification out of their own
homes. They become constant visitors at the great gaming-houses, and are
the best customers of the bagnios of the city.

If men have their dissipations, the women have theirs also. Your
fashionable woman generally displays more tact than her husband. She has
greater opportunities for display, and makes better use of them. If the
ball, or party, or sociable at her residence is a success, the credit is
hers exclusively, for the husband does little more than pay the bills.
Many of these women are "from the ranks." They have risen with their
husbands, and are coarse and vulgar in appearance, and without
refinement. But the women of fashion are not all vulgar or unrefined.
Few of them are well educated, but the New York woman of fashion, as a
rule, is not only very attractive in appearance, but capable of creating
a decided impression upon the society in which she moves. She is
thoroughly mistress of all its arts, she knows just when and where to
exercise them to the best advantage, she dresses in a style the
magnificence of which is indescribable, and she has tact enough to carry
her through any situation. Yet, in judging her, one must view her as a
butterfly, as a mere creature of magnificence and frivolity. Don't seek
to analyze her character as a wife or mother. You may find that the
marriage vow is broken on her part as well as on her husband's; and you
will most probably find that she has sacrificed her soul to the demands
of fashion, and "prevented the increase of her family" by staining her
hands in the blood of her unborn children. Or, if she be guiltless of
this crime, she is a mother in but one sense--that of bearing children.
Fashion does not allow her to nurse them. She cannot give to her own
flesh and blood the time demanded of her by her "duties in society;" so
from their very birth the little innocents are committed to the care of
hirelings, and they grow up without her care, removed from the ennobling
effect of a mother's constant watchful presence, and they add to the
number of idle, dissolute men and women of fashion, who are a curse to
the city.

Your fashionable woman is all art. She is indeed "fearfully and
wonderfully made." She is a compound frequently of false hair, false
teeth, padding of various kinds, paint, powder and enamel. Her face is
"touched up," or painted and lined by a professional adorner of women,
and she utterly destroys the health of her skin by her foolish use of
cosmetics. A prominent Broadway dealer in such articles sells thirteen
varieties of powder for the skin, eight kinds of paste, and twenty-three
different washes. Every physical defect is skilfully remedied by
"artists;" each of whom has his specialty. So common has the habit of
resorting to these things become, that it is hard to say whether the
average woman of fashion is a work of nature or a work of art. Men marry
such women with a kind of "taking the chances" feeling, and if they get a
natural woman think themselves lucky.

IV. FASHIONABLE CHILDREN.

As it is the custom in fashionable society in New York to prevent the
increase of families, it is natural no doubt to try to destroy childhood
in those who are permitted to see the light.

The fashionable child of New York is made a miniature man or woman at the
earliest possible period of its life. It does not need much labor,
however, to develop "Young America" in the great metropolis. He is
generally ready to go out into the world at a very tender age. Our
system of society offers him every facility in his downward career. When
but a child he has his own latch-key; he can come and go when he pleases;
he attends parties, balls, dancing-school, the theatre and other evening
amusements as regularly and independently as his elders, and is rarely
called upon by "the Governor," as he patronizingly terms his father, to
give any account of himself. He has an abundance of pocket-money, and is
encouraged in the lavish expenditure of it. He cultivates all the vices
of his grown-up friends; and thinks church going a punishment and
religion a bore. He engages in his dissipations with a recklessness that
makes old sinners envious of his "nerve." His friends are hardly such as
he could introduce into his home. He is a famous "hunter of the tiger,"
and laughs at his losses. He has a mistress, or perhaps several; sneers
at marriage, and gives it as his opinion that there is not a virtuous
woman in the land. When he is fairly of age he has lost his freshness,
and is tired of life. His great object now is to render his existence
supportable.

Girls are forced into womanhood by fashion even more rapidly than boys
into manhood. They are dressed in the most expensive manner from their
infancy, and without much regard to their health. Bare arms and necks,
and short skirts are the rule, even in the bleakest weather, for
children's parties, or for dancing-school, and so the tender frames of
the little ones are subjected to an exposure that often sows the seeds of
consumption and other disease. The first thing the child learns is that
it is its duty to be pretty--to look its best. It is taught to value
dress and show as the great necessities of existence, and is trained in
the most extravagant habits. As the girl advances towards maidenhood,
she is forced forward, and made to look as much like a woman as possible.
Her education is cared for after a fashion, but amounts to very little.
She learns to play a little on some musical instrument, to sing a little,
to paint a little--in short she acquires but a smattering of everything
she undertakes. She is left in ignorance of the real duties of a woman's
life--the higher and nobler part of her existence. She marries young,
and one of her own set, and her married life is in keeping with her
girlhood. She is a creature in which nothing has been fully developed
but the passions and the nerves. Her physical constitution amounts to
nothing, and soon gives way. Her beauty goes with her health, and she is
forced to resort to all manner of devices to preserve her attractions.

It is a habit in New York to allow children to give large entertainments
at fashionable resorts, without the restraining presence of their elders.
Here crowds of boys and girls of a susceptible age assemble under the
intoxicating influence of music, gas-light, full dress, late suppers,
wines and liquors. Sometimes this juvenile dissipation has been carried
so far that it has been sharply rebuked by the public press.

V. A FASHIONABLE BELLE.

An English writer gives the following clever sketch of a fashionable
young lady of New York, whom he offers as a type of the "Girl of the
Period:"

"Permit me to present you to Miss Flora Van Duysen Briggs. Forget
Shakspeare's _dictum_ about a name; there is a story attached to this
name which I shall tell you by and by. Miss Flora is a typical New York
girl of the period; between sixteen and seventeen years old; a little
under the medium height; hair a golden brown; eyes a violet blue; cheeks
and lips rosy; teeth whiter and brighter than pearls; hands and feet
extremely small and well-shaped; figure _petite_ but exquisitely
proportioned; _toilette_ in the latest _mode de Paris_; but observe,
above all, that marvellous bloom upon her face, which American girls
share with the butterfly, the rose, the peach and the grape, and in which
they are unequalled by any other women in the world.

"Miss Flora's biography is by no means singular. Her father is Ezra
Briggs, Esq., a provision merchant in the city. Twenty-five years ago,
Mr. Briggs came to New York from one the Eastern States, with a
common-school education, sharp sense, and no money. He borrowed a
newspaper, found an advertisement for a light porter, applied for and
obtained the situation, rose to be clerk, head-clerk, and small partner,
and fagged along very comfortably until the Civil War broke out, and made
his fortune. His firm secured a government contract, for which they paid
dearly, and for which they made the Government pay dearer. Their pork
was bought for a song, and sold for its weight in greenbacks. Their
profits averaged 300 per cent. They were more fatal to the soldiers than
the bullets of the enemy. One consignment of their provisions bred a
cholera at Fortress Monroe, and robbed the Union of 15,000 brave men.
Their enemies declared that the final defeat of the Southerners was owing
to the capture of 1000 barrels of Briggs's mess beef by General Lee. But
Briggs was rolling in wealth, and could afford to smile at such taunts.

"Flora's mother had been a Miss Van Duysen. She was a little, weak,
useless woman, very proud of her name, which seemed to connect her in
some way with the old Dutch aristocracy. In point of fact, Briggs
married her on this account; for, like most democrats, he is very fond of
anything aristocratic. Mrs. Briggs, _nee_ Van Duysen, has nothing Dutch
about her but her name. The Knickerbockers of New York were famous for
their thrift, their economy, their neatness, and, above all, their
housewifely virtues. Mrs. Briggs is thriftless, extravagant, dowdy in
her old age, although she had been a beauty in her youth, and knows as
little about keeping a house as she does about keeping a horse. During
the war, at a fair given for the benefit of the Sanitary Commission, in
Union Square, several Knickerbocker ladies organized a kitchen upon the
old Dutch model, and presided there in the costumes of their
grandmothers. Mrs. Briggs was placed upon the committee of management,
but declined to serve, on account of the unbecoming costume she was
invited to wear, and because she considered it unladylike to sit in a
kitchen. But Mrs. Briggs preserved her caste, and benefited the Sanitary
Commission much more than she would have done by her presence, by sending
a cheque for $500 instead.

"Do we linger too long upon these family matters? No; to appreciate Miss
Flora, you must understand her surroundings. She has never had a home.
Born in a boarding-house, when her parents were not rich, she lives at a
hotel now that her father is a millionaire. Mr. Briggs married the name
of Van Duysen, in order to get into society. Miss Van Duysen married
Briggs's money, in order to spend it. Miss Flora Van Duysen Briggs
combines her mother's name and her father's money; her Mother's early
beauty and her father's shrewdness; her mother's extravagance and her
father's weakness for the aristocracy. She has good taste, as her
_toilette_ shows; but she does not believe that anything can be tasteful
that is not expensive. Her aim is to run ahead of the fashions, instead
of following them; but she is clever enough to so adapt them to her face
and figure, that she always looks well-dressed, and yet always attracts
attention. Her little handsome head is full of native wit, and of
nothing else. Her education has been shamefully neglected. She has had
the best masters, who have taught her nothing. Like all other American
girls, she plays on the piano, but does not play the piano--you will
please notice this subtle but suggestive distinction. She has picked up
a smattering of French, partly because it is a fashionable
accomplishment, and partly because she intends to marry; but I will not
yet break your heart by announcing her matrimonial intentions. Compared
with an English or French girl of the same age, she has many and grave
deficiencies; but she atones for them by a wonderful tact and cleverness,
which blind you to all her faults and lend a new grace to all her
virtues.

"Truth to say, the admirers of Miss Flora, whose name is Legion, give her
the credit for all her own virtues, and blame her father and mother, and
the system, for all her faults. Born, as we have said, in a
boarding-house, left entirely in charge of the nurse-maid, educated at a
fashionable day-school, brought into society before fifteen, living in
the whirl, the bustle, the luxury, and the unhomeliness of a hotel, what
could you expect of Miss Flora but that she should be, at seventeen years
of age, a butterfly in her habits, a clever dunce as regards solid
knowledge, and a premature woman of the world in her tastes and manners?
The apartments which the Briggs family occupy at the Fifth Avenue Hotel
are magnificently decorated and furnished, but they do not constitute a
home. Several times Mr. Briggs has offered to purchase a house in a
fashionable thoroughfare; but his wife objects to the trouble of managing
unruly servants, and terrifies Mr. Briggs out of the notion by stories of
burglars admitted, and plate stolen, and families murdered in their beds,
through the connivance of the domestics. What more can any one desire
than the Briggs family obtain at the hotel for a fixed sum per week, and
a liberal margin for extras? The apartments are ample and comfortable;
the _cuisine_ and the wines are irreproachable; there is a small table
reserved for them, to which they can invite whom they choose; an immense
staff of servants obey their slightest wish; their carriages, kept at a
neighboring livery stable, can be sent for at any moment; they are as
secluded in their own rooms as if they lived in another street, so far as
the family in the next _suite_ is concerned; they are certain to meet
everybody, and can choose their own company; the spacious hotel parlors
are at their disposal whenever they wish to give an evening party,
reception, or _the dansant_. What more could they gain by setting up a
private house? Mr. Briggs, having never tried the experiment, does not
know. Mrs. Briggs, whose only reminiscence of a private residence is the
one in which her mother let lodgings, does not know. Miss Flora Van
Duysen Briggs, having never been used to any other way of life than the
present, neither knows nor cares, and 'does not want to be bothered.'

"The Briggs family spend their winters in town, their summers at Newport,
Saratoga, or some other watering-place, at which nobody cares anything
about the water. The frequenters of these rural or seaside retreats are
presumed to come for their health, but really come to show their dresses.
Thus Miss Flora's life varies very little all the year round; she rises
late, and is dressed for breakfast; after breakfast she practises upon
the piano, shops with her mamma, and returns to be dressed for luncheon;
after luncheon she usually takes a brief nap, or lies down to read a
novel, and is then dressed for the afternoon promenade, as you have just
seen her; after the promenade she is dressed for a drive with mamma in
the Central Park; after the drive she is dressed for dinner, or dines in
her out-of-door costume, preparatory to being dressed for the opera, the
theatre, a ball, or a party. Every Tuesday she receives calls; every
Thursday she calls upon her acquaintances. Whenever she has a spare
moment, it is bestowed upon her dressmaker. If she thinks, it is to
design new trimmings; if she dreams, it is of a heavenly _soiree
dansante_, with an eternal waltz to everlasting music, and a tireless
partner in paradisiacal Paris.

"As all the best and--in a double sense--the dearest things of Miss
Flora's life come from Paris, it is quite natural that she should look to
Paris for her future. The best of all authorities declares that 'where
the treasure is there will the heart be also.' Miss Flora's treasures
are in the Parisian _magasins_, and her heart is with them. Although
scores of young men kneel at her feet, press her hands, and deride the
stars in comparison with her eyes, she cares for none of her worshippers.
She smiles upon them, but the smile is no deeper than the lips; she
flirts with them, but stops at that sharp, invisible line which separates
a flirtation from a compromising earnestness; she is a coquette, but not
a jilt. If she encourages all, it is because she prefers none. Her
heart has never been touched, and she knows that none of her admirers in
her own country can hope to touch it. Her rivals scornfully assert that
she has no heart; but as she is, after all, a woman, this assertion must
be incorrect. She is in love with an ideal, but that ideal has a title.
So soon as Mr. Briggs can dispose of his business, Miss Flora is to be
taken to Paris. Within two years afterwards she will be led to the altar
by a French duke, marquis, or count, who will fall in love with her
father's bank-book, and then she will figure as an ornament of the French
Court, or the _salons_ of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. This is her
ambition, and she will certainly accomplish it. The blood of the Van
Duysens and the money of Briggs can accomplish anything when united in
Miss Flora. With this end in view, the little lady is as inaccessible to
ordinary admirers as a princess. She is a duchess by anticipation, and
feels the pride of station in advance. There is no danger that she will
falter in the race through any womanly weakness, nor through any lack of
knowledge of the wiles of men. With the beauty of Venus and the chastity
of Diana, she also possesses qualities derived directly from Mother Eve.
An English matron would blush to know, and a French _mere_ would be
astonished to learn, secrets which Miss Flora has at her pretty
finger-ends. She has acquired her knowledge innocently, and she will use
it judiciously. Nothing escapes her quick eyes and keen ears, and under
that demure forehead is a faculty which enables her to 'put this and that
together,' and arrive at conclusions which would amaze her less acute
foreign sisters. You may not envy her this faculty, but do not accuse
her of employing it improperly. She will never disgrace herself nor the
coronet which she already feels pressing lightly upon her head. As she
trips out of sight, it may give any man a heart-pang to think that there
is at least one lovely woman who is impenetrable to love; but then, if
she were like those dear, soft, fond, impressible, confiding beauties of
a former age, she would not be herself--a Girl of the Period."

VI. FASHIONABLE ENTERTAINMENTS.

New York has long been celebrated for its magnificent social
entertainments. Its balls, dinner parties, receptions, private
theatricals, pic-nics, croquet parties, and similar gatherings are
unsurpassed in respect to show in any city in the world. Every year some
new species of entertainment is devised by some leader in society, and
repeated throughout the season by every one who can raise the money to
pay for it. The variety, however, is chiefly in the name, for all
parties, breakfasts, dinners, suppers, or receptions are alike.

Of late years it is becoming common not to give entertainments at one's
residence, but to hire public rooms set apart for that purpose. There is
a large house in the upper part of Fifth avenue, which is fitted up
exclusively for the use of persons giving balls, suppers, or receptions.
It is so large that several entertainments can be held at the same time
on its different floors, without either annoying or inconveniencing the
others. The proprietor of the establishment provides everything down to
the minutest detail, the wishes and tastes of the giver of the
entertainment being scrupulously respected in everything. The host and
hostess, in consequence, have no trouble, but have simply to be on hand
at the proper time to receive their guests. This is a very expensive
mode of entertaining, and costs from 5000 to 15,000 dollars, for the
caterer expects a liberal profit on everything he provides; but to those
who can afford it, it is a very sensible plan. It saves an immense
amount of trouble at home, and preserves one's carpets and furniture from
the damage invariably done to them on such occasions, and averts all
possibility of robbery by the strange servants one is forced to employ.
Still, many who possess large and elegant mansions of their own prefer to
entertain at their own homes.

On such occasions, the lady giving the entertainment issues her
invitations, and usually summons the famous Brown, the Sexton of Grace
Church, to assist her in deciding who shall be asked beyond her immediate
circle of friends. Mr. Brown is a very tyrant in such matters, and makes
out the list to suit himself rather than to please the hostess. He has
full authority from her to invite any distinguished strangers who may be
in the city.

Upon the evening appointed a carpet is spread from the curbstone to the
front door, and over this is placed a temporary awning. A policeman is
engaged to keep off the crowd and regulate the movements of the
carriages. About nine o'clock magnificent equipages, with drivers and
footmen in livery, commence to arrive, and from these gorgeous vehicles
richly dressed ladies and gentlemen alight, and pass up the carpeted
steps to the entrance door. On such occasions gentlemen are excluded
from the carriage if possible, as all the space within the vehicle is
needed for the lady's skirts. The lady is accompanied by a maid whose
business it is to adjust her _toilette_ in the dressing room, and see
that everything is in its proper place.

At the door stands some one, generally the inevitable Brown, to receive
the cards of invitation. Once admitted, the ladies and gentlemen pass
into the dressing rooms set apart for them. Here they put the last
touches to their dress and hair, and, the ladies having joined their
escorts, enter the drawing room and pay their respects to the host and
hostess. When from one to two thousand guests are to be received, the
reader may imagine that the labors of the host and hostess are not
slight.

Every arrangement is made for dancing. A fine orchestra is provided, and
is placed so that it may consume as little space as possible. A row of
chairs placed around the room, and tied in couples with
pocket-handkerchiefs, denotes that "The German" is to be danced during
the course of the evening. There is very little dancing, however, of any
kind, before midnight, the intervening time being taken up with the
arrivals of guests and promenading.

About midnight the supper room is thrown open, and there is a rush for
the tables, which are loaded with every delicacy that money can buy. The
New York physicians ought to be devoutly thankful for these suppers.
They bring them many a fee. The servants are all French, and are clad in
black swallow-tail coats and pants, with immaculate white vests, cravats
and gloves. They are as active as a set of monkeys, and are capital
hands at anticipating your wants. Sometimes the refreshments are served
in the parlors, and are handed to the guests by the servants.

The richest and costliest of wines flow freely. At a certain
entertainment given not long since, 500 bottles of champagne, worth over
four dollars each, were drunk. Some young men make a habit of abstaining
carefully during the day, in order to be the better prepared to drink at
night. The ladies drink almost as heavily as the men, and some of them
could easily drink their partners under the table.

After supper the dancing begins in earnest. If The German is danced it
generally consumes the greater part of the evening. I shall not
undertake to describe it here. It is a great mystery, and those who
understand it appear to have exhausted in mastering it their capacity for
understanding anything else. It is a dance in which the greatest freedom
is permitted, and in which liberties are taken and encouraged, which
would be resented under other circumstances. The figures really depend
upon the leader of the dance, who can set such as he chooses, or devise
them, if he has wit enough. All the rest are compelled to follow his
example. The dance is thoroughly suited to the society we are
considering, and owes its popularity to the liberties, to use no stronger
term, it permits.

