COLUMBIA LIBRARIES OFFSITE 
 
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THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY; 
 
 oie. 
 
 HIGH AND LOW LIFE 1 NEW YORK. 
 
 A MIRROR Of the: gre:at me:tropous. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE TRADE. 
 
 OOpyrightfU iHt ?, S ^^J^^ by F. M.LrpTox. 
 
r 
 
 Ex ICtbrts 
 
 SEYMOUR DURST 
 
 -# ' 7(T/-^ nf^-iMc ^Sm/^ertus-m. cy af MtrtJtatans 
 
 When you leave, please leave this book 
 
 Because it has been said 
 "Sver'thing comes t' him who waits 
 
 £y:cept a loaned book." 
 
 r 
 
 AvF.RY Architectural and Fine Arts Library 
 Gil T OF Seymour B. Durst Old York Library 
 
on. 
 
 HIGH AlTD Z.O'TO' LIFE ZIT ITEVT VORZI. 
 
 NEW YORK CITY. 
 
 The inetropolia of the New World has an area 
 ot about twenty-seven thousand acres, and a 
 population of probably more than a million and 
 a qnarter. It is divided into twentv-four wards. 
 Of the total foreign commerce o"f the United 
 States, about sixty per cent, passes through the 
 port of New York, in round numbers to about the 
 value of four hundred million out of a total of 
 .SIX hundred million dollars per annum. The 
 indications are that immigrants to the number of 
 approaching half a million will land in the city 
 during the present year. lu domestic trade and 
 manufactures, while the value of its retail trade 
 is unascertainable, that of the total product of 
 Its manufactures per annum approximates lour 
 hundred million of dollars, more or less. The 
 value of the real and personal property ofthe 
 _ city for the purposes of taxation is about a bil- 
 lion and a quarter of dollars. New York is the 
 i?rand center of the banking and insurance buai- 
 ariss of the United States. Four million dollars 
 are spent annually m support of those educa- 
 tional institutions of the city which are incorpor- 
 ated by the State, or make report to constituted 
 authorities. Besides these are many other in- 
 stitutions which aid culture, including the Coop- 
 er Institute, twenty-threo libraries of reference 
 ^\.\ The principal societies for the promotion 
 ofthe fine arts are the National Academy of De- 
 sign the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Art 
 Students League, and the Studio Art Building 
 Association. There are nearly five hundred 
 newspapers and periodicals published in New 
 York and about as manv places of religious 
 worship, of which the largest number belong to 
 the Protestant Episcopal Church. The charities 
 of IN ew York are munificent, receiving and dis- 
 pensing m the neighborhood of three million 
 dollars yearly. While New York, a compara- 
 tively young city, does not possess the architect- 
 ural majesty of the older great ciHes of the 
 T^orld, in the point of its domestic architecture it 
 13 prob&bly second to none, thougU the want of 
 
 THE NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN BRIDGE. 
 
 variety in the style in which its houses are built 
 is to be regretted. Their convenience and ap- 
 pointments are very superior. The finest and 
 most beautiful public building is the City Hall, 
 which was finished in 1803. St. Paul's Church 
 is very notably fine architecturally. Trinity 
 Church, also down town, is an imposing struc- 
 ture. The new post-office building, the building 
 of the Western Union Telegraph Company, and 
 that of the Tribune newspaper are, perhaps, the 
 most remarkable structures in the southern or 
 down-towu portion of the city. Up-town are 
 many magnificent hotels and club-rooms, and the 
 building known as the Lennox Library, which is 
 situated on Fifth Avenue and commands a flne 
 view of Central Park. More than a thousand 
 acres of the area of the city are laid out as parks, 
 of which the Central Park is the largest and the 
 most interesting. It covers eight hundred and 
 sixtv-two acres, and has nice entrances. The 
 park is laid out in walks, drives, lakes, avenues, 
 terraces, and buildings, with consummate skill, 
 and is regarded with great pride by the citizens. 
 While the streets of New York are, as a whole, 
 badly paved and not so well kept as they ought 
 to be, Broadway and Fifth Avenue are among the 
 finest thoroughfares in the world. Its watei-- 
 works are inadequate to the population, and 
 steps have been taken in the direction of im- 
 provement. The meanness and inadequacy of 
 the public markets have been modified to a de- 
 gree by the recent erection of the new structure 
 at the foot of Fulton Street, East Eiver, which is 
 regarded as a model market building. New 
 Amsterdam, founded in 1614 by the Dutch, was 
 the origin of New York. In 1664 it feU into the 
 hands of the English, and was named New York, 
 in honor of the brother of King Charles 11 of 
 England— James, Duke of York— who afterward 
 became King James II. The Dutch recaptured 
 it in 1673, and changed its name to New Orange. 
 One year afterward it was restored to the Eng- 
 lish by treaty and its English name was resumed. 
 During the War of Independence it was taken 
 by the A.merican army, who left it after the dis- 
 
 astrous battle of Long Island. After the peace 
 of 1783 the British evacuated it, as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 In 1789 George Washington was inaugurated 
 in New York, the first President of the United 
 States. A steam ferry was introduced between 
 New York and Jersey City in 1812. In 1825 the 
 city was first lighted with gas. The visitation of 
 cholera la 1832 was succeeded by the great fire 
 of 1835, which destroyed twenty million dollars' 
 worth of property. In 1842 the Croton Aqueduct 
 was completed. The riots of 1863 were conse- 
 quent upon the United States authorities en- 
 deavoring to enforce the draft. New York fur- 
 nished in all 1,161,382 to the Government during 
 the Civil War. Biota in 1871 and the panic of 
 1873 are among recent events of importance. 
 The first was occasioned by an attack of Catholic 
 upon Protestant Irishmen, who were peacefully 
 celebrating the anniversary of the battle of the 
 Boyne. At the present time New York is mak- 
 ing rapid progress in wealth and population. 
 At the census of 1880 the population was found 
 to be 1,206,209, of whom only 727,629 were native 
 born 
 
 THE NEW YOEK AND BROOKLYN BRIDGE. 
 
 The completion of the grandest piece of bridge 
 engineering the world has yet seen necessarily 
 attracted attention, not only in the immediate vi- 
 cinity of the work, but throughout the civilized 
 world; not only from curious sight-seers, but 
 from those who labor for the advancement of 
 their fellows, and rejoice in the success of a stu- 
 pendous undertaking. 
 
 On the 16th of April, 1867, the Legislature ol 
 New York passed an act incorporating the New 
 York Bridge Company, lor the purpose ot build- 
 ing a bridge over the East Kiver between the 
 cities of New Y'ork and Brooklyn. On the 23d of 
 the following May, John A. Roebling was ap- 
 pointed chief engineer, and toward the close of 
 the same year made his report, discussing a( 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE CiTY. 
 
 •«ome length the three routes, and the practica- 
 bility of building suspended bridges ol long 
 span. The charter fixed the Brooklyn terminus 
 at the junction of Main and Fulton streets, but 
 allowed the New York terminus to be at or be- 
 
 ■ low Chatham Square, but not south of the junc- 
 
 I tion of Chatham and Nassau streets. Consider- 
 ing the value of the property to be condemned, 
 the grades, the drtference in the cost, and the 
 
 ' fact that City Hall Park would remain the center 
 of travel for many years, it was thought best to 
 build on the park line. During the summer of 
 1869, a detailed survey of the route was made, 
 and the Brooklyn tower located. It was while 
 engaged in this work that Mr. Roebling met 
 with a most serious accident. His right foot 
 was crushed by the shock of a ferry-boat against 
 the fender rack of spring piles on which he was 
 standing. Lockjaw set in, and after siKteen days 
 of extreme suffering terminated in his death. 
 In August of the same year his so , Washington 
 A. Roebling, was appointed chief engineer. 
 
 The plan of the bridge was approved by the 
 Secretary of War, and under date of June 21, 
 1869, the chief of engineers wrote to the com- 
 pany stating that under no conditions must the 
 center of the span be less than 135 feet above 
 mean high water; no portion of the tower foun-. 
 dations above the river bed must project beyond 
 the pier lines, and no guys must ever be at- 
 tached to the mam span 
 which will he below the 
 bottom chords of the 
 bridge. 
 