[Picture: THE GERMAN]

The _toilettes_ of the persons present are magnificent. The ladies are
very queens in their gorgeousness. They make their trails so long that
half the men are in mortal dread of breaking their necks over them; and
having gone to such expense for dry goods in this quarter, they display
the greatest economy about the neck and bust. They may be in "full
dress" as to the lower parts of their bodies, but they are fearfully
undressed from the head to the waist.

Towards morning the ball breaks up. The guests, worn out with fatigue,
and not unfrequently confused with liquor, take leave of their hosts and
go home. Many of them repeat the same performance almost nightly during
the season. No wonder that when the summer comes they are so much in
need of recuperation.

VII. MARRIAGE AND DEATH.

Only wealthy marriages are tolerated in New York society. For men or
women to marry beneath them is a crime society cannot forgive. There
must be fortune on one side at least. Marriages for money are directly
encouraged. It is not uncommon for a man who has won a fortune to make
the marriage of his daughter the means of getting his family into
society. He will go to some young man within the pale of good society,
and offer him the hand of his daughter and a fortune. The condition
demanded of the aforesaid young man is that he shall do what may lie
within his power to get the family of the bride within the charmed
circle. If the girl is good looking, or agreeable, the offer is rarely
refused.

When a marriage is decided upon, the engagement is announced through one
of the "society newspapers," of which there are several. It is the
bounden duty of the happy pair to be married in a fashionable church. To
be married in or buried from Grace or St. Thomas's Church, is the desire
of every fashionable heart. Invitations are issued to the friends of the
two families, and no one is admitted into the church without a card.
Often "no cards" are issued, and the church is jammed by the outside
throng, who profane the holy temple by their unmannerly struggles to
secure places from which to view the ceremony. Two clergymen are usually
engaged to tie the knot, in order that a Divorce Court may find it the
easier to undo. A reporter is on hand, who furnishes the city papers
with a full description of the grand affair. The dresses, the jewels,
the appearance of the bride and groom, and the company generally, are
described with all the eloquence Jenkins is master of.

If the wedding be at Grace Church, Brown, "the great sexton" is in
charge. A wedding over which he presides is sure to be a great success.
A wonderful man is Brown. No account of New York society would be
complete without a few words about Brown. He has been sexton of Grace
Church ever since the oldest inhabitant can remember, and those familiar
with the matter are sorely puzzled to know what the church will do when
Brown is gathered to his fathers. The congregation would sooner part
with the best Rector they have ever had than give up Brown. A certain
Rector did once try to compel him to resign his post because he, the
Rector, did not fancy Brown's ways, which he said were hardly consistent
with the reverence due the house of God. The congregation, however, were
aghast at the prospect of losing Brown, and plainly gave the Rector to
understand that he must not interfere with the sexton. Never mind about
his want of reverence. The Rector's business was to look after the
religious part of the congregation, while Brown superintended the secular
affairs of that fashionable corporation. They had use for the Rector
only on Sunday; but Brown they looked up to every day in the week. The
Rector meekly subsided, and Brown forgave him.

A very lucky man is Brown, and very far from being a fool. There is no
sharper, shrewder man in New York, and no one who estimates his customers
more correctly. He puts a high price on his services, and is said to
have accumulated a handsome fortune, popularly estimated at about
$300,000. Fat and sleek, and smooth of tongue, he can be a very despot
when he chooses. He keeps a list of the fashionable young men of the
city, who find it to their interest to be on good terms with him, since
they are mainly dependent upon him for their invitations. Report says
that, like a certain great statesman, Brown is not averse to receiving a
small present now and then as a reminder of the gratitude of the
recipients of his favors.

Brown is sixty years old, but time has dealt lightly with him, and he is
still hale and hearty. He knows all the gossip of New York for thirty
years back, but also knows how to hold his tongue. To see him in his
glory, one should wait until the breaking up of some great party. Then
he takes his stand on the steps of the mansion, and in the most pompous
manner calls the carriages of the guests. There is no chance for sleep
in the neighborhood when the great voice of the "great sexton" is roaring
down the avenue. He takes care that the whole neighborhood shall know
who have honored the entertainment with their presence.

He has a sharp tongue, too, this Brown, when he chooses to use it, and a
good story is told of this quality of his. He was once calling the
carriages at a brilliant party. Among the guests was Harry X---, a young
gentleman of fortune, concerning whose morals some hard things were said.
It was hinted that Mr. X--- was rather too fond of faro. The young
gentleman and the great sexton were not on good terms, and when Brown,
having summoned Mr. X---'s carriage, asked, as usual, "Where to, sir?" he
received the short and sharp reply, "To where he brought me from." "All
right, sir," said Brown, calmly, and turning to the driver he exclaimed
in a loud tone, "Drive Mr. X--- to John Chamberlain's faro-bank." A roar
of laughter greeted this sally, and Brown smiled serenely as his
discomfited enemy was driven away.

Fashionable weddings are very costly affairs. The outfits of the bride
and groom cost thousands of dollars, the extravagance of the man being
fully equal to that of his bride. A wedding is attended with numerous
entertainments, all of which are costly, and the expenses attendant upon
the affair itself are enormous. The outlay is not confined to the
parties immediately concerned, the friends of the happy pair must go to
great expense to give to the bride elegant and appropriate presents.
One, two, or three rooms, as may be required, are set apart at every
fashionable wedding, for the display of the presents. These are visited
and commented upon by the friends of the bride and groom, such being the
prescribed custom. The presents are frequently worth a handsome fortune.
At the marriage of the daughter of a notorious politician not long since,
the wedding presents were valued at more than $250,000. Efforts have
been repeatedly made to put a stop to the giving of such costly presents,
but the custom still continues.

As it is the ambition of every one of the class we are discussing to live
fashionably, so it is their chief wish to be laid in the grave in the
same style. The undertaker at a fashionable funeral is generally the
sexton of some fashionable church, perhaps of the church the deceased was
in the habit of attending. This individual prescribes the manner in
which the funeral ceremonies shall be conducted, and advises certain
styles of mourning for the family. Sometimes the blinds of the house are
closed, and the gas lighted in the hall and parlors. The lights in such
cases are arranged in the most artistic manner, and everything is made to
look as "interesting" as possible.

A certain fashionable sexton always refuses to allow the female members
of the family to follow their dead to the grave. He will not let them be
seen at the funeral, at all, as he says, "It's horribly vulgar to see a
lot of women crying about a corpse; and, besides, they're always in the
way."

The funeral over, the bereaved ones must remain in the house for a
certain length of time, the period being regulated by a set decree. To
be seen on the street within the prescribed time, would be to lose caste.
Many of the days of their seclusion are passed in consultations with
their _modiste_, in preparing the most fashionable mourning that can be
thought of. They no doubt agree fully with a certain famous _modiste_ of
the city, who once declared to a widow, but recently bereaved, that
"fashionable and becoming mourning is _so comforting_ to persons in
affliction."

Well, after all, only the rich can afford to die and be buried in style
in the great city. A lot in Greenwood is worth more than many
comfortable dwellings in Brooklyn. A fashionable funeral entails heavy
expenses upon the family of the deceased. The coffin must be of
rosewood, or some other costly material, and must be lined with satin. A
profusion of white flowers must be had to cover it and to deck the room
in which the corpse is laid out. The body must be dressed in a suit of
the latest style and finest quality, and the cost of the hearse and
carriages, the expenses at the church and cemetery, and the fees of the
undertaker, are very heavy. The average expense of such an occasion may
be set down at from $1500 to $2000.

VII. THE MUNICIPAL POLICE.

Until the passage of the new Charter in 1870, the Police Department was
independent of the control of the city officials, and consequently
independent of local political influences. There was a "Metropolitan
Police District," embracing the cities of New York and Brooklyn, and the
counties of New York, Kings, Richmond and Westchester, and a part of
Queen's county, in all a circuit of about thirty miles. The control of
this district was committed to a commission of five citizens, who were
subject to the supervision of the Legislature of the State. The Mayors
of New York and Brooklyn were ex-officio members of this board.

The Charter of 1870 changed all this. It broke up the Metropolitan
District, and placed the police of New York and Brooklyn under the
control of their respective municipal governments. To the credit of the
force be it said, the police of New York were less under the influence of
the Ring than any other portion of the municipality, and improved rather
than depreciated in efficiency.

As at present constituted, the force is under the control and supervision
of four Commissioners appointed by the Mayor. The force consists of a
Superintendent, four Inspectors, thirty-two Captains, one hundred and
twenty-eight Sergeants, sixty-four Roundsmen and 2085 Patrolmen,
Detectives, Doorkeepers, etc.

The present Superintendent of Police is Mr. James J. Kelso. He is the
Commander-in-chief of the force, and it is through him that all orders
are issued. His subordinates are responsible to him for the proper
discharge of their duties, and he in his turn to the Commissioners. He
was promoted to his present position on the death of Superintendent
Jourdan, and has rendered himself popular with men of all parties by his
conscientious discharge of his important duties. Mr. Kelso is eminently
fitted for his position. His long service in the force, and great
experience as a detective officer, have thoroughly familiarized him with
the criminals with whom he has to deal, and the crimes against which he
has to contend. He has maintained the discipline of the force at a high
point, and has been rigorous in dealing with the offenders against the
law. His sudden and sweeping descents upon the gambling hells, and other
disreputable places of the city, have stricken terror to the frequenters
thereof. They are constantly alarmed, for they know not at what moment
they may be captured by Kelso in one of his characteristic raids.

In person Mr. Kelso is a fine-looking, and rather handsome man. He shows
well at the head of the force. It is said that he was overwhelmed with
mortification last July, when the Mayor compelled him to forbid the
"Orange Parade," and thus make a cowardly surrender to the mob. When
Governor Hoffman revoked Mayor Hall's order, at the demand of the
indignant citizens, Kelso was perhaps the happiest man in New York. He
had a chance to vindicate his own manhood and the honor of the force, and
he and his men did nobly on that memorable day.

The city is divided into two Inspection Districts, each of which is in
charge of two Inspectors. Each Inspector is held responsible for the
general good conduct and order of his District. It is expected that he
will visit portions of it at uncertain hours of the night, in order that
the Patrolmen may be made more vigilant by their ignorance of the hour of
his appearance on their "beats." The Inspectors keep a constant watch
over the rank and file of the force. They examine the Police Stations,
and everything connected with them, at pleasure, and receive and
investigate complaints made by citizens against members of the force.
The creation of this useful grade is due to John A. Kennedy, the first
Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police.

The Inspection Districts are sub-divided into thirty-two precincts, in
each of which there is a Police Station. Each Station is in charge of a
Captain, who is held to a strict accountability for the preservation of
the peace and good order of his precinct. He has authority to post the
men under his command in such parts of his precinct, and to assign them
to such duties as he deems expedient, under the supervision of the
Superintendent. He is required to divide his force into two equal parts,
called the First and Second Platoons. Each Platoon consists of two
Sections. Each of the four Sections is in charge of a Sergeant.

In the illness or absence of the Captain, the Station and Precinct are
commanded by one of the Sergeants, who is named for that purpose by the
Superintendent. The special duties of the Sergeants are to patrol their
precincts, and see that the Roundsmen and Patrolmen are at their posts
and performing their duties properly. They are severally responsible for
the condition of their Sections. One of the Sergeants is required to
remain at the Station House at all times.

Two Roundsmen are selected by the Commissioners from the Patrolmen of
each precinct, and one of them is assigned to each platoon. They have
the immediate supervision of the Patrolmen, and are required to exercise
a vigilant watch over them at all times.

The Patrolmen are the privates of the force. They are assigned certain
"beats" or districts to watch. Many of these beats are too large for the
care of one man, and more is expected of the Patrolman than he is capable
of performing. He is required to exercise the utmost vigilance to
prevent the occurrence of any crime within his beat, and to render the
commission of it difficult, at the least. The occurrence of a crime on
the streets is always regarded as presumptive evidence of negligence on
his part, and he is obliged to show that he was strictly attending to his
duties at the time. He is required to watch vigilantly every person
passing him while on duty, to examine frequently the doors, lower
windows, and gates of the houses on his beat, and warn the occupants if
any are open or unlocked; to have a general knowledge of the persons
residing in his beat; to report to his commanding officer "all persons
known or suspected of being policy dealers, gamblers, receivers of stolen
property, thieves, burglars, or offenders of any kind;" to watch all
disorderly houses or houses of ill-fame, and observe "and report to his
commanding officer _all persons by whom they are frequented_;" to do
certain other things for the preservation of the public peace; and to
arrest for certain offences, all of which are laid down in the volume of
Regulations, of which each member of the force is obliged to have a copy.
Patrolmen are not allowed to converse with each other, except to ask or
impart information, upon meeting at the confines of their posts; "and
they must not engage in conversation with any person on any part of their
post, except in regard to matters concerning the immediate discharge of
their duties."

The uniform of the force is a frock coat and pants of dark blue navy
cloth, and a glazed cap. In the summer the dress is a sack and pants of
dark blue navy flannel. The officers are distinguished by appropriate
badges. Each member of the force is provided with a shield of a peculiar
pattern, on which is his number. This is his badge of office, and he is
obliged to show it when required. The men are armed with batons or short
clubs of hard wood, and revolvers. The latter they are forbidden to use
except in grave emergencies.

The general misdemeanors of which the police are bound to take notice,
are: Attempts to pick a pocket, especially where the thief is a known
pickpocket; cruel usage of animals in public places; interfering with the
telegraph wires; selling or carrying a slingshot; aiding in any way in a
prize fight, dog fight, or cock fight; destroying fences, trees, or
lamps, or defacing property; aiding in theatrical entertainments on
Sunday; disorderly conduct; participating in or inciting to riots;
assaults; drunkenness on the streets; gambling; discharging fire-arms on
the streets; and other stated offences. The officer must be careful to
arrest the true offender, and not to interfere with any innocent person,
and is forbidden to use violence unless the resistance of his prisoner is
such as to render violence absolutely necessary, and even then he is held
responsible for the particular degree of force exerted. If he is himself
unable to make the arrest, or if he has good reason to fear an attempt at
a rescue of the prisoner, it is his duty to call upon the bystanders for
assistance; and any person who refuses him when so called on, is guilty
of a misdemeanor, for which he may be arrested and punished.

Promotions are made in the force as follows: Inspectors are chosen from
the Captains, Captains from Sergeants, Sergeants from Roundsmen, and
Roundsmen from the most efficient Patrolmen.

The duties of a policeman are hard, and the salaries are moderate in
every grade. The hours for duty of the Patrolmen are divided in the
following manner: from six to eight o'clock in the morning; from eight
o'clock in the morning to one in the afternoon; from one in the afternoon
to six; from six to twelve midnight; from twelve midnight to six in the
morning. These "tours" of duty are so distributed that no one man shall
be called on duty at the same hour on two successive days. One-third of
the entire force, about 700 in all, is on duty in the daytime, and
two-thirds, about 1400 men, at night. Sickness and casualties bring down
this estimate somewhat, but the men are such fine physical specimens that
sick leaves are now comparatively rare.

Besides the Patrolmen there are several divisions of the force. Forty
men, called the Court Squad, are on duty at the various Courts of
Justice. Four have charge of the House of Detention for Witnesses, No.
203 Mulberry street. The Sanitary Squad consists of a captain, four
sergeants, and fifty-seven patrolmen. Some of these are on duty at the
ferries and steamboat landings. Others are detailed to examine the steam
boilers in use in the city. Others execute the orders of the Board of
Health. Another detachment, nine in number, look after truant children.
Others are detailed for duty at banks and other places. The Detectives
will be referred to hereafter.

[Picture: FEMALE PRISONERS IN THE FOURTH POLICE STATION]

The qualifications demanded of an applicant for admission into the force
are thus set down in the book of Regulations: "No person will be
appointed a Patrolman of the Metropolitan Police Force unless, he

"First, is able to read and write the English language understandingly.

"Second, is a citizen of the United States.

"Third, has been a resident of this State for a term of one year next
prior to his application for the office.

"Fourth, has never been convicted of a crime.

"Fifth, is at least five feet eight inches in height.

"Sixth, is less than thirty-five years of age.

"Seventh, is in good health, and of sound body and mind.

"Eighth, is of good moral character and habits.

"Applicants for the office must present to the Board of Commissioners a
petition signed by not less than five citizens of good character and
habits, and verified by the affidavit of one of them."

As none but "sound" men are wanted, the applicant is then subjected to a
rigid medical examination; and the writer is informed by one of the most
efficient surgeons of the force, that scarcely one applicant in ten can
stand this test. The applicant must also give, under oath, an exact
statement as to his parentage, nationality, education, personal condition
in every respect, business or employment, and physical condition.

The strictest discipline is maintained in the force, and offences are
rigidly reported and punished. All members are required at once to
communicate intelligence of importance to their superior officers. The
men are regularly drilled in military exercises, to fit them for dealing
efficiently with serious disturbances. The writer can testify, that
during their parade in the Spring of 1871, they presented as fine an
appearance, and executed their manoeuvres as correctly as any body of
regular troops.

The finest looking and largest men are detailed for service on Broadway.
One of their principal duties is to keep the street free from
obstructions, no slight task when one considers the usual jam in the
great thoroughfare. It is a common habit to denounce the "Broadway
Squad" as more ornamental than useful, but the habitues of that street
can testify to the arduous labor performed by the "giants," and the
amount of protection afforded by them to the merchants and promenaders.
Scarcely a day passes that they do not prevent robberies and cut short
the operations of pickpockets.

The number of arrests made by the force is fair evidence of their
efficiency. Since 1862 the annual number has been as follows:

Total arrests in New York
1862 82,072
1863 61,888
1864 54,751
1865 68,873
1866 75,630
1867 80,532
1868 78,451
1869 72,984

During the year 1869, the arrests were divided as follows:

Males 51,446
Females 21,538

The principal causes for which these arrests were made were as follows:

Males Females

Assault and Battery 5,638 1,161
Disorderly conduct 9,376 5,559
Intoxication 15,918 8,105
Intoxication and 5,232 3,466
disorderly conduct
Petty larceny 3,700 1,209
Grand larceny 1,623 499
Malicious mischief 1,081 32
Vagrancy 1,065 701

During the past nine years over 73,000 lost children have been restored
to their parents by the police. More than 40,000 houses have been found
open at night, owing to the carelessness of the inmates, who have been
warned of their danger by the police in time to prevent robbery. There
is scarcely a fire but is marked by the individual heroism of some member
of the force, and the daily papers abound in instances of rescues from
drowning by the policemen stationed along the docks. In times of riot
and other public danger, the police force have never been found lacking,
and they have fairly won the "flag of honor" which the citizens of New
York are about to present to them in recognition of their gallant and
efficient services on the 12th of July, 1871. That there are individuals
whose conduct reflects discredit upon the force is but natural; but as a
whole, there does not exist a more devoted, gallant, and efficient body
of men than those composing the police of New York.

The Station Houses of the city are so arranged as to be central to their
respective precincts. The new buildings are models of their kind, and
the old ones are being improved as rapidly as possible. Perhaps the best
arranged, the handsomest, and most convenient, is that of the Fourth
Precinct, located at No. 9 Oak street. The locality is one of the worst
in the city, and it is necessary that the police accommodations should be
perfect. The building is of red brick, with a fine white granite facade,
with massive stone steps leading from the street to the main entrance.
The entrance leads directly to the main room, or office. On the right of
the entrance is the Sergeant's desk, of black walnut, massive and
handsomely carved. Back of this is a fine book-case of the same
material, for the record books and papers of the station. The telegraph
instrument is at the side farthest from the windows--a precaution looking
to its safety in case of a riot or attack on the station.
Speaking-tubes, and boxes for papers, communicate with the other
apartments. The walls are adorned with fine photographs of the late
Superintendent Jourdan, the present Superintendent Kelso, and the Police
Commissioners. Back of the office is the Surgeon's Room, with every
convenience for the performance of the Surgeon's duties. The office of
the Captain in command of the station is to the left of the entrance, and
is fitted up with a Brussels carpet, and black walnut furniture. The
walls are covered with fine engravings and photographs of prominent men.
The Captain is also provided with a bed-room, bathroom, etc., which are
elegantly furnished. The Sergeants' bedrooms are large, airy, and well
furnished. Bathrooms for the Sergeants and Patrolmen are located in the
basement. The sleeping rooms of the Sergeants and Roundsmen, and four
large dormitories for the Patrolmen, are situated on the second and third
floors. Each Patrolman has a private closet for his clothing, etc., and
each bedstead is stamped with the occupant's section number. The fourth
story is used for store-rooms. On the first floor there is also a large
sitting-room for the Patrolmen.

Attached to the Station House, and connected with it by a bridge, is the
prison, a brick building three stories in height. It is entered through
the Patrolmen's sitting-room, and is the largest in any city station
house. It contains fifty-two cells, all of which are of a good size and
are well ventilated. Four of these (Nos. 1, 16, 17, 32) are somewhat
larger than the others, and are humorously called by the force "Bridal
chambers." They are reserved for the more respectable prisoners. Over
the prison are two large rooms designed for the unfortunates who seek a
night's shelter at the station--one for men and the other for women.
They are provided with board platforms to sleep on. These platforms can
be removed, and the whole place drenched with water from hydrants
conveniently located.

As a matter of course, this model station is in charge of one of the most
efficient, experienced, and reliable officers of the force. It is at
present commanded by Captain A. J. Allaire, whose personal and official
record fairly entitles him to the high and honorable position he holds in
the force.

The station houses are kept scrupulously clean. Neatness is required in
every department of the police service. The Inspector may enter them at
any hour, and he is almost sure to find them in perfect order.

[Picture: A WINTER NIGHT SCENE IN A POLICE STATION]

These stations afford a temporary shelter to the outdoor poor. In all of
them accommodations are provided for giving a night's lodging to the poor
wretches who seek it. When the snow lies white over the ground, or the
frosts have driven them out of the streets, these poor creatures come in
crowds to the station houses, and beg for a shelter for the night. You
may see them huddling eagerly around the stove, spreading their thin
hands to catch the warmth, or holding some half-frozen child to be thawed
by the heat, silent, submissive, and grateful, yet even half afraid that
the kind-hearted Sergeant, who tries to hide his sympathy for them by a
show of gruffness, will turn them into the freezing streets again. When
the rooms devoted to their use are all filled, others still come,
begging, ah, so piteously, to be taken in for the night. I think there
is no part of the Sergeant's duties so hard, so painful to him, as to be
forced to turn a deaf ear to these appeals. Let us thank God, however,
he does not do so often, and even at the risk of being "overhauled" for
exceeding his duty, the Sergeant finds, or makes, a place for those who
seek his assistance in this way. Many of those who seek shelter here are
constant tramps, who have nowhere else to go. Others are strangers in
the city--poor people who have come here in search of employment.
Failing to find it, and what little money they brought with them being
exhausted, they have only the alternative of the station house or the
pavement. Many who are simply unfortunate, suffer almost to perishing
before seeking the station house, mistakenly supposing that in so doing
they place themselves on a par with those who are brought there for
offences against the law. But at last the cold and the snow drive them
there, and they meet with kindness and consideration. I could not here
present a description of the quiet and practical way in which the members
of the "Force" relieve such sufferers. No record is kept of such good
deeds by the force, and the Sergeant's book is modestly silent on this
subject; but we may be sure it is written in letters of living light on
the great book that shall be opened at the last day.

The stations are connected with each other and with the headquarters by
telegraph. The telegraph system has been so perfected that by means of a
set of numbers struck on a bell, each of which refers to a corresponding
number in the book of signals, questions are asked and answered, and
messages sent from station to station with the greatest rapidity.

The Headquarters of the Police Force are located in a handsome building,
five stories high, known as No. 300 Mulberry street. The building
extends through to Mott street, in the rear. It is situated on the
easterly side of Mulberry street, between Bleecker and Houston streets.
It is ninety feet in width. The Mulberry street front is of white
marble, and the Mott street front is of pressed brick, with white marble
trimmings. It is fitted up with great taste, and every convenience and
comfort is provided for the members of the force on duty here. The
greatest order is manifest. Everything and every man has a place, and
must be in it at the proper times. There is no confusion. Each
department has its separate quarters.

The Superintendent's office is connected by telegraph with every precinct
in the city. By means of this wonderful invention, the Superintendent
can communicate instantly with any point in the city. The news of a
robbery or burglary is flashed all over New York and the adjoining
country before a man has fairly secured his plunder. If a child is lost,
all the precincts are furnished immediately with an accurate description
of it, and the whole force is on the lookout for the little wanderer, and
in a marvellously quick time it is restored to its mother's arms. By
means of his telegraph, the Superintendent can track a criminal, not only
all over the city, but all over the civilized world, and that without
leaving his office. One of the most interesting rooms in the
headquarters is that for the trial of complaints against members of the
force. Every charge must be sworn to. It is then brought before the
Commissioners, or rather before one who is appointed by the Board to hear
such complaints. He notifies the accused to appear before him to answer
to the charge. Except in very grave cases the men employ no counsel.
The charge is read, the Commissioner hears the statements of the accused,
and the evidence on both sides, and renders his decision, which must be
ratified by the full "Board." The majority of the charges are for
breaches of discipline. A Patrolman leaves his beat for a cup of coffee
on a cold morning, or night, or reads a newspaper, or smokes, or stops to
converse while on duty. The punishment for these offences is a stoppage
of pay for a day or two. First offences are usually forgiven. Many
well-meaning but officious citizens enter complaints against the men.
They are generally frivolous, but are heard patiently, and are dismissed
with a warning to the accused to avoid giving cause for complaint.
Thieves and disreputable characters sometimes enter complaints against
the men, with the hope of getting them into trouble. The Commissioner's
experience enables him to settle these cases at once, generally to the
dismay and grief of the accuser. Any real offence on the part of the men
is punished promptly and severely, but the Commissioners endeavor by
every means to protect them in the discharge of their duty, and against
impositions of any kind.

Another room in the headquarters is called "The Property Room." This is
a genuine "curiosity shop." It is filled with unclaimed property of
every description, found by, or delivered to the police, by other parties
finding the same, or taken from criminals at the time of their arrest.
The room is in charge of the Property Clerk, who enters each article, and
the facts connected with it, in a book kept for that purpose. Property
once placed in this room is not allowed to be taken away except upon
certain specified conditions. Unclaimed articles are sold, after being
kept a certain time, and the proceeds are paid to the Police Life
Insurance Fund.

The pay of a policeman is small, being only about $1200 per annum. In
order to make some compensation for this deficiency, the Police Law
contains the following provisions:

"If any member of the Municipal Police Force, whilst in the actual
performance of duty, shall become permanently disabled, so as to render
his dismissal from membership proper, or if any such member shall become
superannuated after ten years of membership, a sum of not exceeding $150,
as an annuity, to be paid such member, shall be chargeable upon the
Municipal Police Life Insurance Fund. If any member of the Municipal
Police Force, whilst in the actual discharge of his duty, shall be
killed, or shall die from the immediate effect of any injury received by
him, whilst in such discharge of duty, or shall die after ten years'
service in the force, and shall leave a widow, and if no widow, any child
or children under the age of sixteen years, a like sum by way of annuity
shall become chargeable upon the said fund, to be paid to such widow so
long only as she remains unmarried, or to such child or children so long
as said child, or the youngest of said children, continues under the age
of sixteen years. In every case the Board of Municipal Police shall
determine the circumstances thereof, and order payment of the annuity to
be made by draft, signed by each trustee of the said fund. But nothing
herein contained shall render any payment of said annuity obligatory upon
the said Board, or the said trustees, or chargeable as a matter of legal
right. The Board of Municipal Police, in its discretion, may at any time
order such annuity to cease."

VIII. THE BOWERY.

Next to Broadway, the most thoroughly characteristic street in the city
is the Bowery. Passing out of Printing House Square, through Chatham
street, one suddenly emerges from the dark, narrow lane, into a broad
square, with streets radiating from it to all parts of the city. It is
not over clean, and has an air of sharpness and repulsiveness that at
once attracts attention. This is Chatham Square, the great promenade of
the old time denizens of the Bowery, and still largely frequented by the
class generally known as "the fancy."

At the upper end of the square begins a broad, flashy-looking street,
stretching away to the northward, crowded with pedestrians, street cars,
and wheeled vehicles of all kinds. This is The Bowery. It begins at
Chatham Square, and extends as far as the Cooper Institute, on Eighth
street, where the Third and Fourth avenues--the first on the east, and
the other on the west side of the Institute--continue the thoroughfare to
the Harlem River.

The Bowery first appears in the history of New York under the following
circumstances. About the year 1642 or 1643, it was set apart by the
Dutch for the residence of superannuated slaves, who, having served the
Government faithfully from the earliest period of the settlement of the
island, were at last allowed to devote their labors to the support of
their dependent families, and were granted parcels of land embracing from
eight to twenty acres each. The Dutch were influenced by other motives
than charity in this matter. The district thus granted was well out of
the limits of New Amsterdam, and they were anxious to make this negro
settlement a sort of breakwater against the attacks of the Indians, who
were beginning to be troublesome. At this time the Bowery was covered
with a dense forest. A year or two later farms were laid out along its
extent. These were called "Boweries," from which the street derives its
present name. They were held by men of mark, in those simple and honest
days. To the north of Chatham Square lay the broad lands of the De
Lanceys, and above them the fine estates of the Dyckmans, and Brevoorts,
all on the west of the present street. On the east side lay the lands of
the Rutgers, Bayards, Minthornes, Van Cortlandts and others. Above all
these lay the "Bouwerie" and other possessions of the strong-headed and
hard-handed Governor Peter Stuyvesant, of whom many traces still exist in
the city. His house stood about where St. Mark's (Episcopal) Church is
now located. In 1660, or near about that year, a road or lane was laid
off through what are now Chatham street, Chatham Square and the Bowery,
from the Highway, as the portion of Broadway beyond the line of Wall
street was called, to Governor Stuyvesant's farm. To this was given the
distinctive name of the "Bowery lane." Some years later this lane was
continued up the island under the name of the "Boston Road." In 1783 the
Bowery again came into prominent notice. On the 25th of November of that
year, the American army, under General Washington, marched into the
Bowery early in the morning, and remained until noon, when the British
troops evacuated the city and its defences. This done, the Americans
marched down the Bowery, through Chatham and Pearl streets, to the
Battery, where they lowered the British flag which had been left flying
by the enemy, and hoisted in its place the "stars and stripes" of the new
Republic.

After the city began to extend up the island, the Bowery commenced to
lose caste. Decent people forsook it, and the poorer and more
disreputable classes took possession. Finally, it became notorious. It
was known all over the country for its roughs or "Bowery B'hoys," as they
were called, its rowdy firemen, and its doubtful women. In short, it was
the paradise of the worst element of New York. On this street the Bowery
boy was in his glory. You might see him "strutting along like a king"
with his breeches stuck in his boots, his coat on his arm, his flaming
red shirt tied at the collar with a cravat such as could be seen nowhere
else; with crape on his hat, the hat set deftly on the side of his head,
his hair evenly plastered down to his skull, and a cigar in his mouth.
If he condescended to adorn his manly breast with any ornament it was
generally a large gold or brass figure representing the number of "der
mersheen" with which he ran. None so ready as he for a fight, none so
quick to resent the intrusion of a respectable man into his haunts. So
he had money enough to procure his peculiar garb, a "mersheen" to run
with and fight for, a girl to console him, the "Old Bowery Theatre" to
beguile him from his ennui, and the Bowery itself to disport his glory
in, he was content. Rows were numerous in this quarter, and they
afforded him all the other relaxation he desired. If there be any truth
in the theories of Spiritualism, let us be sure his ghost still haunts
the Bowery.

And the Bowery girl--who shall describe her? She was a "Bowery b'hoy" in
petticoats; unlike him in this, however, that she loved the greatest
combination of bright colors, while he clung religiously to red and
black. Her bonnet was a perfect museum of ribbons and ornaments, and it
sat jauntily on the side of her head. Her skirts came to the shoe top
and displayed her pretty feet and well-turned ankle, equipped with
irreproachable gaiters and the most stunning of stockings. One arm swung
loosely to the motion of her body as she passed along with a quick, lithe
step, and the other held just over her nose her parasol, which was
sometimes swung over the right shoulder. Even the Bowery boy was
overcome by her stunning appearance, and he forgot his own glory in his
genuine admiration of his girl.

Well! they have passed away. The street cars, the new police, and the
rapid advance of trade up the island, have made great changes here, but
there are still left those who could tell many a wondrous tale of the old
time glories of the Bowery.

The street runs parallel with Broadway, is about double the width of that
thoroughfare, and is about one mile in length. It is tolerably well
built, and is improving in this respect every year. In connection with
Chatham Square it is the great route from the lower end of the island to
Harlem Bridge. Nearly all the east side street car lines touch it at
some point, and the Third avenue line traverses its entire length. It
lies within a stone's throw of Broadway, but is entirely different from
it in every respect. Were Broadway a street in another city the
difference could not be greater.

[Picture: THE BOWERY]

The Bowery is devoted mainly to the cheap trade. The children of Israel
abound here. The display of goods in the shops flashy, and not often
attractive. Few persons who have the means to buy elsewhere care to
purchase an article in the Bowery, as those familiar with it know there
are but few reliable dealers in the street. If one were to believe the
assertions of the Bowery merchants as set forth in their posters and hand
bills, with which they cover the fronts of their shops, they are always
on the verge of ruin, and are constantly throwing their goods away for
the benefit of their customers. They always sell at a "ruinous
sacrifice;" yet snug fortunes are realized here, and many a Fifth avenue
family can look back to days passed in the dingy back room of a Bowery
shop, while papa "sacrificed" his wares in front. Sharp practice rules
in the Bowery, and if beating an unwilling customer into buying what he
does not want is the highest art of the merchant, then there are no such
salesmen in the great city as those of this street. Strangers from the
country, servant girls, and those who, for the want of means, are forced
to put up with an inferior article, trade here. As a general rule, the
goods sold here are of an inferior, and often worthless quality, and the
prices asked are high, though seemingly cheap.

Pawnbrokers' shops, "Cheap Johns," third-class hotels, dance houses,
fifth-rate lodging houses, low class theatres, and concert saloons,
abound in the lower part of the street.

The Sunday law is a dead letter in the Bowery. Here, on the Sabbath, one
may see shops of all kinds--the vilest especially--open for trade. Cheap
clothing stores, concert saloons, and the most infamous dens of vice are
in full blast. The street, and the cars traversing it, are thronged with
the lower classes in search of what they call enjoyment. At night all
the places of amusement are open, and are crowded to excess. Roughs,
thieves, fallen women, and even little children throng them. Indeed it
is sad to see how many children are to be found in these places. The
price of admission is low, and strange as it may sound, almost any beggar
can raise it. People have no idea how much of the charity they lavish on
street beggars goes in this way. The amusement afforded at these places
ranges from indelicate hints and allusions to the grossest indecency.

Along the line of almost the entire street are shooting galleries, some
of which open immediately upon the street. They are decorated in the
most fanciful style, and the targets represent nearly every variety of
man and beast. Here is a lion, who, if hit in the proper place, will
utter a truly royal roar. Here is a trumpeter. Strike his heart with
your shot, and he will raise his trumpet to his lips and send forth a
blast sufficient to wake every Bowery baby in existence. "Only five
cents a shot," cries the proprietor to the surrounding crowd of barefoot,
penniless boys, and half-grown lads, "and a knife to be given to the man
that hits the bull's eye." Many a penny do these urchins spend here in
the vain hope of winning the knife, and many are the seeds of evil sown
among them by these "chances." In another gallery the proprietor offers
twenty dollars to any one who will hit a certain bull's eye three times
in succession. Here men contend for the prize, and as a rule the
proprietor wins all the money in their pockets before the mark is struck
as required.

The carnival of the Bowery is held on Saturday night. The down-town
stores, the factories, and other business places close about five
o'clock, and the street is thronged at an early hour. Crowds are going
to market, but the majority are bent on pleasure. As soon as the
darkness falls over the city the street blazes with light. Away up
towards Prince street you may see the flashy sign of Tony Pastor's Opera
House, while from below Canal street the Old Bowery Theatre stands white
and glittering in the glare of gas and transparencies. Just over the way
are the lights of the great German Stadt Theatre. The Atlantic Garden
stands by the side of the older theatre, rivalling it in brilliancy and
attractiveness. Scores of restaurants, with tempting bills of fare and
prices astonishingly low, greet you at every step. "_Lager Bier_," and
"_Grosses Concert_; _Eintritt frei_," are the signs which adorn nearly
every other house. The lamps of the street venders dot the side-walk at
intervals, and the many colored lights of the street cars stretch away as
far as the eye can reach. The scene is as interesting and as brilliant
as that to be witnessed in Broadway at the same hour; but very different.

As different as the scene, is the crowd thronging this street from that
which is rushing along Broadway. Like that, it represents all
nationalities, but it is a crowd peculiar to the Bowery. The "rich Irish
brogue" is well represented, it is true; but the "sweet German accent"
predominates. The Germans are everywhere here. The street signs are
more than one-half in German, and one might step fresh from the
Fatherland into the Bowery and never know the difference, so far as the
prevailing language is concerned. Every tongue is spoken here. You see
the piratical looking Spaniard and Portuguese, the gypsy-like Italian,
the chattering Frenchman with an irresistible smack of the Commune about
him, the brutish looking Mexican, the sad and silent "Heathen Chinee,"
men from all quarters of the globe, nearly all retaining their native
manner and habits, all very little Americanized. They are all "of the
people." There is no aristocracy in the Bowery. The Latin Quarter
itself is not more free from restraint.

Among the many signs which line the street the word "_Exchange_" is to be
seen very often. The "Exchanges" are the lowest class lottery offices,
and they are doing a good business to-night, as you may see by the number
of people passing in and out. The working people have just been paid
off, and many of them are here now to squander their earnings in the
swindles of the rascals who preside over the "Exchanges." These deluded
creatures represent but a small part of the working class however. The
Savings Banks are open to-night, many of them the best and most
respectable buildings on the Bowery, and thousands of dollars in very
small sums are left here for safe keeping.

Many of the Bowery people, alas, have no money for either the banks or
the lottery offices. You may see them coming and going if you will stand
by one of the many doors adorned with the three gilt balls. The
pawnbrokers are reaping a fine harvest to-night. The windows of these
shops are full of unredeemed pledges, and are a sad commentary on the
hope of the poor creature who feels so sure she will soon be able to
redeem the treasure she has just pawned for a mere pittance.