 Au act was passed 
 June 5, 1874, changing 
 the name to that of the 
 New York and Brooklyn 
 Bridge, and making it a 
 public work to be con- 
 structed by the two 
 citiee, Brooklyn paying 
 two-thirde of the cost, 
 and New York one-third. 
 Taken as a whole, the 
 bridge consists of the 
 approaches, one at each 
 terminus; station build- 
 mgs at the extreme ends; 
 au anchorage at the end 
 of each approacli, to 
 which the fxjur cables 
 are fastened; two towers 
 over which the cables 
 pass. To the cables are 
 secured ropes on which 
 haug sis systems of lon- 
 gitudinal trusses, con- 
 nected transversely by 
 floor beams, diyiding the 
 width of the bridge into 
 two roadways, two car- 
 wavs, and one prome- 
 nacle. 
 
 Work was commenced 
 on the foundation of the 
 Brooklyn tower ou Jan- 
 uary 3, 1870. BoringH, 
 made previously, show- 
 ed gneiss rock at a 
 depth of ninety-six feet 
 below high water, above 
 which were layers of 
 
 hardpan and trap bowlde __ 
 
 and sand. This was considered compact enough 
 to form a satisfactory foundation without going 
 more than forty-five or fifty feet below the sur- 
 face of the water. Timber immersed in salt wa- 
 ter is, practically, imperishable, and if placed 
 below the bottom of the river will be out of^ reach 
 of sea worms. It was therefore decided, in or- 
 der to secure a bed of uniform character, to 
 
 , build a solid timber fcmndation, having strength 
 Butficient to act as a beam, and weight to insure 
 
 . even settling. The magnitude and importance 
 of this feature in the great work becomeh appar- 
 ent when it 18 known that it would bo called 
 
 . upon to susta^ a dead weight of some eighty 
 thousand tons. 
 The Caisson was an immense box having a 
 
 J roof and sides, but no bottom, so that when it 
 was placed over the site and sunk, the water 
 would not rise in the interior beyond the edges, 
 thus forming an air chamber in which the men 
 were free to work. The caisson was 102 feet 
 wide, 168 feet long, the height of the air cham- 
 ber being 9 1-2 feet. A section through the 
 Bides formed a V, the inner slope of which had 
 »n angle of 45 degrees, and the outside of all the 
 walls had a batter of 1 in 10. The walls sloped 
 down to an edge or shoe, formed by a semi-cir- 
 cular casting, protected by boiler plate extend- 
 iMf! three feet up the sides. The tmibers form- 
 »g the Y were held togetlier by drift and screw 
 
 bolts, and secured to the roof by angle irons 
 and common timbers. The roof, upon which 
 the tower was to rest, consisted of fifteen courses 
 of Georgia pine timbers twelve inches square, 
 alternate courses being laid in the same direc- 
 tion, and the pieces bolted both horizontally and 
 vertically. To make the caisson au'-tight, the 
 seams were thoroughly calked, and in addition 
 a vast sheet of tin was inserted between the 
 fourth and fifth courses and down the four sides. 
 There were shafts cut through the roof of the 
 caisson for the passage of the laborers, and to 
 take out the excavated material and admit sup- 
 
 Elies. There were two water shafts made of 
 oUer plate three-eighths of an inch thick, and 
 having a rectangular section seven feet by six 
 and one-half feet. These shafts were open"both 
 above and below, and the lower end extended 
 below the edge of the shoe for twenty-one inches. 
 Through these shafts descended dredges which 
 grappled and raised any substance placed be- 
 neath the opening. There were two air shafts, 
 three and one-half feet in diameter, having au 
 air-lock at each upper end, for the use of the 
 men. The supply shafts were cylindrical, twen- 
 ty-four inches in diameter, and furnished with 
 two doors, one above and one below. To admit 
 material the lower door was closed, and the 
 tube filled with the desired objects, after which 
 the upper door was closed. The valve to the 
 
 embedded in clay 
 
 KLEV.\TED BAILW.W. 
 
 equalizing pipe was then opened, and as soon as 
 the air pressure in the tube was equal to that in 
 the chamber, the lower door was opened, when 
 the materials fell into the chamber. All the 
 doors to the air-locks, as well as those to the 
 shafts, fitted closely and swung into the cham- 
 ber having the greater air pressure. Five mas- 
 sive frames or walls divided the air chamber 
 of the caisson into six compartments. When 
 this great box had been finished, it was launched 
 and towed to its future resting-place. 
 