Down in the cellars the Concert Saloons are in full blast, and the hot
foul air comes rushing up the narrow openings as you pass them, laden
with the sound of the fearful revelry that is going on below.
Occasionally a dog fight, or a struggle between some half drunken men,
draws a crowd on the street and brings the police to the spot. At other
times there is a rush of human beings and a wild cry of "stop thief," and
the throng sweeps rapidly down the side-walk overturning street stands,
and knocking the unwary passer-by off his feet, in its mad chase after
some unseen thief. Beggars line the side-walk, many of them professing
the most hopeless blindness, but with eyes keen enough to tell the
difference between the coins tossed into their hats. The "Bowery Bands,"
as the little street musicians are called, are out in force, and you can
hear their discordant strains every few squares.

Until long after midnight the scene is the same, and even all through the
night the street preserves its air of unrest. Some hopeful vender of
Lager Beer is almost always to be found at his post, seek him at what
hour you will; and the cheap lodging houses and hotels seem never to
close.

Respectable people avoid the Bowery as far as possible at night. Every
species of crime and vice is abroad at this time watching for its
victims. Those who do not wish to fall into trouble should keep out of
the way.

IX. PUBLIC SQUARES.

I. THE BATTERY.

The lowest and one of the largest of the pleasure grounds of the city, is
the park lying at the extreme end of the island, at the junction of the
Hudson and East rivers, and known as the Battery. At the first
settlement of the Dutch, the fort, for the protection of the little
colony, was built at some distance from the extreme edge of the island,
which was then rocky and swampy, but near enough to it to sweep the point
with a raking fire. This fort occupied the site of the present Bowling
Green. In 1658 Governor Stuyvesant erected a fine mansion, afterwards
known as "The Whitehall," in the street now called by that name, but
"Capsey Rocks," as the southern point of the island was called, remained
unoccupied. In 1693, the Kingdom of Great Britain being at war with
France, the Governor ordered the erection of a battery "on the point of
rocks under the fort," and after considerable trouble, succeeded in
obtaining from the Common Council, who were very reluctant to pay out the
public money for any purpose not specified in the charter--a virtue which
seems to have died with them--the sum necessary for that purpose. In
1734 a bill was passed by the General Assembly of the Province, ordering
the erection of a battery on Capsey Rocks, and forbidding the erection of
houses which would interfere with the fire of its guns, "on the river, or
on parts which overflow with water, between the west part of the Battery,
or Capsey Rocks, to Ells Corner on the Hudson River," (the present
Marketfield street).

During the years preceding the Revolution, and throughout that struggle,
the Battery was used exclusively for military purposes. About the year
1792 measures were taken for filling up, enclosing, and ornamenting the
place as a public park, to which use it has since been devoted.

During the first half of the present century the Battery was the favorite
park of the New Yorkers, and was indeed the handsomest. The march of
trade, however, proved too much for it. The fashion and respectability
of the city which had clustered near it were driven up town. Castle
Garden, which had been a favorite Opera House, was converted into an
emigrant depot, and the Battery was left to the emigrants and to the
bummers. Dirt was carted and dumped here by the load, all sorts of trash
was thrown here, and loafers and drunken wretches laid themselves out on
the benches and on the grass to sleep in the sun, when the weather was
mild enough. It became a plague spot, retaining as the only vestige of
its former beauty, its grand old trees, which were once the pride of the
city.

In 1869, however, the spot was redeemed. The sea-wall which the General
Government had been building for the protection of the land was finished,
and the Battery was extended out to meet it. The old rookeries and
street-stands that had clustered about Castle Garden were removed, the
rubbish which had accumulated here was carted away, and the Battery was
again transformed into one of the handsomest of the city parks.

It now covers an area of about twelve acres, and is tastefully and
regularly laid off. Broad stone paved walks traverse it in various
directions, and the shrubbery and flowers are arranged with the best
possible effect. A tall flag-staff rises from the centre of the park,
and close by is a stand from which the city band give their concerts at
stated times in the summer. A massive stone wall protects the harbor
side from the washing of the waves, and at certain points granite stairs
lead to the water.

The view from the Battery embraces a part of Brooklyn and the East River,
Governor's and Staten islands, the Inner Bay, the Jersey shore, North
River and Jersey City. The eye ranges clear down to the Narrows, and
almost out to sea, and commands a view which cannot be surpassed in
beauty. Here the sea breeze is always pure and fresh, here one may come
for a few moments' rest from the turmoil of the great city, and delight
himself with the lovely picture spread out before him.

II. THE BOWLING GREEN.

At the lower end of Broadway there is a small circular public square,
enclosed with an iron railing, and ornamented with a fountain in the
centre. This is known as the Bowling Green, and is the first public park
ever laid out in the city.

The first fort built by the Dutch on Manhattan island covered a good part
of the site of this square. In 1733 the Common Council passed a
resolution ordering that "the piece of land lying at the lower end of
Broadway fronting the fort, be leased to some of the inhabitants of
Broadway, in order to be inclosed to make a Bowling Green, with walks
therein, for the beauty and ornament of the said street, as well as for
the recreation and delight of the inhabitants of this city, leaving the
street on each side fifty feet wide." In October, 1734, the Bowling
Green was leased to Frederick Philipse, John Chambers, and John
Roosevelt, a trio of public spirited gentlemen, for ten years, for a
Bowling Green only, and they agreed to keep it in repair at their own
expense. In 1741 a fire swept away the fort, and afforded a chance of
improving the park, which was done. A change for the better was brought
about in the neighborhood by the establishment of the grounds, and
substantial houses began to cluster about it.

A few years before the Revolution, the Colonial Assembly purchased in
England a leaden statue of King George the Third, and set it up in the
centre of the Bowling Green, in May 1771. The grounds at this time had
no fence around them, as we learn from a resolution of the Common
Council, and were made the receptacle of filth and dirt, thrown there,
doubtless, by the patriots as an insult to the royalists. As the
troubles thickened, the people became more hostile to the statue of King
George, and heaped many indignities upon it, and after the breaking out
of the war, the unlucky monarch was taken down and run into bullets for
the guns of the Continental army.

After the close of the Revolution, Chancellor Livingston enclosed the
grounds with the iron fence which still surrounds them, and subsequently
a fountain was erected on the site of the statue.

III. THE PARK.

"THE PARK" is the title given by New Yorkers to the enclosure containing
the City Hall and County Buildings. It originally embraced an area of
eleven acres, but within the past year and a half the lower end has been
ceded to the General Government by the city, and upon this portion the
Federal authorities are erecting a magnificent edifice to be used as a
City Post Office. This building covers the extreme southern end of the
old Park, and the northern portion is occupied by the City Hall, the new
County Court-House and the Department of Finance of the city and county.

In the days of the Dutch in New Amsterdam, the site of the Park, which
was far outside the village limits, was set apart as a common, and was
known as the "Vlachte," or "Flat," and subsequently as the "Second
Plains," "Commons," and "Fields." It was the common grazing ground of
the Knickerbocker cows, and was by universal consent made public
property--the first ever owned by the city. It is believed that previous
to this it was the site of the village of the Manhattan Indians, a belief
which is strengthened by the frequent finding of Indian relics in digging
up the soil on this spot. It was connected with the Dutch village by a
road which ran through a beautiful valley now known as Maiden lane.

[Picture: THE CITY HALL PARK]

Every morning the village cowherd, who was a most important personage,
would walk the streets of New Amsterdam and sound his horn at each
burgher's door. The cows were immediately turned out to him, and when he
had collected his herd he would drive them by the pretty valley road to
the commons, and there by his vigilance prevent them from straying into
the unsettled part beyond. At a later period the mighty Dutch warriors
whose prowess the immortal Deiderich Knickerbocker has celebrated, made
the commons their training ground, and here was also marshalled the force
which wrested the city from the Dutch. Under the English it became a
place of popular resort, and was used for public celebrations, the town
having reached the lower limit of the commons. Here were celebrated his
Majesty's birth-day, the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, and other
loyal holidays, and here were held the tumultuous assemblies, the
meetings of the Liberty Boys, and other demonstrations which preceded the
Revolution.

In 1736 the first building, a Poor-House, was erected on the site of the
present City Hall. In 1747 a powder-house was erected by the city within
the limit of the commons, near the site of the present City Hall. The
gallows stood on the site of the new Post-office, and in 1756 was removed
to the vicinity of the present Five Points. In 1757 the new jail, more
recently known as the Hall of Records, was erected. In the same year,
the old French war being in progress, wooden barracks were erected along
the Chambers street front of the Park.

In 1757 a part of the site of the City Hall was laid out as a burying
ground for the inmates of the Alms-House. In 1764 a whipping-post,
stocks, cage, and pillory were erected in front of the new jail. In 1755
a Bridewell was built on that portion lying between the City Hall and
Broadway. After the Revolution, in 1785, the Park was first enclosed in
its present form, by a post-and-rail fence, and a few years later this
was replaced by wooden palings, and Broadway along the Park began to be
noted as a fashionable place of residence. In 1816, the wooden fence
gave way to an iron railing, which was set with due ceremonies by the
city authorities. In 1795 a new Alms-House was built along the Chambers
street front, but in 1812, Bellevue Hospital having been finished, the
paupers were transferred thither, and the old building was refitted as a
Museum. In 1802 the corner-stone of the present City Hall was laid. The
building was finished in 1810. Some years later the old buildings were
removed or converted into offices for the city and county officials.

In 1870, the southern portion having been ceded to the Federal Government
for the erection of a new Post-office thereon, the Park was laid out on a
new plan, and handsomely adorned with walks, shrubbery, fountains, etc.
It is now an ornament to the city.

IV. OTHER PARKS.

WASHINGTON SQUARE is located between Fourth and Seventh streets, at the
lower end of Fifth avenue. The site was originally a Potter's Field, and
it is said that over one hundred thousand persons were buried here in
days gone by. The square contains a little over nine acres, and is
handsomely laid out, and adorned with a fountain, around which passes the
main carriage drive, flowers, shrubbery, etc. The trees are among the
finest in the city, and are kept with great care. An iron railing
formerly surrounded the grounds, but in 1870-71 this was removed, and
Fifth avenue was extended through the square to Laurens street. This
street was widened and called South Fifth avenue, thus practically
extending the avenue to West Broadway at Canal street. The square is
surrounded by handsome residences. On the east side are the University
of New York and a Lutheran Church.

TOMPKINS SQUARE is one of the largest in the city, and is laid off
without ornament, being designed for a drill ground for the police and
military. It occupies the area formed by avenues A and B, and Seventh
and Tenth streets.

UNION SQUARE, lying between Broadway and Fourth avenue, and Fourteenth
and Seventeenth streets, was originally a portion of the estate of Elias
Brevoort. In 1762 he sold twenty acres lying west of the "Bowery Road"
to John Smith, whose executors sold it to Henry Spingler for the sum of
950 pounds, or about $4750. The original farm-house is believed to have
stood within the limits of the present Union Square. About the year 1807
Broadway was laid off to the vicinity of Twenty-second street, and in
1815 Union Square was made a "public place," and in 1832 it was laid off
as it now exists. The square is regular in shape, and the central
portion is laid off as a park, and ornamented with shrubbery, flowers,
walks, and a fountain. It is one of the prettiest parks in the city, and
covers an area of several acres. It is oval in form, and is without an
enclosure.

[Picture: THE WASHINGTON STATUE IN UNION SQUARE.]

Near the fountain is a thriving colony of English sparrows, imported and
cared for by the city for the purpose of protecting the trees from the
ravages of worms, etc. The birds have a regular village of quaint little
houses built for them in the trees. They frequent all the parks of the
city, but seem to regard this one as their headquarters. Some of the
houses are quite extensive and are labelled with curious little signs,
such as the following: "Sparrows' Chinese Pagoda," "Sparrows' Doctor
Shop," "Sparrows' Restaurant," "Sparrows' Station House," etc. At the
southeast angle of the square stands Hablot K. Browne's equestrian statue
of Washington, a fine work in bronze, and at the southwest angle is his
statue of Lincoln, of the same metal. The houses surrounding the square
are large and handsome. They were once the most elegant residences in
New York, but are now, with a few exceptions, used for business. Several
hotels, the principal of which are the Everett and Spingler Houses, front
on the Square. On the south side, east of Broadway, is the Union Square
Theatre, and on the west side, at the corner of Fifteenth street,
Tiffany's magnificent iron building. In a few years the square will
doubtless be entirely surrounded with similar structures. It is here
that the monster mass meetings are held.

STUYVESANT SQUARE lies to the east of Union Square, and is bisected by
the line of the Second avenue. Its upper and lower boundaries are
Fifteenth and Seventeenth streets. It consists of two beautiful parks of
equal size, surrounded by a handsome iron railing, and filled with choice
flowers and shrubbery. In the centre of each is a fountain. These parks
are the property of St. George's Church (Episcopal), which stands on the
west side of the square at the corner, and were given to the corporation
of that church by the late Peter G. Stuyvesant, Esq.

GRAMMERCY PARK lies midway between the Fourth and Third avenues, and
separates Lexington avenue on the north from Irving Place, really a part
of the same avenue, on the south. Its northern and southern boundaries
are Twentieth and Twenty-first streets. It is tastefully laid out, is
enclosed with an iron fence, and is kept locked against the public, as it
is the private property of the persons living around it. On the east
side the entire block is taken up by the Grammercy Park Hotel--a
first-class boarding house--the other three sides are occupied by the
residences of some of the wealthiest capitalists in America. Here dwell
Peter Cooper, Moses Taylor, Cyrus W. Field, James Harper (of Harper &
Bros.), and others equally well known in the financial world.

MADISON SQUARE comprises about ten acres, and lies at the junction of
Broadway and the Fifth avenue. The latter street bounds it on the west,
Madison avenue on the east, Twenty-third street on the south, and
Twenty-sixth street on the north. It is nearly square in form, and is
beautifully laid off. It has no fence, and this adds to the appearance
of space which the neighboring open area gives to it. The Fifth Avenue
Hotel, the Hoffman, Albemarle, and Worth Houses face it on the west, the
Hotel Brunswick is on the north side, and the Union League Club House and
a handsome Presbyterian Church are on the east side along the line of
Madison avenue. The land now included in Madison Square was owned by the
city from a very early period, and was used as a Potter's Field. In 1806
it was ceded to the United States for the erection of an Arsenal, for
which purpose it was occupied for several years. In 1824 the "Society
for the Reformation of Juvenile Delinquents" obtained possession of the
Arsenal grounds, on which they erected a House of Refuge, which was
opened January 1st, 1825. This establishment consisted of two large
stone buildings, and the grounds were enclosed with a stone wall
seventeen feet high. In 1838 the House of Refuge was destroyed by fire,
and a few years later Madison Square was laid out. It is now one of the
most fashionable localities in the city, and the favorite promenade of
the up-town people, who are drawn here in great numbers by the summer
afternoon concerts of the Central Park Band.

RESERVOIR SQUARE occupies the site of the old Crystal Palace, and lies
between Sixth avenue and the Croton Reservoir on Fifth avenue, and
Fortieth and Forty-second streets. It has recently undergone great
changes. It is a very pretty park, and is much frequented by the nurses
and children of the adjacent neighborhoods.

X. THE FIFTH AVENUE.

The Fifth avenue, commencing at Washington Square, or Seventh street, and
extending to the Harlem River, is said by the residents of New York to be
the finest street in the world. It is about six miles in length, and is
built up continuously from Washington Square to the Central Park, a
distance of nearly three miles. From Fifty-ninth street to the upper end
of the Central Park, One-hundred-and-tenth street, it is laid with the
Nicholson or wooden pavement. It is being rapidly built up along its
eastern side, the Park bounding the opposite side of the street, and this
portion bids fair to be one of the most delightful and desirable
neighborhoods in the city. In the vicinity of One-hundred-and-eighteenth
street, the line of the avenue is broken by Mount Morris, an abrupt rocky
height, which has been laid off as a pleasure ground. Around this the
street sweeps in a half circle, and from here to the Harlem River,
One-hundred-and-thirty-fifth street, it is lined with pretty villas, and
paved with asphaltum.

From Madison Square to its lower end, the avenue is rapidly giving way to
business, and its palatial residences are being converted into equally
fine stores. Hotels and fashionable boarding-houses are thick in this
quarter. Above Madison Square the street is devoted to private
residences, and this part is _par excellence_ "The Avenue."

[Picture: FIFTH AVENUE, NEAR TWENTY-FIRST STREET.]

The principal buildings, apart from the residences, are the Brevoort
House, at the corner of Clinton Place, an ultra fashionable hostelrie.
On the opposite side of the street, at the northwest corner of Tenth
street, is the handsome brown stone Episcopal Church of the Ascension,
and on the southwest corner of Eleventh street is the equally handsome
First Presbyterian Church, constructed of the same material. At the
northeast corner of Fourteenth street is Delmonico's famous restaurant,
fronting on both streets; and diagonally opposite, on the southwest
corner of Fifteenth street, the magnificent house of the Manhattan Club.
Not far from Delmonico's, and on the same side, is a brick mansion,
adorned with a sign bearing a coat of arms, and the announcement that the
ground floor is occupied by the eighth wonder of the world, "A Happy
Tailor." At the southeast corner of Nineteenth street is the Fifth
Avenue Presbyterian Church, in charge of the eloquent Dr. John Hall. Two
blocks above, on the southwest corner of Twenty-first street, is the
South Dutch Reformed Church, a handsome brown stone edifice, and
diagonally opposite is the Glenham House. At the southwest corner of
Twenty-second street, is the famous art gallery of Gonpil & Co., and
immediately opposite the St. Germains Hotel. At Twenty-third street,
Broadway crosses the avenue obliquely from northwest to southeast. On
the left hand, going north, is the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and on the left
Madison Square. The open space is very broad here, and is always
thronged with a busy, lively crowd. At the northeast corner of
Twenty-sixth street is the Hotel Brunswick, and on the southwest corner
of Twenty-seventh street the Stevens House, both monster buildings rented
in flats to families of wealth. At the northwest corner of Twenty-ninth
street, is a handsome church of white granite, belonging to the Dutch
Reformed faith, and familiarly known as the "Church of the Holy Rooster,"
from the large gilt cock on the spire. At the northwest corner of
Thirty-fourth street is the new marble residence of Mr. A. T. Stewart,
the most magnificent dwelling house in the land. Immediately opposite is
a fine brown stone mansion, occupied at present by Mr. Stewart. On the
southeast corner of Thirty-fifth street, is Christ Church (Episcopal),
and on the northwest corner of Thirty-seventh street the Brick Church
(Presbyterian), of which Dr. Gardiner Spring is the pastor. At Fortieth
street, and extending to Forty-second, the west side of the avenue is
taken up with the old distributing reservoir, a massive structure of
stone, and immediately opposite is the Rutgers Female College. At the
southeast corner of Forty-third street is the city residence of the
notorious Boss Tweed, and at the northeast corner of the same street, the
splendid Jewish synagogue known as the Temple E-manu-el. At the
southwest corner of Forty-fifth street is the Church of the Divine
Paternity (Universalist), of which Dr. Chapin is the pastor, and on the
opposite side of the street in the block above, the Church of the
Heavenly Rest (Episcopal). At the northwest corner of Forty-eighth
street is the massive but unfinished structure of the Collegiate Dutch
Reformed Church. On the east side of the avenue, and occupying the block
between Fiftieth and Fifty-first streets, is the new St. Patrick's
Cathedral, unfinished, but destined to be the most elaborate church
edifice in America. The block above the Cathedral is occupied by the
Male Orphan Asylum of the same church, next door to which is the mansion
of Madame Restelle, one of the most noted abortionists of New York. On
the northwest corner of Fifty-third street is the new St. Thomas' Church
(Episcopal), a fine edifice, and owned by one of the wealthiest
congregations in the city. Between Fifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth streets,
and on the same side of the street, is St. Luke's Hospital, with its
pretty grounds. On the east side, between Fifty-eighth and Fifty-ninth
streets, and now in course of erection, will be located the Central Park
Hotel, which is to be one of the most imposing structures in New York;
and just opposite is the main entrance to the Central Park.

From Seventh to Fifty-ninth streets, the avenue presents a continuous
line of magnificent mansions. There are a few marble, yellow stone, and
brick buildings, but the prevailing material is brown stone. The general
appearance of the street is magnificent, but sombre, owing to the dark
color of the stone. Nearly all the houses are built on the same design,
which gives to it an air of sameness and tameness that is not pleasing.
But it is a magnificent street, nevertheless, and has not its equal in
the great and unbroken extent of its splendor in the world. It is a
street of palaces. Madison and Park avenues, and portions of Lexington
avenue, are nearly as handsome, as are the cross streets connecting them
with the Fifth avenue, and many of the streets leading to the Sixth
avenue are similarly built. The great defect of the avenue is the
poverty of resource in the designs of the buildings, but this is the only
species of poverty present here.

If the houses are palatial without, they are even more so within. Some
of them are models of elegance and taste; others are miracles of flashy
and reckless adornment. The walls and ceilings are covered with
exquisite frescoes. The floors are rich in the finest and thickest of
carpets, on whose luxurious pile no footfall ever sounds. The light of
the sun comes struggling in through the richest of curtains, and at night
the brilliancy of the gas is softened by the warmest tinted porcelain
shades, or heightened by the dazzling reflection of crystal chandeliers.
The drawing rooms are filled with the costliest and the richest furniture
which is the perfection of comfort, and with works of art worth a fortune
in themselves. Back of these, or across the hall, through the half
opened doors, you see the sumptuously furnished library, with its long
rows of daintily bound books in their rosewood shelves. The library is a
"feature" in most houses of the very wealthy, and in the majority of
instances is more for ornament than for use. In the rear of all is the
conservatory with its wealth of flowers and rare plants, which send their
odors through the rooms beyond. The upper and lower stories are
furnished on a corresponding scale of magnificence. Everything that
money can procure for the comfort or luxury of the inmates is at hand.
Nor are such residences few in number. They may be counted by the
hundred, each with its contents worth a large fortune. The style of
living is in keeping with the house, and, as a matter of course, only the
very wealthy can afford such homes.

As for the occupants, they represent all classes--the good and the bad,
the cultivated and the illiterate, the refined and the vulgar, the
well-born and those who have risen from the gutters. If shoddy finds a
home here, genuine merit is his neighbor. Those who have large and
assured incomes can afford such a style of life; but they do not comprise
all the dwellers on the Avenue. Many are here who have strained every
nerve to "get into the Avenue," and who would sell body and soul to stay
there, yet who feel that the crash is coming before which they must give
way. Others there are who would give half their possessions to move in
the society in which their neighbors live. They reside on the Avenue,
but they are ignored by one class of its occupants, because of their lack
of refinement and cultivation, and by another because of their
inferiority in wealth. Great wealth covers a multitude of defects in the
Avenue.

Perhaps the most restless, care-worn faces in the city are to be seen on
this street. Women clad in the richest attire pass you with unquiet face
and wistful eyes, and men who are envied by their fellows for their "good
luck," startle you by the stern, hard set look their features wear. The
first find little real happiness in the riches they have sold themselves
for, and the latter find that the costly pleasures they courted have been
gained at too dear a price.

[Picture: THE NEW RESIDENCE OF A. T. STEWART, ESQ.]

Families are small in the Avenue, and Madame Restelle boasts, that her
wealth has been earned in a large degree by keeping them so. Fashion has
its requirements, and before them maternity must give way. Your
fashionable lady has no time to give to children, but pets lap-dogs and
parrots.

Well, the Avenue mansions have their skeletons, as well as the east side
tenement houses. The sin of the fashionable lady is covered up, however,
and the poor girl must face the world. That is the difference. Madame
married her husband for his money, and her love is given to one who has
no right to claim it; and what between her loathing for her liege lord
and her dread of detection, she leads a life not to be envied in spite of
the luxury which surrounds her. The liege lord in his turn, never
suspecting his wife, but disheartened by her coldness to him, seeks his
"affinity" elsewhere; and, by and by, the divorce court tells some
unpleasant truths about the Avenue.

Contemplating these things, I have thought that the most wretched quarter
of the city hardly holds more unhappy hearts than dwell along the three
miles of this grand street; and I have thanked God that the Avenue does
not fairly represent the better and higher phases of social and domestic
life in the great city.

XI. STREET TRAVEL.

I. THE STREET CARS.

The peculiar shape of the island of Manhattan allows the city to grow in
one direction only. The pressure of business is steadily bringing the
mercantile district higher up the island, and compelling the residence
sections to go farther to the northward. Persons in passing from their
homes to their business go down town in the morning, and in returning
come up town in the evening. Those who live in the better quarters of
the city, or in the upper portion of the island, cannot think of walking
between their homes and their business. To say nothing of the loss of
time they would incur, the fatigue of such a walk would unfit nine out of
ten for the duties of the day. In consequence of this, street railways
and omnibuses are more necessary, and better patronized in New York than
in any city in the Union.

The street cars are the most popular, as they constitute the quickest and
most direct means of reaching the most of the city localities. There are
about twenty-two lines in operation within the city limits. The majority
of these run from north to south, and a few pass "across town" and
connect points on the North and East Rivers. A number centre in Park Row
at the new Post-office, and at the Astor House. The fare is usually five
cents below Sixty-fifth street, and from six to eight cents to points
above that street.

The Street Railway Companies are close corporations. Their stock is very
rarely in the market, and when it is offered at all sells readily at high
prices. The actual dividends of these companies are large, often
reaching as high as thirty-five per cent. This, however, is carefully
concealed from the public, and the companies unite in declaring that the
expenses of operating their roads are too heavy to admit of even a
moderate profit. This they do, no doubt, to excuse in some degree the
meanness with which they conduct their enterprises; for it is a striking
fact that the heavier such a company's business grows, and the more its
profits increase, the more parsimonious it becomes towards its employees
and the public.

There is not a line in the city that has a sufficient number of cars to
accommodate its patrons. More than one-half of those who ride on the
cars are obliged to stand during their journey. As a rule, the cars are
dirty and filled with vermin. The conductors and drivers are often
appointed for political reasons alone, and are simply brutal ruffians.
They treat the passengers with insolence, and often with brutality.

One meets all sorts of people on the street cars, and sometimes the
contact is closer than is agreeable, and keeps sensitive people in
constant dread of an attack of the itch or some kindred disease. Crowded
cars are much frequented by pick-pockets, who are said to be frequently
in league with the conductors, and many valuable articles and much money
are annually stolen by the light-fingered in these vehicles.

[Picture: NEW PALACE-CAR IN USE ON THE THIRD AVENUE LINE.]

If the drivers and conductors are often deserving of censure, they have
their grievances also. Their employers are merciless in their treatment
of them. They lead a hard life, working about fifteen hours out of every
twenty-four, with no holidays. The conductors receive from $2.00 to
$2.50 per day, and the drivers from $2.25 to $2.75. In order to make up
the deficiency between their actual wages and their necessities, the
conductors and drivers have fallen into the habit of appropriating a part
of the money received from passengers to their own use. Many of them are
very expert at this, but some are detected, discharged from the service
of the company, and handed over to the police. The companies of course
endeavor to put a stop to such practices, but thus far have not been
successful, and plead as their excuse for the low wages they give, that
this system of stealing prevents them from giving higher pay. Spies, or
"spotters," as the conductors term them, are kept constantly travelling
over the roads to watch the employees. They note the number of
passengers carried during the trip, and when the conductors' reports are
handed in, examine them and point out such inaccuracies as may exist.
They soon become known to the men. They are cordially hated, and
sometimes fare badly at the hands of those whose evil doings they have
exposed. This practice of "knocking down," or appropriating money,
begins with the conductor, as he alone receives the money paid for fares.
Those interested in it defend it on various grounds. The President of
the Third Avenue Railway Company, the principal horse-car line in the
city, once said to a reporter for a morning paper:

"We try and get all honest men. We discharge a man immediately if he is
found to be dishonest. You see, conductors are sometimes made more
dishonest by the drivers, who demand so much a day from them. You have
no idea how much a driver can worry a conductor if he wants to. For
instance, he can drive a little past the corner every time when he ought
to stop. He can be looking the other way when the conductor sees a
passenger coming. He can run too fast, or let the car behind beat his,
and so on, annoying the conductor continually. The only way the
conductor can keep friends with him is to divide every night. . . . The
conductors 'knock down' on an average about thirty-five or fifty cents
per day. . . . I don't think the practice can be entirely stopped. We
try all we can. Some will do it, and others think they have the same
right. We can't stop it, but discharge a man mighty quick if he is
detected." The Third Avenue line runs 200 cars, so that the loss of the
company by the "knock-down" system is from $70 to $100 per day, or from
$25,500 to $36,500 per annum.

A conductor gave his explanation of the system as follows:

"Well, I'll tell ye. When a conductor is put on a road he has to wait
his turn before getting a car; it may be a month or six weeks before he
is regularly on. He'll have to know the ropes or he'll be shelved before
he knows it. He'll have to be a thief from the start or leave the road.
His pay is $2 to $2.25 per day. Out of that sum he must pay the driver
from $1 to $2 a day; the starter he has to conciliate in various ways. A
lump of stamps is better than drinks and cigars, though drinks and cigars
have a good deal of influence on the roads; and then the 'spotter' has to
get $5 every week."

"Why do the conductors allow themselves to be imposed on in this way?"

"Why? Because they can't help it. If they don't pay the driver, the
driver will not stop for passengers, and the conductor is short in his
returns; if they don't have a 'deal' with the starter, the starter will
fix him somehow. You see the driver can stop behind time, or go beyond
it if he likes. The latest car in the street, you understand, gets the
most passengers. So it is that the drivers who are feed by the
conductors stay from two to five minutes behind time, to the
inconvenience of passengers, but to the profit of the driver, the
conductor, the starter, the spotter, and for all I know, the
superintendent and president of the company. It is a fine system from
beginning to end. The amount of drink disposed of by some of the fellows
in authority is perfectly amazing. I know a starter to boast of taking
fifteen cocktails (with any number of lagers between drinks) in a day,
and all paid for by the 'road;' for, of course, the conductors saved
themselves from loss. Oh, yes, you bet they did! The conductor's actual
expenses a day average $5; his pay is $2.25, which leaves a fine tail-end
margin of profit. How the expenses are incurred I have told you. What
ken a man do? Honesty? No man can be honest and remain a conductor.
Conductors must help themselves, an' they do! Why, even the driver who
profits by the conductor's operations, has to fee the stablemen, else how
could he get good horses? Stablemen get from $1 to $2 per week from each
driver."

"Then the system of horse railroad management is entirely corrupt?"

"You bet. 'Knocking down' is a fine art, as they say: but it is not
confined to the conductors. The worst thing about the car business
though, and what disgusted me while I was in it, was the thieves."

"The thieves?"

"Ay, the thieves. The pick-pockets, a lot of roughs get on your car,
refuse to pay their fares, insult ladies, and rob right and left. If you
object you are likely to get knocked on the head; if you are armed and
show fight you are attacked in another way. The thieves are (or rather
they were until lately) influential politicians, and tell you to your
face that they'll have you dismissed. Ten to one they do what they say.
I tell ye a man ought to have leave to knock down lively to stand all
this."

II. THE STAGES.

The stages of New York are a feature of the great city, which must be
seen to be appreciated. They are the best to be found on this continent,
but are far inferior to the elegant vehicles for the same purpose which
are to be seen in London and Paris. The stages of New York are stiff,
awkward looking affairs, very difficult to enter or leave, a fact which
is sometimes attended with considerable danger on the part of ladies. To
ride in one is to incur considerable fatigue, for they are as rough as an
old-fashioned country wagon. Unlike the European omnibuses, they have no
seats on top, but an adventurous passenger may, if he chooses, clamber up
over the side and seat himself by the Jehu in charge. From this lofty
perch he can enjoy the best view of the streets along the route of the
vehicle, and if the driver be inclined to loquacity, he may hear many a
curious tale to repay him for his extra exertion.

The stages, however, as inconvenient as they are, constitute the favorite
mode of conveyance for the better class of New Yorkers. The fare on
these lines is ten cents, and is sufficiently high to exclude from them
the rougher and dirtier portion of the community, and one meets with more
courtesy and good breeding here than in the street cars. They are
cleaner than the cars, and ladies are less liable to annoyance in them.
Like the cars, however, they are well patronized by the pickpockets.

The driver also acts as conductor. The fares are passed up to him
through a hole in the roof in the rear of his seat. The check-string
passes from the door through this hole, and rests under the driver's
foot. By pulling this string the passenger gives the signal to stop the
stage, and in order to distinguish between this and a signal to receive
the passenger's fare, a small gong, worked by means of a spring, is
fastened at the side of the hole. By striking this the passenger
attracts the driver's attention. A vigorous ringing of this gong by the
driver is a signal for passengers to hand up their fares.

All the stage routes lie along Broadway below Twenty-third street. They
begin at some of the various East River ferries, reach the great
thoroughfare as directly as possible, and leave it to the right and left
between Bleecker and Twenty-third streets, and pass thence to their
destinations in the upper part of the city. The principal lines pass
from Broadway into Madison, Fourth and Fifth avenues, and along their
upper portions traverse the best quarter of the city. As the stages
furnish the only conveyances on Broadway, they generally do well. The
flow and ebb of the great tide down and up the island in the morning and
evening crowd every vehicle, and during the remainder of the day, they
manage by the exertions of the drivers to keep comfortably full.

The stage drivers constitute a distinct class in the metropolis, and
though they lead a hard and laborious life, their lot, as a general
thing, is much better than that of the car drivers. They suffer much
from exposure to the weather. In the summer they frequently fall victims
to sunstroke, and in the bitter winter weather they are sometimes
terribly frozen before reaching the end of their route, as they cannot
leave their boxes. In the summer they protect themselves from the rays
of the sun by means of huge umbrellas fastened to the roof of the coach,
and in the winter they encase themselves in a multitude of wraps and
comforters, and present a rather ludicrous appearance. They are obliged
to exercise considerable skill in driving along Broadway, for the dense
throng in the street renders the occurrence of an accident always
probable, and Jehu has a holy horror of falling into the hands of the
police. Riding with one of them one day, I asked if he could tell me why
it was that the policemen on duty on the street were never run over or
injured in trying to clear the thoroughfare of its frequent "blocks" of
vehicles?

"There'll never be one of them hurt by a driver accustomed to the street,
sir," said he, dryly; "I'd rather run over the richest man in New York.
Why, the police would fix you quick enough if you'd run a-foul of them.
It would be a month or two on the Island, and that's what none of us
fancy."

It requires more skill to carry a stage safely through Broadway than to
drive a horse car, and consequently good stage-drivers are always in
demand, and can command better wages and more privileges than the latter.
They are allowed the greater part of Saturday, or some other day in the
week, and as the stages are not run on Sunday, that day is a season of
rest with them.

Like the street car conductors, they are given to the practice of
"knocking down," and it is said appropriate very much more of their
employers' money than the former. They defend the practice with a
variety of arguments, and assert that it is really to their employers'
interests for them to keep back a part of the earnings of the day, since
in order to cover up their peculations, they must exert themselves to
pick up as many fares as possible. "It's a fact, sir," said one of them
to the writer, "that them as makes the most for themselves, makes the
biggest returns to the office."

Many of the drivers are very communicative on the subjects of their
profession, and not a few tell some good stories of "slouches," "bums,"
and "beats," the names given to those gentlemen whose principal object in
this world is to sponge upon poor humanity to as great an extent as the
latter will permit. One of the cheapest ways of "getting a ride" is to
present a five or ten dollar bill; very few drivers carry so much money,
as they hardly ever have that amount on their morning trips; the bill
cannot be changed, and the owner of it gets "down town" _free_.

Apropos of this method, a talkative Jehu said to me one morning, "When I
was a drivin' on the Knickerbocker," a line that ran some twenty years
ago from South Ferry through Broadway, Bleecker, and Eighth avenue, to
Twenty-third street, "there was a middle-aged man that used to ride
reg'lar; all the fellows got to knowin' him. Well, he'd get in and hand
up a ten dollar note--you know the fare was only six cents then--and we
never had so much 'bout us, so, of course, he'd ride for nothin'; well,
that fellow stuck me five mornin's straight, and I sort o' got tired of
it; so on the six' day I went to the office and says to the Boss,
'There's a man ridin' free on this line. All the fellows knows him; he
gives 'em all a ten dollar note and they can't break it. He's rid with
me these last five mornin's, an' I'm goin' for him to-day, I want ten
dollars in pennies, an' six fares out. If he rides I'll git square with
him.' So the Boss he gives me nine dollars and sixty-four cents all in
pennies--you know they was all big ones then--an' they weighed some, I
tell you. When I got down to Fourteenth street he hailed me. Then the
fares used to pay when they got out. So he hands up his note; I looked
at it--it was on the "Dry Dock"--an' I hands him down the pennies. Well,
how he did blow about it an' said how he wouldn't take 'em. Well, says
I, then I'll keep it all. Well, he was the maddest fellow you ever seen;
he was hoppin'! But he got out an' some one inside hollers out, 'Put
some one on the other side or you'll capsize,' an' he thought it was me.
He jumped on the sidewalk an' he called me everything he could lay his
tongue to, an' I a la'ffin' like blazes. Says he, 'I'll report you, you
old thief,' an' I drove off. Well, I told the Boss, an' he says, 'Let
him come, I'll talk to him,' but he never made no complaint there."

Said another: "A lady got in with me one day an' handed up a fifty cent
stamp. I put down forty cents. I don't never look gen'rally, but this
time I see a man take the change an' put it in his pocket. Pretty soon a
man rings the bell an' says, 'Where's the lady's change?' Well, I thinks
here's a go, an' I points to the man and says, 'That there gentleman put
it in his pocket.' Well, that fellow looked like a sheet, an' a
thunder-cloud an' all through the rainbow. He never said nothing but
pulled out the change, gave it up, an' then he got out an' went 'round a
corner like mad. Some don't wait like he did tho', but gits out right
off. One day a chap got out an' another follered him, an they had it out
on the street there, an' we all was a looking on."

Sometimes the drivers make "a haul" in a curious way. Said one: "A man
handed me up a fifty dollar bill one night. I handed it back four times,
and got mad because he wouldn't give me a small bill. He said he hadn't
anything else, and I could take that or nothing, so, I gave him change
for a dollar bill, and kept forty-nine dollars and ten cents for his
fare. He didn't say anything, and after a while he got out. Why, the
other day a lady gave me a hundred dollar note, and when I told her I
thought she'd faint. 'My goodness!' said she, 'I didn't know it was more
than one.' Such people ought to be beat; they'd be more careful when
they lose a few thousand."

"Some fellows," said another driver, "give you ten or fifteen cents, an'
swear they give you a fifty cent stamp, an' you have to give them change
for fifty cents, or they'll may be go to the office an' make a fuss, an'
the bosses will sooner take their word than yours, an' you'll get
sacked."