 Dunng the building of the caisson the site of 
 the foundation had been cleared, and a rectan- 
 gular space a little larger than the caisson, and 
 having a depth of water sufticiont to float it, had 
 been prepared. On ilay 1, 1870, the caisson 
 was towetl down, and on the following day was 
 warped into position. The tower proper was 
 now commenced on the top of this caisson, but it 
 was not until three courses of masonry had been 
 laid that the caisson was weighted sufficiently to 
 rest firmly on the bottom and resist the action of 
 the tides. Six air compressors had been placed 
 on the surface for the purpose of supplying air 
 to the air chamber of the caisson. The pressure 
 in this chamber was kept equal to the hydrostatic 
 head, differences in the materials passed through 
 making slight deviations from this rule neces- 
 sarj'. The work of excavating was carried on 
 from the chamber, all obstructions being re- 
 moved irom under the shoes and frames. At 
 
 the same time the masonry was being laid on 
 top with the aid of boom derricks and engines. 
 When bowlders were encountered too large for 
 easy handhug, they were pulled out of the way 
 by hydraulic jacks, then drilled and blasted. 
 The blast produced no ill efifecta on the men, al- 
 though some trouble was anticipated owing to 
 the dense atmosphere. 
 
 Gradually but surely the caisson sank toward 
 its final resting-place, while the tower grew 
 above it. At the end of five months 20,000 ^ard& 
 of earth had been removed. As the caisson 
 proceeded downward the disproportion between 
 the load above and the buoyancy became more 
 and more, and to support tbis overweight addi- 
 tional shores were introduced, which rested 
 upon a block and wedges and supported a cap 
 placed against the roof. When the caisson had 
 reached within three feet of its journey's end, 71 
 brick piers were built, having bases averaging 
 20 square feet. These had sti-ength enough to 
 uphold the whole mass if the air pressure should 
 from any cause be removed. When the caisson 
 had reached a depth of 44 1-2 feet below mean 
 high tide, the operation of filhng the entire 
 chamber with concrete was begun. The con- 
 crete consisted of one part of Rosendale cement, 
 two of sand, and three of small-sized gravel. 
 Tbe total quantity required, including the brick 
 piers, was about 4,000 yards. 
 
 The danger from fire 
 in an atmosphere of 
 compressed air is very 
 great, and the difficulty 
 of quickly subduing it 
 makes every known pre- 
 caution necessar}-. At 
 a pressure of tweiity-hve 
 pounds to the square 
 luch, the flame ol a can- 
 dle wUl return after hav- 
 ing been blown out. On 
 December 2d a tire was 
 discovered in the cais- 
 son after it had been go- 
 ing some hours and at- 
 tain ed considerable 
 headway. Streams of 
 water, steam, and car- 
 bomc acid were succes- 
 sively tried, but availed 
 nothing. After strug- 
 gling unsuccessfully lor 
 some time the caisson 
 was flooded, and left so 
 for two and a half days. 
 When the air was again 
 admitted and the water 
 expelled, about 200 bor- 
 ings were made in the 
 roof to ascertam the ex- 
 tent of the fire. Verti- 
 cally it was confined to 
 the third, fourth, and 
 fifth courses of timber, 
 but laterally it extended 
 to points fifty feet apart. 
 Holes were made in the 
 roof, the charcoal 
 scraped from e.very 
 burnea stick, and the 
 holes filled with cement. 
 In order to prevent any 
 settling at this point, a pier of square blocks of 
 trap rock was built directly under the space 
 burned. Cleaning and filling the burned sec- 
 tion occupied eighteen carpenters, working day 
 and night, two mouths, besides common labor. 
 
 The Brooklyn caisson, completed, contained 
 250 toHS of iron and 111,000 cubic feet of timber. 
 The New York tower is located in a direct line 
 from the Brooklvn one, perpendicular to the 
 stream, and at a distance of 1,595 1-2 feet. Bor- 
 ings on the site did not encounter rock before 
 reaching a depth of from seventy-seven to nine- 
 ty-two feet below high water, and as extensive 
 beds of quicksand rested on the rock, it was ne- 
 cessary to go to It for a firm foundation. As this 
 caisson would ultimately be subjected to a much 
 greater pressure than the one upon the other 
 side, the dimensions were made 102 by 172 feet. 
 The roof was twenty-two feet thick, surmounted 
 by a cofler dam reaching to high water mark, 
 thus increasing the buovancy and lessening the 
 pressure on the frames during the sinking. The 
 air chamber was nine and one-half feet high, 
 and divided into six compartments. The interior 
 of the chamber was lined with boiler iron, rivet- 
 ed together and calked. This lining made the 
 chamber air-tight and guarded against fire. 
 Two sets of double air-locks were built into the 
 roof of the caisson, each being six and one-half 
 feet in diameter bv eight feet in height. 
 There were four supply shafts, two of which 
 