One of the most laborious ways of "turning an honest penny" was brought
to my notice by one of these knights of the whip. Said he: "Has you been
a watchin' of my business this morning? P'r'aps you aint took notice of
the money I'm takin' in? No, I guess not." The latter remark was
followed by a rough laugh, in which I thought there was distinguishable a
little more than mere merriment, especially when I heard a mumbled
imprecation. He continued aloud: "I aint seen any yet myself." Soon the
bell rang, and a ticket was passed up. "Well," said he, "he's goin' it
strong, to be sure; this here's the fourteenth ticket I've had on this
trip." An explanation being solicited, the fact was revealed that there
was a man inside who made a practice of buying twelve tickets for a
dollar, then seating himself near the bell, he would take the fares of
every one and give the driver a ticket for each, that is, receive ten
cents and give the driver the equivalent of eight and one-third cents,
thereby making ten cents on every six passengers. "You see," said the
driver, "what a blessin' those sort of fellers is. Here I don't have no
trouble whatsomever; he makes all the change for me, and 'spose my box
should blow over, nothen's lost." From time to time as the tickets were
handed up he would cheer the toiler inside with such expressions as "Go
it boots," "How's the cash?" "How does the old thing work?" always loud
enough to attract the attention of the "insides."

This strange individual interested me so much that I made some inquiries
about him, at first supposing him to be crazy or otherwise terribly
afflicted; but he is considered sound, is the third in a well-to-do firm,
and is far beyond the need of having recourse to any such means for
increasing his capital.

III. STEAM RAILWAYS.

The great necessity of New York is some sure means of rapid transit
between the upper and lower parts of the island. The average New Yorker
spends about an hour or an hour and a half each day in going to and from
his business, and an immense amount of valuable time is thus lost, which
loss is often increased by delays. For the past few years the citizens
of the metropolis have been seeking to procure the construction of a road
from the Battery to Harlem to be operated by steam, and it seems probable
now that a few years more will witness the completion of such a road.
Public opinion is divided between two plans, and it is probable that both
will be tried, and that the city will soon contain a steam railway
elevated above the street and a similar road under the ground.

The elevated railway has already been tried to a limited extent, but is
not regarded with much favor by the citizens. This line extends along
Greenwich street and Ninth avenue, from the Battery to Thirtieth street.
The track of this road is laid on iron posts, at an elevation of about
sixteen feet above the street. The cars are so constructed that it would
be impossible for one of them to fall from the track. Dummy engines
furnish the motive power. The running time from the present southern
terminus at Courtlandt street to Thirtieth street, a distance of about
three miles, is fifteen minutes. The road is pronounced perfectly safe
by competent engineers, but the structure appears so light to the
unscientific public that nine out of ten view it with distrust, and it is
doubtful whether it will ever meet with the success the company hope for.

The only other elevated road at present contemplated, and for which a
liberal charter has been obtained, is known as the _Viaduct Road_. It is
proposed to build this on a series of arches of solid masonry, the
streets to be spanned by light bridges. The line of the road is to be in
the centre of the blocks along its route. The estimated cost of the
road, including the sum to be paid for the right of way, is about
$80,000,000; and it seems certain that this immense cost will necessitate
radical changes in the original plan.

[Picture: TUNNEL UNDER BROADWAY.]

The underground plan has many supporters in the city, these basing their
hopes upon the success achieved by the underground railway of London.
There are several plans proposed for an underground road. The first is
known as the _Arcade Railway_. It is proposed by the friends of this
plan to excavate the streets along which it passes to a depth of about
twenty feet, or in other words, to make a new street twenty feet below
the level of those already in existence. This new street is to be
provided with sidewalks, gas-lamps, telegraph lines, hydrants, etc., and
upon the sidewalks the basements of the present buildings will open, thus
adding an additional and valuable story to the existing edifices. The
lower street is to be arched over with solid masonry, rendered
water-tight, and supported by heavy iron columns. Large glass plates,
similar to those now used for lighting the cellars of stores, will be
placed in the sidewalks of the street above, and will furnish light to
the lower street during the day. The roadway of the lower street will be
entirely devoted to the use of railway trains. The proposed route of the
_Arcade_ line is from the Battery, under Broadway, to Union Square.
Thence the eastern branch is to extend along Fourth avenue to the Harlem
River, while the western is to continue along Broadway to the junction of
Ninth avenue, whence it will be prolonged to the northern end of the
island.

The _Underground Railway_ proper is to extend from the lower to the upper
end of the island, and is to pass through one or more tunnels, after the
manner of the Underground Railway of London.

The third plan for an underground road, is the only one that has yet been
attempted. It is known as the "Beach Pneumatic Tunnel." A small
section, several hundred yards in length, has been constructed under
Broadway, and the company owning it claim that they have thus
demonstrated their ability to construct and work successfully a road
extending from the Battery to the upper end of the island.

The tunnel is eight feet in diameter. It commences in the cellar of the
marble building of Messrs. Develin & Co., at the southwest corner of
Broadway and Warren street, and extends under the great thoroughfare to a
point a little below Murray street. It is dry and clean, is painted
white, and is lighted with gas. It passes under all the gas and water
pipes and sewers. The cars are made to fit the tunnel, and are propelled
by means of atmospheric pressure. A strong blast of air, thrown out by
means of an immense blowing machine, is forced against the rear end of a
car, and sends it along the track like a sail-boat before the wind. This
current of course secures perfect ventilation within the car. The
company claim that they will be able, when their road is completed, to
transport more than 20,000 passengers per hour, each way.

XII. HORACE GREELEY.

The best known man in New York, in one sense, and the least known in
others, is Horace Greeley. If there is a man, woman, or child in all
this broad land who has not heard of him, let that person apply to Barnum
for an engagement as a natural curiosity. And yet how few know the man
as he really is. The most absurd stories are told of him, and the
likeness most familiar to the public is a ridiculous caricature.

He was born in Amherst, New Hampshire, on the 3d of February, 1811, and
is consequently 61 years old. His parents were poor, and Horace received
but a very plain education at the common schools of the vicinity. The
natural talent of the boy made up for this, however, for he read
everything he could lay his hands on. He was a rapid reader, too, and
had the faculty of retaining the information thus acquired. He was kept
too busy at work on his father's sterile farm to be able to read during
the day, and he was too poor to afford to use candles at night, and so
his early studies were carried on by the light of pine knots. He served
a severe apprenticeship at the printing business, commencing it at a very
early age, and finding employment first on one country paper, and then on
another, working at his trade, and occasionally writing for the journals
he put in type.

In 1831 he came to New York, convinced that the great city offered him a
better opportunity for success than any other place, and resolved to win
that success. He was very boyish in appearance, frail, delicate-looking,
but hopeful and resolved. For ten years he worked hard in the various
offices of the city, sometimes setting type and sometimes writing
editorials. Sometimes he published his own journal, but generally found
this a "losing business." Failure did not discourage him, and he kept
on, acquiring greater experience and becoming better known every year.
He has himself told so well the story of his early struggles to so large
an audience that I need not repeat it here.

In 1841, ten years from the time he wandered along Nassau street, without
money or friends, and with all his worldly possessions tied up in a
handkerchief, he began the publication of the _New York Tribune_, having
succeeded in obtaining the necessary capital. It was a venture, and a
bold one, but it proved a great success. He chose the name of the
journal himself, and became its responsible editor. Though others have
assisted him in his efforts, the success of the paper is his work. He
has made it a great power in the land, and he is naturally proud of his
work. Those who know him best say that the title dearest to his heart is
that of "Founder of the New York Tribune."

Mr. Greeley's career has been one of incessant labor. His friends say he
was never known to rest as other men do. When he goes to his farm in
Westchester County for recreation, he rests by chopping wood and digging
ditches. His editorial labors make up a daily average of about two
columns of the _Tribune_, and he contributes the equivalent of about six
_Tribune_ columns per week to other journals. He writes from fifteen to
twenty-five letters per day; he has published several large works; he
goes thoroughly through his exchanges every day, and keeps himself well
posted in the current literature of the times; he speaks or lectures
about five or six times a month, and makes monthly visits to Albany and
Washington, to see what is going on behind the scenes in the capitals of
the State and Nation. He is constantly receiving people who come on
business or from curiosity, and yet he never seems tired, though he is
not always even-tempered.

He is somewhat peculiar in his personal appearance. Most people in
thinking of him picture to themselves a slouchy looking man, with a white
hat, a white overcoat, with one leg of his breeches caught over the top
of his boot, his whole dress shabby and not overclean, and his pockets
stuffed full of newspapers, and many have imagined that he "gets himself
up" so, in order to attract attention on the streets. The true Horace
Greeley, however, though careless as to outward appearances, is
immaculately neat in his dress. No one ever saw him with dirty linen or
soiled clothes except in muddy weather, when, in New York, even a Brummel
must be content to be splashed with mud. Mr. Greeley's usual dress is a
black frock coat, a white vest, and a pair of black pantaloons which come
down to the ankle. His black cravat alone betrays his carelessness, and
that only when it slips off the collar, and works its way around to the
side. Mr. Greeley is five feet ten inches in height, and is stout in
proportion. He is partly bald, and his hair is white. He has a light,
pinkish complexion, and his eyes are blue, small, and sunken. His mouth
is well-shaped, and his features are regular. His beard is worn around
the throat and under the chin, and is perfectly white. His hands are
small and soft; but his feet and legs are awkward and clumsy, and this
gives to him a peculiar shuffling motion in walking. He is abstracted in
manner, and when accosted suddenly replies abruptly, and as some think
rudely.

One of his acquaintances thus describes him in his editorial office:

"We walk through the little gate in the counter, turn within the open
doorway on our left, climb a short, narrow flight of stairs, and find
ourselves in a small room, ten by fifteen, furnished with a green carpet,
a bed lounge, an open book-rack, a high desk, a writing-desk, three
arm-chairs, a short-legged table, and a small marble sink.

"Mr. Greeley's back is toward us. He is seated at his desk. His head is
bent over his writing, and his round shoulders are quite prominent. He
is scribbling rapidly. A quire of foolscap, occupying the only clear
space on his desk, is melting rapidly beneath his pen. The desk itself
is a heap of confusion. Here is Mr. Greeley's straw hat; there is his
handkerchief. In front of him is a peck of newspaper clippings, not
neatly rolled up, but loosely sprawled over the desk. At his left a
rickety pair of scissors catches a hurried nap, and at his right a
paste-pot and a half-broken box of wafers appear to have had a
rough-and-tumble fight. An odd-looking paper-holder is just ready to
tumble on the floor. An old-fashioned sand-box, looking like a
dilapidated hour-glass, is half-hidden under a slashed copy of _The New
York World_. Mr. Greeley still sticks to wafers and sand, instead of
using mucilage and blotting-paper. A small drawer, filled with postage
stamps and bright steel pens, has crawled out on the desk. Packages of
folded missives are tucked in the pigeon-holes, winking at us from the
back of the desk, and scores of half-opened letters, mixed with seedy
brown envelopes, flop lazily about the table. Old papers lie gashed and
mangled about his chair, the _debris_ of a literary battle field. A
clean towel hangs on a rack to his right. A bound copy of _The Tribune
Almanac_, from 1838 to 1868, swings from a small chain fastened to a
staple screwed in the side of his desk; two other bound volumes stand on
their feet in front of his nose, and two more of the same kind are fast
asleep on the book-rack in the corner. Stray numbers of the almanac peep
from every nook. The man who would carry off Greeley's bound pile of
almanacs would deserve capital punishment. The Philosopher could better
afford to lose one of his legs than to lose his almanacs. The room is
kept scrupulously clean and neat. A waste paper basket squats between
Mr. Greeley's legs, but one half the torn envelopes and boshy
communications flutter to the floor instead of being tossed into the
basket. The table at his side is covered with a stray copy of _The New
York Ledger_, and a dozen magazines lie thereon. Here is an iron garden
rake wrapped up in an _Independent_. There hangs a pair of handcuffs
once worn by old John Brown, and sent Mr. Greeley by an enthusiastic
admirer of both Horace and John. A champagne basket, filled with old
scrap-books and pamphlets, occupies one corner. A dirty bust of Lincoln,
half hidden in dusty piles of paper, struggles to be seen on the top of
his desk. A pile of election tables, dirty, ragged and torn, clipped
from some unknown newspaper, looks as if they had half a mind to jump
down on the 'Old Man's' bald head. A certificate of life membership in
some tract or abolition society, and maps of the World, New York, and New
Jersey hang on the wall. A rare geological specimen of quartz rock,
weighing about ten pounds, is ready to roll down a high desk to the floor
on the first alarm. Dirty pamphlets are as plentiful as cockroaches.
His office library consists of 150 volumes.

"Pen, ink, paper, scissors, and envelopes are in unfailing demand. The
cry, 'Mr. Greeley wants writing paper!' creates a commotion in the
counting-room, and Mr. Greeley gets paper quicker than a hungry fisherman
could skin an eel.

"Mr. Greeley can lay Virginia worm fences in ink faster than any other
editor in New York City. He uses a fountain-pen, a present from some
friend. He thinks a great deal of it, but during an experience of three
years has failed to learn the simple principle of suction without getting
his mouth full of ink, and he generally uses it with an empty receiver.
He makes a dash at the ink-bottle every twenty seconds, places the third
finger and thumb of his left hand on his paper, and scratches away at his
worm fence like one possessed. He writes marvellously fast. Frequently
the point of his pen pricks through his sheet, for he writes a heavy
hand, and a snap follows, spreading inky spots over the paper, resembling
a woodcut portraying the sparks from a blacksmith's hammer. Blots like
mashed spiders, or crushed huckleberries, occasionally intervene, but the
old veteran dashes them with sand, leaving a swearing compositor to
scratch off the soil, and dig out the words underneath.

"Mr. Greeley's manuscript, when seen for the first time, resembles an
intricate mass of lunatic hieroglyphics, or the tracks of a spider
suffering from _delirium tremens_. But, by those accustomed to his
writing, a remarkable exactness is observed. The spelling, punctuation,
accented letters, and capitalizing are perfect. The old type-setters of
the office prefer his manuscript above that of any other editor, for the
simple reason that he writes his article as he wishes it to appear, and
rarely, if ever, cuts or slashes a proof-sheet. And this punctuality is,
in a great measure, a feature of his life. He is always in time, and
never waits for anybody. He employs no private secretary, and when he
receives a letter, answers it on the instant. No matter how trivial the
request, the next outward-bound mail will carry away one of his
autographs, if he thinks an answer necessary.

"He knows we have entered his room, yet he continues his writing. The
only sound we hear within the sanctum is the scratch of his pen. He has
the power of concentrating all the strength of his mind on the subject of
his editorial, and will pay no attention to any question, however
important, until he finishes his sentence. If the cry of 'Fire!' should
resound through the building, Greeley would finish his sentence and ring
his bell before he would leave his room. The sentence complete, he
places the forefinger of his right hand at the end of the word last
written, seizes the handle of his pen in his teeth, and looks his
tormentor full in the face. It is a glance of inquiry, and the
questioner, intuitively conscious of this fact, repeats his
interrogation. Mr. Greeley divines the question before it is finished,
and answers it pithily and quickly. The pen is then snatched from his
mouth, dexterously dipped into his inkstand, and his fingers again travel
across his transverse sheet of foolscap like a 'daddy-long-legs' caught
in a storm. If his questioner is importunate, and insists on wasting his
time, he continues his writing, never looking up, and either answers
absent-mindedly, or in a low, impatient tone, tinged with a peculiar
boyish nervousness. If his visitor is ungentlemanly enough to still
continue his teasing importunities, a storm breaks forth, and the
uncourteous person will trot out of the sanctum with an answer ringing in
his ears that should bring a flush to his cheek.

"To Mr. Greeley time is more valuable than money or even friendship.
When busy, he is no respecter of persons. President or hod-carrier,
general or boot-black, clergyman or express-driver, authoress or
apple-woman--all are treated alike. Eminent men have left his room under
the impression that they have been deliberately slighted, while Horace
still slashed away at his inky pickets, totally unconscious of any
neglect."

Mr. Greeley's home is at Chappaqua, in Westchester County, New York,
about thirty miles from the city. He owns a fine farm of about forty
acres, which has cost him more money than he would care to tell.
Agriculture is one of his great hobbies, and he tests here all the
theories that are presented to him. His friends say that his turnips
cost him about ten dollars apiece to produce, and bring about fifty cents
per bushel in the market, and that all his farming operations are
conducted on the same principle.

[Picture: HORACE GREELEY.]

Mr. Greeley married when quite young, and has had three children. Two
daughters, aged about twenty and twelve, are living, but his son, a
bright and unusually promising child, died some years ago. Mr. Greeley
is one of the principal stockholders in the _Tribune_, and is a rich man.
He is liberal and generous to those in need, and is a warm friend to
benevolent enterprises of all kinds.

The chief reason of his popularity is the general confidence of the
people in his personal integrity. Not even his political enemies
question his honesty--and surely in these days of corruption and crime in
public life, an honest man is one that can not well be spared.

XIII. THE TOMBS.

Turn out of Printing House Square, leaving the City Hall on your left,
and pass up Centre street for about a quarter of a mile, and you will
come to a massive granite edifice in the Egyptian style of architecture.
It occupies an entire square, and is bounded by Centre and Elm, and
Leonard and Franklin streets. The main entrance is on Centre street, and
is approached by a broad flight of granite steps, which lead to a portico
supported by massive Egyptian columns. The proper name of the edifice is
_The Halls of Justice_, but it is popularly known all over the Union as
_The Tombs_, which name was given to it in consequence of its gloomy
appearance. It occupies the site of the old Collect Pond which once
supplied the citizens of New York with drinking water, was begun in 1835
and completed in 1838.

The outer building occupies four sides of a hollow square, and is 253 by
200 feet in size. It was built at a time when New York contained
scarcely half its present population, and has long since ceased to be
equal to the necessities of the city. The site is low and damp, and the
building is badly ventilated. The warden does all in his power to
counteract these evils, and keeps the place remarkably neat, but it is
still a terribly sickly and dreary abode. It was designed to accommodate
about 200 prisoners, but for some years past the number of prisoners
confined here at one time has averaged 400, and has sometimes exceeded
that average. The Grand Jury of the County have recently condemned the
place as a nuisance, and it is believed that the city will ere long
possess a larger, cleaner, and more suitable prison.

[Picture: THE TOMBS.]

When the prison was built the Five Points, on the western verge of which
it lies, was a much worse section than it is now. It is bad enough at
present, but then the Tombs constituted a solitary island in a sea of
crime and suffering. A terrible island it was, too.

Entering through the gloomy portal upon which the sunlight never falls,
the visitor is chilled with the dampness which greets him as soon as he
passes into the shadow of the heavy columns. Upon reaching the inner
side of the enclosure, he finds that the portion of the prison seen from
the street encloses a large courtyard, in the centre of which stands a
second prison, 142 feet long by 45 feet deep, and containing 148 cells.
This is the male prison, and is connected with the outer building by a
bridge known as the _Bridge of Sighs_, since it is by means of it that
condemned criminals pass from their cells to the scaffold at the time of
their execution.

The gallows is taken down and kept in the prison until there is need for
it. Then it is set up in the courtyard near the Bridge of Sighs. All
executions are conducted here in private, that is, they are witnessed
only by such persons as the officers of the law may see fit to admit.
But on such days the neighboring buildings are black with people, seeking
to look down over the prison walls and witness the death agonies of the
poor wretch who is paying the penalty of the law.

[Picture: THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.]

The interior of the male prison consists of a narrow and lofty hall, upon
which open four tiers of cells, one above another; those above the ground
floor being reached by light iron galleries. Each gallery is guarded by
two keepers. The cells are narrow, and each is lighted by a small
iron-barred window at the farther end. Light and air are also admitted
by the barred door of iron opening upon the corridor. There are eleven
cells of especial strength, in which convicts condemned to death or to
the State Prison are confined. There are six other cells, which are used
for the confinement of persons charged with offences less grave, and six
more, which are used for sick prisoners. The cells are generally full of
criminals. Some of them are well furnished, and are provided with
carpets, chairs, a table, and books and paper, which are bought at the
expense of the prisoner or his friends. Some of the inmates shrink from
the observation of visitors, but others are hardened to crime and shame,
and not unfrequently cause the visitor's ears to tingle with the remarks
they address to them. No lights are allowed in the cells, and the aspect
of the place is very gloomy, the whole prison is kept scrupulously clean,
the sanitary regulations being very strict, but the lack of room
necessitates the crowding of the prisoners to a fearfully demoralizing
extent.

[Picture: INTERIOR OF MALE PRISON.]

The outer building contains the female prison, which lies along the
Leonard street side, the boys' prison, and the halls of justice, or rooms
occupied by the Tombs Police Court and the Court of Special Sessions.
Over the main entrance on the Centre street side, are six comfortable
cells. These are for the use of criminals of the wealthier class, who
can afford to pay for such comforts. Forgers, fraudulent merchants, and
the like, pass the hours of their detention in these rooms, while their
humbler but not more guilty brothers in crime are shut in the close cells
of the male prison. These rooms command a view of the street, so that
their occupants are not entirely cut off from the outer world.

The female prison is in charge of an excellent matron, who has held her
position for more than twenty years. Men are never confined here, and
male visitors are subject to certain restrictions. In this portion is
located the room used as a chapel. Religious services of some kind are
held in the Tombs every day in the week except Saturday, and the effort
is made to give all the denominations an opportunity of doing good.
Sunday morning and Tuesday until noon are devoted to the Roman Catholics;
Sunday and Tuesday afternoons to the Episcopalians; Monday to the
Methodists, and Wednesday, Thursday and Friday to the other Protestant
denominations. Some of the Protestant clergy sometimes attempt to hold
religious services in the main hall of the male prison, so that the
prisoners in their cells may hear what is going on. The latter pay
little or no attention to the preacher, and frequently interrupt and
annoy him by their shouts, jeers and imitations in their cells. The
Sisters of Charity are in charge of the female and boys' prisons, and do
a vast amount of good by their quiet ministrations. The boys are kept in
a large room during the day, and are locked up in separate cells at
night.

[Picture: THE PRISON CHAPEL.]

One of the principal rooms in the Tombs is "The Bummers' Cell." It is a
large apartment, shut off from one of the main halls by an iron railing.
It is always tolerably well filled, and on Saturday nights it is
overflowing. Here are confined those against whom there is no serious
charge; persons arrested for drunkenness, or for simple disorder on the
streets. On Sunday morning the visitor will sometimes find a large crowd
of men collected in it, not all of whom are unfortunates or criminals.
Some are well-dressed, well-to-do persons, who have had the misfortune to
be drunk and noisy on Saturday night. Some are strangers, residents of
other cities, who have started out from their hotels to see the sights
and have a merry time, and who have fallen at length--and fortunately for
them--into the hands of the police. A few are persons who have been
wrongfully or maliciously accused of crime.

From sunset until long after midnight on Saturday, the police are busy
with ridding the streets of drunken and disorderly persons. As soon as a
person is arrested, he is taken to the Tombs or to one of the
station-houses. It is the duty of the officer in charge of the precinct
to lock up every one against whom a definite charge is brought. Even
though satisfied that the person is wrongfully accused, or is simply
unfortunate, he has no discretion. He must hold for trial all charged
with offences, and at the Tombs the officer is obliged to throw persons
who command his sympathy into the company of the most abandoned wretches
for an entire night. Drunkenness, disorderly conduct, and fighting, are
the principal charges brought against the occupants of the Bummers' Cell.
The noise, profanity, and obscenity are fearful. All classes and ages
are represented there.

During the year 1870, 49,423 persons were confined for various periods of
time in the Tombs.

The Tombs Police Court offers some interesting and instructive
spectacles. It is opened at six o'clock on Sunday morning. It is
presided over by Justice Joseph Dowling, a short, thickset man, with a
handsome face, and a full, well-shaped head, indicating both ability and
determination. Judge Dowling is still a young man, and is one of the
most efficient magistrates in the city. His decisions are quickly
rendered, and are usually just. His long experience with criminals has
given him an intimate knowledge of the men with whom he has to deal, and
their ways. This often helps him to a conclusion which is really true,
although the evidence in the case does not confirm it, and he frequently
startles criminals by boldly declaring that they did thus and so at such
a time. The criminal overwhelmed with astonishment and confusion
generally admits the charge, and is sentenced accordingly. A stranger is
at once struck with the quick and penetrating power of Judge Dowling's
glance. He seems to look right through a criminal, and persons brought
before him generally find it impossible to deceive him. This has made
him the terror of criminals, who have come to regard an arraignment
before him as equivalent to a conviction, which is generally the case.
At the same time he is kind and considerate to those who are simply
unfortunate. As a man, he is kind-hearted, and inclined to lean toward
the side of mercy.

As soon as the court is opened, the prisoners are called up in the order
of their arrival during the previous night. Drunkenness and disorder,
and first offences of a minor character, are punished with a reprimand,
and the prisoner is dismissed. These cases constitute a majority of the
charges, and the judge disposes of them with a rapidity which astonishes
a stranger. The more serious cases are held for further examination, or
are sent on for trial before the Court of Special Sessions.

All classes of people come to the Justice with complaints of every
description. Women come to complain of their husbands, and men of their
wives. Judge Dowling listens to them all, and if a remedy is needed,
applies the proper one without delay. In most instances he dismisses the
parties with good advice, as their cases are not provided for by the law.

The Court of Special Sessions sits in a large hall on the right of the
main entrance to the prison. It is strictly a criminal court, and is for
the trial of charges which are too serious to be disposed of in the
Police Court. Two judges are supposed to sit during the sessions of this
court, but Judge Dowling frequently conducts its business alone. The
prisoner is allowed to employ counsel and introduce witnesses in his own
behalf.

The following is an example of the way in which Judge Dowling transacts
business in this court:

"The first case of importance was that of the People vs. James Day,
_alias_ 'Big-mouthed Scotty,' and William Jones, _alias_ 'Billy Clews,'
on the complaint of Captain Ira S. Garland, of the Twelfth precinct.
Probably there are not two other men in this city who could fairly be
compared with these. They are both of the most dissolute, desperate
habits, and have been what they now are, thieves, since the date of their
entry into this city. The first, who is truthfully styled
'big-mouthed'--that hole in his face being almost large enough to run in
one of the cars on the elevated railroad in Greenwich street--was born in
the Hielands o' Bonnie Scotland; but, be it said, he appears not to have
become inoculated with the same spirit of honesty and perseverance that
characterizes the greater portion of his countrymen. He arrived here
nearly twenty years ago, and since that time he has been a lazy,
contemptible thief, a shocking contrast with Caledonians in general.

[Picture: COURT OF SPECIAL SESSIONS.]

"His companion, 'Billy Clews,' has been known in different circles of the
same profession, and could usually be found in the neighborhood of Five
Points. On Thursday there was what is usually termed a 'large' funeral,
from a church at the corner of One-hundred-and-twenty-sixth street and
Fourth avenue. Outside was a long line of coaches, and inside the church
was full of mourners and the friends of the departed, whose remains were
about to be consigned to that 'bourn whence no traveller returns.' The
crowd inside was so great that the police were called in to put the
people in the seats, as far as could be done, and remained there during
the service to keep order. While Captain Garland was standing at the top
of the centre aisle he saw 'Big-Mouth' elbowing his way from the altar
towards the door, and making various efforts to pick pockets as he came
along. Presently he came close up behind a lady who was standing with
her face to the altar, and, reaching his hands in the folds of her dress,
quietly withdrew her pocket-book from its hiding place. The pocket-book
vanished very quickly, however, so that the captain could not see which
way it went or what, for the time, had become of it. At first the
thieves did not observe the captain, but the instant Day caught a glance
of him he turned quietly to his accomplice and said 'Look out, Billy;
there's a big cop.' Billy took the 'cue,' began to move off, and
attempted to get out of the church. But as they were both in the
doorway, and seeing the captain making for them, they made a rush out
from the sacred edifice, passed the carriages and ran down the avenue as
fast as 'shank's pony' could carry them. The captain gave chase, and,
with the aid of an officer on duty at the church, succeeded in arresting
the individuals who were thus trading on the mourners over a dead body.
On returning to the church Garland was informed of the loss of the lady's
pocketbook, but he failed to discover her among the crowd, and
consequently could not produce her in evidence against the prisoners at
the bar. He had seen them previously walking towards the church, and
knowing Day to be a general thief, he gave orders to look out for them,
but somehow for a long time the thieves escaped the vigilance of the
officers. They allowed it was 'all wrong' to be in the church at the
time, but they told the captain he ought to allow them to go, for he knew
'how it was' with them.

"'What have you to say, Scotty?' asked the Judge.

"'Oh, well,' replied Big-Mouth, 'I don't thenk a've got much to say, only
to ask your Honor to deal mercifully with us. The captain at the police
station didn't say he was to breng this prosecution agen us noo; he only
told us he wud tak us out o' harum's way, and didn't make no charge.'

"Judge Dowling.--'It is no use my saying anything to you, Day; in fact,
all that could be said is that you have never been anything else than
what you are now, a thief, and that, too, of a most contemptible type.
You go about to the various graveyards and rob the poor persons who are
too absorbed in interring the dead and in grieving for their lost friends
to notice that you are there for the purpose of plunder; you also visit
the churches wherever there is a crowd of this sort paying their last
respects to the remains of a friend, and never leave without robbing some
poor persons of their money or jewelry. Scotchy, you have done that
business for the past eighteen years to my own knowledge. I do not know
so much about your accomplice, or how long he has been travelling with
you. I will, however, rid the people of your presence, and do my best to
stay your heartless proceedings for some time to come. One year each in
the Penitentiary and a fine of $200 each, and both to stand committed
until the amounts be paid.'

"'I told you how it 'oud be, Scotty,' yelled his partner, and with a
deplorable attitude the pair were marched over the 'Bridge of Sighs.'"

The Tombs is merely a prison of detention, and as soon as prisoners are
sentenced to the institutions on Blackwell's Island, or the State Prison,
they are conveyed to those establishments with as little delay as
possible. The vehicle used for transporting them through the city is a
close wagon, with wooden blinds for light and ventilation, around the
upper part of the sides. This is known as "Black Maria," and may be
daily seen rumbling through the city on its way from the Police Courts to
the ferry to Blackwell's Island.

Closely connected with the penal system of the city is the "Prison
Association of New York." This society was organized in 1844. Its
constitution declares that its objects are: "I. A humane attention to
persons arrested and held for examination or trial, including inquiry
into the circumstances of their arrest, and the crimes charged against
them; securing to the friendless an impartial trial, and protection from
the depredations of unprincipled persons, whether professional sharpers
or fellow-prisoners. II. Encouragement and aid to discharged convicts
in their efforts to reform and earn an honest living. This is done by
assisting them to situations, providing them with tools, and otherwise
counselling them and helping them to business. III. To study the
question of prison discipline generally, the government of the State,
County, and City prisons, to obtain statistics of crime, to disseminate
information on this subject, to evolve the true principles of science,
and impress a more reformatory character on our penitentiary system."

[Picture: "BLACK MARIA."]

Between 1844 and 1869, the members and agents of the Association visited
in the prisons of New York and Brooklyn 93,560 persons confined there.
These were poor and friendless prisoners, and they received from the
Association such advice and aid as their cases demanded. During the same
period, 25,290 additional cases were examined by the officers of the
Society. They succeeded in obtaining the withdrawal of 6148 complaints,
as being trivial, or based upon prejudice or passion. Upon their
recommendation, the courts discharged 7922 persons guilty of first
offences, and who were penitent, or who had committed the offence under
mitigating circumstances. They also provided 4130 discharged convicts
with permanent situations, and furnished 18,307 other discharged convicts
with board, money, railroad tickets, or clothing, to help them to better
their condition. In the twenty-five years embraced in the above period,
they thus extended their good offices to 156,368 persons. A noble
record, truly.

XIV. THE PRESS.

I. THE DAILY JOURNALS.

The Metropolitan Press is the model after which the journals of the
entire country are shaped, and, taken as a whole, it is the best
institution of its kind in existence. The leading New York journals have
but one superior in the whole world--the London _Times_--and they
frequently equal, though they do not surpass the "Thunderer" itself in
the extent and importance of their news, and the ability and value of
their editorials. They are the best managed, employ the greatest talent,
and are the most influential upon the country at large of any American
newspapers.

The leading journals are the morning papers. Five of these, the
_Herald_, _Tribune_, _Times_, _World_, and _Staats Zeitung_, are huge
eight-page sheets, and frequently issue supplements of from four to eight
pages additional. The others consist of four large, old-fashioned pages.

The expense and labor of issuing a first-class morning journal are very
great. The cost of publication ranges from $800,000 to $1,000,000 per
annum; and the force employed, including editors, reporters,
proof-readers, newsmen, pressmen, feeders, clerks and compositors, is
over four hundred persons. The profits vary according to the paper and
the times.

The _Herald_ is private property, as are some of the others. The
_Tribune_, _Times_, and _Sun_, are owned by stock companies. Under Mr.
Raymond the _Times_ was subject to his sole direction, but the _Tribune_
has always suffered from the interference of the stockholders.

Each newspaper has its editor in chief, who controls the general tone and
policy of the paper. He decides all matters relating to its editorial
conduct, and is known to the public as the responsible editor. His
principal assistant is the managing editor. In the absence of the chief
editor he is the controlling power of the journal. His legitimate duties
are to oversee the details of the paper, to see that its publication is
not delayed, to engage and dismiss sub-editors and correspondents, to
prescribe the character of the service required of these gentlemen, and
to regulate the salaries paid to them. All the writers on the paper are
directly responsible to him, and he, in his turn, to the chief editor.
There is also a night editor, whose duties are heavy and responsible. He
is charged with the duty of "making up" the paper, and decides what shall
and what shall not go in--a delicate duty sometimes. He is at his post
at 7 o'clock in the evening, and remains there until the paper goes to
press in the morning, which is generally between 2 and 3 o'clock, though
sometimes it is held back by important news until daylight. The foreign
editor is usually a foreigner, and one well acquainted with the leading
languages of Europe. He controls the foreign correspondence, and writes
editorials upon European topics. The financial editor writes the money
article, and is quite an important personage. He is obliged to be well
informed concerning all the financial transactions of the day; he is
courted by bankers and capitalists, as he to a certain extent controls
public opinion in money matters, and he has ample facilities for making
money outside of his position. The post is considered one of the most
lucrative on the paper, and the salary is regarded as a minor
consideration. The city editor has charge of the city news, and is the
chief of the reporters. The leading dailies have from twelve to thirty
reporters. These are assigned to duty each day by the city editor, who
enters his directions to them in a large book. They are sometimes
required to go to certain places to obtain news, and are expected to
furnish so much matter concerning it. Some of the reporters have special
lines of duty, and report nothing but law cases, police matters, etc.,
and some limit their operations to Brooklyn, Jersey City, and the other
suburban towns. Some of the reporters are stenographers also. At times
there will be scarcely any work to be done, and again the powers of the
whole staff of reporters will be severely taxed. There are also a
literary editor, whose duties are to review and notice books and other
publications; and art, dramatic and musical critics. Some of these are,
as they should be, gentlemen of the highest culture, and impartial in
their opinions. Others are quite the reverse. The best of them,
however, are but men, though they too often assume to be something
superior, and their judgments are not infallible. The leading journals
also employ translators, who put into English such extracts as it may be
necessary to use from the foreign papers.

[Picture: PRINTING HOUSE SQUARE.]

The amount of labor thus expended upon a morning newspaper is immense.
It is followed by an almost equal outlay of mechanical work in putting
the paper in type and printing it. The principal papers are stereotyped,
and are printed from plates. Formerly the Eight and Ten Cylinder Hoe
Presses were used, but of late years the Bullock Press has become very
popular. It works quite as rapidly as the Hoe press, prints on both
sides at once, and is said to spoil fewer sheets. The paper is put in in
a large roll, and is cut by the machine into the proper sizes and
printed. Only one feeder is necessary.

Nearly all the city newspapers are located in or around Printing House
Square, immediately opposite and east of the City Hall. One of the
greatest curiosities of this square is a huge engine, which runs a large
number of presses. It is situated in Spruce street, between William and
Nassau streets, and occupies the basement of the building in which it is
located. There are two engines here--one of 150 horse power, which is
used during the day, and a smaller one of 75 horse power, which relieves
it at night. Shafting and belting carry the power in every direction
from the engine. One hundred and twenty-five presses are worked by these
engines--each being estimated at so much horse power, and charged
accordingly. They turn three-quarters of a mile of main shafting,
besides a mile or more of connecting shafts, and as much belting. One of
these belts, an India rubber one, 120 feet long, connects a fifth story
press on Nassau street with the main shafting on Spruce street, across
the intervening yards, and another of leather, on Beekman street, 140
feet, perfectly perpendicular, connects the sub-cellar and the attic.
Some of the shafting passes under and across the streets. Over fifty
newspapers and literary papers, besides magazines and books innumerable,
are printed by this monster engine.

The salaries paid by the newspapers are not large. Those who receive
what is seemingly high pay do an amount of work out of proportion to
their compensation. Mr. Greeley receives $10,000 per annum. Mr. Reid,
the managing editor of the _Tribune_, receives $5000. Mr. Sinclair, the
publisher, receives $10,000. These are considered good salaries. Any
one familiar with the cost of living in New York will not think them very
much in excess of the wants of their recipients, who are men with
families.

As a newspaper, the _New York Herald_ stands at the head of the city
dailies. It aims to be a vehicle for imparting the latest news of the
day, and as such it is a great success. Nobody cares for its opinions
editorially expressed, for it is the general belief that the _Herald_ has
no fixed opinions. It is valued here simply as a newspaper. It is
beyond a doubt the most energetic, and the best managed _newspaper_ in
the city. Mr. James Gordon Bennett, the elder, has no rival in the art
of conducting a popular journal, but his son, Mr. J. G. Bennett, jr.,
does not seem to inherit his father's ability. Young Mr. Bennett is now
the managing editor, and since his accession to that post there has been
a marked decline in the ability of the paper, which, under the rule of
Mr. Hudson, was unquestioned. Nobody expects consistency in the
_Herald_, and its course to-day is no guarantee that it will hold the
same tone to-morrow. Mr. Bennett aims to float with the popular current,
to be always on the winning side, and he succeeds. The advertising
patronage of the paper is immense.