 ^1 \ 
 
 1 
 J 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 were twenty-four inclies in diameter and two 
 ijveuty-one inches. Tlie caisson was sunk to a 
 <Iepth of seventy-eight feet iu a manner very 
 similar to that pursued on the other side, but 
 owing to the nature of the material passed 
 through, sand pumps were introduced, which 
 utilized the air pressure in the chamber to force 
 the sand out through tubes. The air chamber 
 was filled as in the other case, except that the 
 brick piers were deemed superfluous, owing 
 to the greater strength. The New York caisson 
 contained 180 tons of bolts, 200 tons of iron work, 
 and 118,000 cubic feet of timber. 
 
 The tower is not a eoUd mass of masonry, but 
 consists of three buttressed shafts, joined to- 
 grther up to the roadway by four connecting 
 walls. In the Brooklyn tower the course next 
 the caisson is seventeen feet thick; the thickness 
 diminishes by oflfsets until at high water it is but 
 ten and one-half feet. This forms two well 
 holes, which are filled with concrete below water 
 line, but left open up to the roadway. Spaces 
 were also left from two feet above the arches to 
 ■within tour and one half feet of the top of the 
 tower. In one of the wide shafts is a small verti- 
 cal opening two feet five in- 
 ches by three feet, connect- 
 ing with one of these small 
 spaces. By means of a 
 trap and iron ladder access 
 can always be had to the 
 roof. Above the roadway 
 the tower consists of three 
 columns havmg an oblong 
 section, and united at the 
 top by arches having a 
 span of thirty-nine and 
 three-fourths inches. The 
 points of the arches are 
 114 1-3 feet above the 
 L roadway. The arches are 
 X ' pointed and are formed by 
 the intersection of two arcs 
 of circles having a radius 
 of forty-eight and one-sixth 
 feet. 
 
 In order to guard against 
 any possible changes of 
 fbrm, heavy irons were in- 
 3erted in the masonry and 
 rods placed across the 
 span. The masonry of the 
 towers below water is 
 largely hmestone, except 
 the lacing of the two upper 
 courses, which is granite. 
 The backing above high 
 water to the roadway is 
 mostly granite, and all the 
 remainder of the work is 
 granite. To raise the stones 
 from the yard at the foot 
 of the tower to the work, 
 engines driving d rums 
 ■were used. About the 
 ■drums was wound a rope 
 ■which passed over a pulley 
 on the top of the completed 
 course of the tower. A 
 lewis having been put iu 
 the stone to be raised, it 
 ■was attached to the rope 
 and hoisted to the top. 
 Here a car running on rails 
 projecting over the edge 
 was run under, and the 
 stone lowered on it. Hav- 
 ing reached the tower, 
 the derricks carried it to 
 
 ite destination. Upon the upper portion of the 
 work balance derricks were used instead of the 
 boom derricks. 
 
 The vertical dimensions of the towers are as 
 follows: 
 
 Height of roadway above mean high tide, 
 119 1^ feet; height of springing of arches above 
 high tide, 198 feet; height of springing of arches 
 .ibove roadway, seventy- nine and one-fourth feet; 
 height of ridge of roof stone, 271 1-2 feet. The 
 height of the ridge of roof stone of the Brooklyn 
 tower above bottom of foundation is 316 feet. In 
 the New York tower the height of ridge of roof 
 13 349 1-2 feet. A balustrade around the towers 
 will increase the height to 276 feet above tide. 
 
 The following are some of the horizontal meas- 
 urements: At the top of the caisson the Brooklyn 
 tower is 151 by forty-nine feet and the New 
 York towor is 157 by seventy-sefen feet; at high 
 water the Brooklyn tower "is fifty-seven Ijy 141 
 feet, and the other fifty-nine by 141 feet. 
 