The _Herald_ office is one of the most conspicuous buildings in the city.
It is located at the corner of Broadway and Ann street, and is built of
white marble, in the modern French style. Below the sidewalk are two
immense cellars or vaults, one below the other, in which are two steam
engines of thirty-five horse power each. Three immense Hoe presses are
kept running constantly from midnight until seven in the morning,
printing the daily edition. The rooms and machinery are kept in the most
perfect order. Nothing is allowed to be out of place, and the slightest
speck of dirt visible in any part, calls forth a sharp rebuke from Mr.
Bennett, who makes frequent visits to every department of the paper. On
the street floor, the main room is the public office of the journal. Its
entrances are on Broadway and Ann street. It is paved with marble tiles,
and the desks, counters, racks, etc., are of solid black walnut,
ornamented with plate glass. Every thing is scrupulously clean, and the
room presents the appearance of some wealthy banking office.

[Picture: THE HERALD OFFICE.]

On the third floor are the editorial rooms. The principal apartment is
the "Council Room," which overlooks Broadway. Every other branch of the
editorial department has its separate room, and all are furnished with
every convenience necessary for doing their work with the utmost
precision and dispatch. Each day, at noon, the editors of the _Herald_,
twelve in number, assemble in the "Council Room." Mr. Bennett, if he is
in the city, takes his seat at the head of the table, and the others
assume the places assigned. If Mr. Bennett is not present, his son,
James Gordon Bennett, jr., presides at the council, and in the absence of
both father and son, the managing editor takes the head of the table.
The council is opened by Mr. Bennett, or his representative, who presents
a list of subjects. These are taken up, _seriatim_, and discussed by all
present. The topics to be presented in the editorial columns of the
_Herald_ the next day are determined upon, and each editor is assigned
the subject he is to "write up." All this is determined in a short
while. Then Mr. Bennett asks the gentlemen present for suggestions. He
listens attentively to each one, and decides quickly whether they shall
be presented in the _Herald_, and at what time; and if he desires any
subject to be written upon, he states his wish, and "sketches," in his
peculiar and decisive manner, the various headings and the style of
treatment. There are twelve editors and thirty-five reporters employed
on the _Herald_. They are liberally paid for their services. Any one
bringing in news is well rewarded for his trouble. The composing rooms
are located on the top floor, and are spacious, airy, and excellently
lighted. A "dumb waiter," or vertical railway, communicates with the
press room; and speaking tubes, and a smaller "railway," afford the means
of conversation and transmitting small parcels between this room and the
various parts of the building. Five hundred men are employed in the
various departments of the paper.

The circulation of the daily edition of the _Herald_ is estimated by
competent judges at from 65,000 to 70,000 copies. In times of great
public excitement, all the dailies overrun their usual number by many
thousands.

The _Tribune_ has a daily circulation of about 43,000 copies. It is, in
point of ability, the best of the city dailies. It long ago surmounted
its early difficulties, and has been for many years one of the most
profitable enterprises in the city. It is owned by a joint stock
company. It was begun by Mr. Greeley on $1000 of borrowed money. At the
formation of the company the stock was divided into 100 shares at $1000
each. The number is still the same, but the shares could not now be
bought for many times their original value. In 1870 the dividend
declared amounted to $163,000; or, $1630 on each share. At present the
shares are owned as follows:

Shares.
Samuel Sinclair, publisher 21
Horace Greeley, chief editor 12
Estate of Stephen Clark, 14
(formerly money editor)
Dr. J. C. Ayer (of Lowell) 16
Estate of A. D. Richardson 5
Bayard Taylor 5
T. N. Rooker, foreman in 5
composing room
Mr. Runkle (husband of Mrs. L. G. 2
Calhoun)
Oliver Johnson (of the 1
Independent)
Mr. Cleveland (brother-in-law of 1
Horace Greeley)
G. W. Smalley (London 2
correspondent)
Solon Robinson (agricultural 2
editor)
Two printers in the office 2
Solomon A. Cheeney 3
John Hooper 2
B. F. Camp 2

The _Tribune_ property is valued at over $1,000,000, which includes
nearly $300,000 in real estate. The stockholders, it is said,
contemplate, at no distant day, erecting a large and handsome printing
office on the site of the present unpretending building now occupied.
The profits of the paper do not depend upon the daily edition. The
semi-weekly circulates about 35,000 or 40,000 copies, and the weekly
about 130,000 copies. The last is sent all over the United States, and
has beyond a doubt the largest number of readers of any paper in the
world.

The _Tribune_ is the leading organ of the Republican party in the United
States, and its influence is tremendous. It is a well written, well
conducted paper, and is every year becoming more independent of party
control. The chief editor is Horace Greeley, who imparts his strong
personality to the whole journal. Many of the country people believe
that the Philosopher writes every line on the editorial page. The
managing editor is Whitelaw Reid, and the publisher Samuel Sinclair. Mr.
Reid succeeded Mr. John Russell Young, and the paper has profited by the
change. Mr. Sinclair is one of the most efficient publishers in the
land, and the _Tribune_ owes not a little of its success to his
genius--for that is the only name to give it. The editorial staff
comprises more ability than that of any other city journal, though some
of the others make a better use of the talent at their disposal. Its
correspondence, both domestic and foreign, is the best of all the city
papers--perhaps the best in the Union--and the list of its correspondents
contains some of the brightest names in literature.

The _Times_ is also a Republican journal, and aims to represent the
Administration of General Grant. Under the management of the late Henry
J. Raymond, a born journalist, it was a power in the land. Since Mr.
Raymond's death there has been a falling off in the ability, the
manliness, and the influence of the paper. It is owned by a stock
company, and is a profitable enterprise. The chief editor is Mr. Louis
Jennings, an Englishman, and formerly the New York correspondent of the
London _Times_. Mr. Jennings is a gentleman of ability and culture, and
a journalist of considerable experience. His chief needs are a decided
infusion of American ideas and sentiment, and a recognition of the
dissimilarity between the London and New York mode of viewing matters.
The publisher is Mr. George Jones.

The _Times_, under Mr. Raymond, was one of the freshest and most
thoroughly up to the times journals on the continent. Its
correspondence, especially that from Europe, was exceptionally good.
There has been a falling off in this respect of late. The circulation of
the paper is not known with certainty, but is believed to be about 30,000
or 35,000 copies.

The _World_ is the principal Democratic journal of the city, and aspires
to be the organ of the party throughout the country. It was begun about
the year 1859 as a religious paper, and is said to have sunk about
$300,000 for its projectors. It then became the organ of the Democracy
of the city, and has for some time paid well. It is the property of its
editor, Mr. Manton G. Marble. It is unquestionably one of the ablest
journals in the country. Its editorials are well written, indicative of
deep thought on the subjects treated of, and gentlemanly in tone. In
literary excellence, it is not surpassed by any city journal. It aims to
be in the front rank of the march of ideas, and makes a feature of
discussions of the leading scientific and social questions of the day.
It is lightened by a brilliant display of wit, and the "Funny Man of the
World" is well known in the city. The chief editor is Manton G. Marble.
He is the author of the majority of the leaders. In this he is ably
seconded by Mr. Chamberlain, one of the most forcible and successful
writers on the city press. Mr. Marble is not seen much in the office.
The _World_ rooms are connected with his residence in the upper part of
the city, by a private telegraph, by means of which he exercises a
constant supervision over the paper. The managing editor is Mr. David G.
Croly (the husband of "Jennie June"). He is a genius in his way. He
does not write much, but gives the greater part of the time to
superintending the work of the office. He is said to be extremely
fertile in suggesting themes for treatment to his brother editors. The
great faults of the _World_ are its devotion to sensation journalism, its
thick and thin Roman Catholic partizanism, and, strange to say, a little
too much looseness in the tone of its Sunday edition. Its circulation is
variously estimated at from 15,000 to 30,000. The exact number is known
only to the publisher.

The _Sun_ assumes to be the organ of the working classes, and claims a
circulation of 85,000 copies. It is a bright, sparkling journal, issued
at a cost of two cents. It is four pages in size, and has a fine list of
advertisements. It is owned by a stock company, who bought it from the
late Moses Y. Beach, its founder. The chief editor is Mr. Charles A.
Dana, a journalist of long experience, and one of the most thoroughly
cultivated men in the profession. He has made it a great success. It is
piquant, forcible, and good-natured. Mr. Dana is assisted by a corps of
able editorial writers and reporters, who are thoroughly impressed with
the wisdom of his policy. He is very sanguine of making a still greater
success of the Sun, and claims that he will yet run its circulation up to
200,000 copies.

The _Standard_ is the property of Mr. John Russell Young, formerly the
managing editor of the _Tribune_. It is a Republican organ, and is
struggling to reach an established and prosperous position. It is well
managed, and is conducted with considerable editorial ability.

The _Journal of Commerce_ is one of the few old-style papers left in New
York. It is a ponderous four-page sheet, depending more upon its
advertising than upon its circulation for its profits. It is edited with
ability, and as it employs but few editors and reporters, and cares but
little for general news, its publication is inexpensive. It is supplied
by a regular carrier, and is not sold on the news-stands. It is taken by
the leading hotels and by the down-town merchants, to whom it is valuable
because of its commercial reports. The general reader would find it dull
reading. It is one of the best paying papers in the city.

The _Star_ is a two cent paper, and was started at the time of the sale
of the _Sun_ to Mr. Dana and his associates, with the hope of securing
the patronage of the working classes. Its managing editor is Mr. Joseph
Howard. It is a sprightly paper, intensely Democratic in tone, and is
said to be prosperous.

The evening papers are much less influential than the morning journals,
but the best of them are very successful.

The _Evening Post_ heads the list. It is owned by William Cullen Bryant
& Co., and Mr. Bryant is the principal editor. It is the ablest and the
most influential of all the evening papers, and is one of the purest in
its tone of any of the American journals. It is taken chiefly in the
families of cultivated and professional men. Its book notices are
considered the most reliable. Its circulation and advertising patronage
are large, and it is a very profitable investment.

The _Commercial Advertiser_ is now under the control of the venerable
Thurlow Weed, and is a good paper.

The _Evening Express_ is the property of the brothers James and Erastus
Brooks. It is well managed, and well edited, and is regarded as ranking
next to the _Post_ in ability and general excellence. It is said to be
worth $40,000 per annum above expenses to its proprietors.

The _Evening Mail_ is younger than either of the others, but not far
behind the best of them in ability and interest. It has a decided
literary tone, and is one of the most enterprising news purveyors in the
city. It is now a thoroughly successful enterprise, and it deserves its
good fortune.

The _Telegram_ is little more than an evening edition of the Herald. It
is owned by James Gordon Bennett, jr., and is a lively sheet, full of
news and gossip. It sells for two cents, and has a large circulation.
Its first page always contains a rough, but sometimes spirited cartoon,
caricaturing some notable event of the day. It is a paying paper.

The _Evening News_ is a penny paper. It claims to have the largest
circulation in the city, and is said to be very profitable. It is
devoted almost exclusively to police news, and descriptions of crime, and
finds its readers chiefly among the lower and rougher portion of the
community. It is owned and conducted by Mr. Benjamin Wood.

The evening papers are generally issued in four editions, at one, two,
four and five o'clock in the afternoon. On occasions of unusual
interest, they often issue extras every hour until late in the night.
The evening papers contain the latest news and gossip, and a variety of
light and entertaining reading matter, and are bought chiefly by persons
who wish to read them at home after the cares and fatigues of the day are
over, or to kill time in the cars on their way home.

There are three daily morning papers published in the German language,
the _State Gazette_, the _Democrat_, and the _Journal_, and one evening
paper, the _Times_. The _Courier of the United States_, and
_Franco-American Messenger_, are issued in the French language. They are
also daily morning papers. All are well supported by the citizens
speaking the language they use.

II. WEEKLY PRESS.

Exclusive of the weekly editions of the daily journals, there are about
133 weekly papers published in the city of New York. Some of these are
literary journals, some political, some the organs of the various
religious bodies, and some devoted to the interests of trade and
manufactures.

The best known weeklies are the literary, religious, and political
papers, and of these the most noted are, _Harper's Weekly_, _Harper's
Bazaar_, _Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper_, the _Nation_, the
_Chimney Corner_, the _Ledger_, _Home Journal_, _Weekly Review_, _Sunday
Mercury_, _New York Weekly_, _Hearth and Home_, the_ Sunday News_, the_
Albion_, _Dispatch_, _Sunday Times_, _Citizen_, _Revolution_, _Spirit of
the Times_, and _Police Gazette_, among the secular papers. The most
prominent religious journals are the _Independent_, _Examiner_,
_Evangelist_, _Methodist_, _Observer_, _Tablet_, _Liberal Christian_,
_Christian Advocate_, _Christian Union_, _Christian Inquirer_, and
_Church Journal_.

The _Ledger_ has the largest circulation, having an actual sale of
300,000 copies per week. It is so well known throughout the country that
it would be superfluous to describe it here. It is the property of Mr.
Robert Bonner, who has reaped a large fortune from it. Next in
popularity is the _New York Weekly_, which is much inferior to the
_Ledger_, but which claims a circulation of over 200,000 copies. There
are about a dozen illustrated papers of various degrees of merit,
_Harper's Weekly_, the _Bazaar_, and _Frank Leslie's Illustrated
Newspaper_ head the list in popularity and worth. The first and second
claim a circulation of over one hundred thousand, and Frank Leslie claims
about seventy-five thousand for his paper. Some of the other illustrated
journals are simply indecent sheets, and should be suppressed. The
_Nation_ is regarded as the highest critical authority in the country,
and holds here very much the position of the _Saturday Review_ in London.

The literary journals are well conducted, and one will often find
articles of genuine merit in some of the most unpretending. The reason
is that journalists are unable to live on their salaries, as a rule, if
they be married men, and are forced to make up the deficiency by
contributing to the magazines and weekly papers. As a matter of course,
they must dispose of their wares wherever there is a market, and where
they are sure of being paid, even at starvation rates, for their labors.
From $2.50 to $5.00 per column is the rate of payment with the most of
the weeklies, and many men and women with whose names and labors the
literary world is familiar, are glad to write for them at this beggarly
price as a means of increasing their legitimate incomes. The number of
writers is very much in excess of the demand, and literature offers a
thorny road to the majority of its followers in the metropolis.

The Sunday papers are generally high priced and nasty. They are entirely
sensational in character, and are devoted to a class of news and
literature which can hardly be termed healthy. They revel in detailed
descriptions of subjects which are rigorously excluded from the daily
papers, and abound in questionable advertisements. All of which they
offer for Sabbath reading; and the reader would be startled to see into
how many reputable households these dirty sheets find their way.

XV. WALL STREET.

I. THE STREET.

WALL STREET begins on the east side of Broadway, opposite Trinity Church,
and terminates at the East River. It is about half a mile from the
extreme southern end of the island, and about the same distance from the
City Hall. It is a narrow street, about fifty feet in width, and slopes
gradually from Broadway to the river. It is lined on both sides with
handsome brown stone, yellow stone, granite, marble, iron, and brick
buildings, and the Treasury and Custom-House rear their magnificent
fronts about midway between the termini of the street. They are
diagonally opposite each other. The buildings are covered with a
multiplicity of signs, rivalling the edifices of Nassau street, in this
respect. Scarcely a house has less than a score of offices within its
walls, and some contain at least three times as many. Space is valuable,
and rents are high in Wall street, and many of the leading firms in it
have to content themselves with small, dark apartments, which a
conscientious man would hesitate to call an "office." The rents paid for
such quarters are enormous, and the buildings yield their owners large
incomes every year. The streets running into Wall street, on the right
and left, are also occupied for several blocks with the offices of
bankers and brokers, and are all included in the general term "Wall
street," or "The Street."

[Picture: WALL STREET.]

Wall street first appears in the history of the city as a portion of a
sheep pasture which was used in common by the inhabitants of New
Amsterdam. Its natural condition was partly rolling upland and partly
meadow of a swampy character. The name of the street originated thus:
About the middle of the seventeenth century, the English in the New
England colonies began to press heavily upon the Dutch in New
Netherlands, and kept the worthy burghers of New Amsterdam in a constant
dread of an invasion. Influenced by this feeling, the city authorities
resolved to fortify the place, and in 1653 constructed a wall or stockade
across the island, from river to river just beyond the line of the
village. This wall passed directly across the old sheep pasture.
Citizens were forbidden to build within 100 feet of the stockade, this
open space being reserved for the movements of troops. It soon became a
prominent highway, and the eastern portion has since remained so. The
anticipated attack on the city was not made, but the wall was kept in
good condition. Houses crept up close to the wall on the city side, and
began to appear on the opposite side just under the wall. Thus a new
street was formed, through which ran the old stockade. The open space
along the wall was originally called _The Cingel_, signifying "the
ramparts." Soon after the town reached the limit of the military
reservation, persons residing here were spoken of as living "long de
Wal," and from this the street came to be called "the Wall street," which
name it has ever since borne. The wall having fallen into decay, was
demolished about the year 1699, and its stones were used in the
construction of the old City Hall, which stood at the intersection of
Wall and Nassau streets, the site now occupied by the Sub-Treasury of the
United States. The old building was used for the various purposes of the
city government until the close of the Revolution. It contained, besides
the council and court rooms, a jail for the detention and punishment of
criminals, a debtors' prison, which was located in the attic, a
fire-engine-room, a cage and a pillory. A pair of stocks was set up on
the opposite side of the street, wherein criminals were exposed to the
indignant gaze of the virtuous public.

At the close of the Revolution, the City Hall was enlarged and improved
for the use of the General Government. It thus became the first capitol
of the new Republic, and was known as Federal Hall. The first Congress
of the United States assembled within its walls in the year 1789, and
upon its spacious portico, in the presence of an immense multitude,
George Washington took the oath to support and defend the constitution as
first President of the United States.

Wall street was originally taken up with private residences, and the old
views represent it as well shaded with trees. Even as late as 1830 it
presented a very rural appearance between Broadway and William street.
Prior to the Revolution, the lower part of the street had been built up
with stores as far as Front street, and had become the centre of
mercantile affairs in the city, the row of stores on Wall street being
the first erected beyond Water street. About the year 1792, the old
Tontine Coffee House was erected on the northwest corner of Wall and
Water streets, and this became the favorite rendezvous for the city
merchants, by whom, indeed, it was erected and controlled. In 1791 the
Bank of New York was located at the corner of William street, and marked
the first encroachment upon the strictly private portion of the street.
It was also the first effort to make this locality the centre of the
financial operations of the city. Other institutions and private bankers
soon followed, and the character and architecture of the street began to
undergo a change. The work of improvement went on steadily, and the Wall
street of to-day is the result. Famous lawyers have also had their
offices in this street. Alexander Hamilton's sign might once have been
seen here, not far from where his humble monument now stands in Trinity
Churchyard, and the name of Caleb Cushing is still to be found near a
doorway just below Broadway.

[Picture: UNITED STATES SUB-TREASURY.]

"In 1700 a house and lot on the southeast corner of Wall and Broad
streets, 16 x 30, sold for 163 pounds. In 1706 a house and lot on the
north of Wall street, 25 x 116, sold for 116 pounds. In 1737 a house and
lot on the north of Wall street, 62 x 102, sold for 110 pounds. In 1793,
the dwelling and lot of General Alexander Hamilton, on the south of Wall
street, 42 x 108, sold for 2400 pounds. In 1794 a house and lot, 44 x
51, sold for 2510 pounds." At present the ground included in these sites
is held at hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The street fairly began its present career i