 At these points the towers have a soUd section. 
 At the base of the three shafts, or roadway, the 
 Brooklyn tower is forty-five by 131 feet; at the 
 .^prtnging of the arches, forty-two and one-half 
 
 by 128 1-2 feet; at the base of the upper cornice 
 it IS forty by 126 feet. The openings m the tow- 
 ers are thirty-three and three-fourths feet wide. 
 Above high water the New York tower differs 
 from the other by an increase of three feet in 
 thickness in the direction of the axis of the 
 bridge. The total weight of the Brooklyn tower, 
 masonry and timber, is 93,079 tons. The great- 
 est pressure at any point in the tower masonry 
 will be at the base ot the central shaft above the 
 roadway; this will be about twenty-six tons to 
 the squarefoot, or 361 pounds per square inch. 
 
 At a distance of 930 feet from each tower is 
 an anchorage designed merely to resist the pull 
 of the cables which pass over the towers. These 
 rest on timber foundations, the spaces between 
 the sticks being filled with concrete. The ma- 
 sonry of the Brooklyn anchorage is four feet 
 above tide, while the other is at high tide level. 
 The Brooklyn foundation is 119 1-3 bv 132 feet. 
 New York foundation, 119 1-3 by i;« teet. The 
 masonry is similar. The work is solid with the 
 exception of two openings, or tunnels, iu the 
 river side, which are arched by semicircular 
 arches of twenty-three feet span, springing at 
 
 BROADWAY. 
 
 from sixty-two to sixty-six feet above hde. The 
 anchorages are about ninety feet high above tide 
 level. They are built of hmestone and granite. 
 The Brooklyn anchorage contains 27,113 cubic 
 yards of masonry; the New York, 28,803 cubic 
 yards. 
 
 In the end of each anchorage farthest from 
 the towers are four anchor plates (one for each 
 end of ea(^ cable), which are held down by the 
 dead weight of masonry piled upon them, and 
 to which the cables are attached. The anchor- 
 plates in the Brooklyn anchorage are placed 
 8 feet above tide, and those in New Y'ork 6 feet. 
 These plates are cast-iron, 2 1-2 feet thick at 
 the center, and measure 16 1-2 by 17 1-2 feet on 
 the surface. In form they much resemble an 
 enormous wheel, having a massive hub and six- 
 teen spokes, but no r;m. Each plate weighs 
 about twenty-three tons. The cables enter the 
 comer of the anchorage diagonally opposite the 
 
 Elates, and after traversing a short distance 
 orizontally, make a curve of about ninety de- 
 grees to the plates. The wires composing the 
 cable do not come much beyond the comer of 
 the tower, the connection between them and the 
 
 plates being made by anchor bars. These barx 
 start in double sets from each plate, one curviug 
 over the other, and are vertical for a distance of 
 about twenty-five feet, wlien they curve about 
 ninety degrees on a circle having a radius of 
 forty-nine and one-halt feet. They then extend 
 to within twenty-five feet of the front of the ma- 
 sonry, where they meet the cable wires. The 
 bars have an average length of twelve and one- 
 half feet; the first three seta have a section of 
 7x3 inches, the next three 8x3, the next three 
 9x3 inches; the tenth set is double iu number, 
 and each 1 1-2 x 9 inches section. 
 
 The total weight of the suspended superstruc- 
 ture, including cables, trusses, suspeudem, 
 braces, timber, flooring, steel rails, etc., is 14,- 
 680 tons; and the transitorv load is estimated at 
 3,100 tons, making the total weight of the bridge 
 17,780 tons. 
 
 The approach on the Brooklyn side is 900 feet 
 long on the center line, and commences at street 
 grade at Sands street, rising 2.85 feet per 100 to 
 the rear of the anchorage, where it is sixty feet 
 above ground. It is crossed by several streets, 
 and has one curve at about 200 feet from Sands 
 street. It is 100 feet wide 
 throughout. All liie streets 
 are crossed by box or plate 
 girders. The New York 
 approach is 1,546 long, 
 commencing at grade at 
 Chatham street, and rising 
 3.25 feet per 100 to the rear 
 of the anchorage, where it 
 is sixty-eight feet above 
 ground. It is 100 feet wide 
 for about 500 feet of the 
 distance, and eighty-five 
 feet for the remainder. At 
 Franklin Square is an. 
 opening measuring, 210 
 feet on one side and 170 
 on* the other, which is 
 spanned by a truss bridge. 
 The other streets are 
 crossed by semicircular 
 stone arches. The ap- 
 proaches are a series of 
 arches resting on heavy 
 piers with fronts .entirely 
 of granite. The cornice 
 over the arches has a dent- 
 il course below, surmount- 
 ed by a heavy projecting 
 coping course. The cor- 
 nice is surmounted by an 
 ornamental granite para- 
 pet, four feet high. The 
 arches in the approaches 
 will be fitted up for ■ware- 
 houses, and in order to 
 sustain great weight the 
 floor beams will be of steel 
 and wrought iron. 
 
 Both the station build- 
 ings are constructed of 
 iron. The viaduct to ac- 
 commodate passengers at 
 the Brooklyn end is about 
 600 feet long. Beginning 
 at Sands street it is fifty- 
 six feet wide (the two 
 passage ways for vehicles 
 are at either side ot the 
 building) for 205 feet, of 
 which 185 feet is roofed 
 r,ud inclosed on the sides. 
 This forms a building, the 
 ground floor of which is 
 used by foot passengers, with the exception of 
 a waiting-room, 60x18 feet, on the left as we 
 enter. The next floor is at a height of about 
 twenty feet above Sands street, and contains 
 thVee lines of rails in the central space and two 
 capacious passenger platforms, one at each side, 
 and raised 2 1^ feet above the rails. These 
 platforms extend to some distance beyond the 
 end of the building. The sides of the building 
 from the main floor to the eaves of the roof are 
 of ornamental cast-iron work and glass. The 
 lantern framing is over the center of nearly the 
 whole length of the buildmg, and is fourteen 
 feet wide by three feet high. The car passen- 
 gers enter the waiting-room below, pass up wide 
 stairs to the platform, and enter cars on the 
 right track. Incoming passengers get ofi' on the 
 other side. 
 
 The New York station is twenty feet long by 
 fifty-two and one-sixth wide; the height to peak 
 of "small roof at rear end is fifty-two and one- 
 half feet, at front end sixty-one feet. The gen- 
 eral arrangement is very similar to that of the 
 other station. 
 The twentj'-four cars are like those now in. 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 use on the elevated roads of New York. They 
 are 44 feet between couphngs, 9 1-2 feet wide 
 from out to out, and will comfortably seat forty- 
 eight passengers. 
 
 THE ELEVATED RAILWAYS. 
 
 From Matthew Hale Smith's popular work, en- 
 titled " Sunshine and Shadow in New York," 
 published by the J. B. Burr Publishing Co., 
 Hartford, Conn., we extract the following de- 
 scription of the Elevated Railways: 
 
 For years and years the New York newspapers, 
 merchants, bankers, brokers, and people gener- 
 ally who lived up town and did business down 
 town, discussed all sorts of plans lor securing 
 more rapid transit than omnibuses or the street 
 railways afforded trom one end of the island to 
 the other. Underground roads for steam pro- 
 pelled cars wore projected, and one was actually 
 tunneled for a short distance under Broadway. 
 At last it was discovered 
 that the best present and 
 most practicable means of 
 travel was above, rather 
 than on, or even under the 
 street, and this determined, 
 the great boon of rapid tran- 
 sit was soon secured. It 
 would have cost millions to 
 remove sewers and gas and 
 water pipes, or to change 
 thsir direction, and millions 
 more to secure the right of 
 way under foundations, 
 blocks and buildings for an 
 underground road. Such a 
 scheme was impracticable, 
 il not impossible. 
 
 The first of the new roads 
 from the Battery to Central 
 Park and beyond was open- 
 ed June 5, 1878, and on the 
 
 ■ first day 2.5,000 persons 
 availed themselves of this 
 novel means of travel. Run- 
 ning through some of the 
 
 ■ side streets on the west side 
 of the city till it reached the 
 broad Sixth Avenue, thence 
 
 I lo Central Park, live miles 
 
 - from the starting point, it 
 
 ■■ Was pushed as rapidly as it 
 could be built to the Har- 
 lem River. Very soon after- 
 wards, the same corpora- 
 tion built another road on 
 the east side of the city, also 
 extending from the Battery, 
 till it reached the Bowery 
 and then through Third 
 Avenue to Harlem. And as 
 soon as the immenso advan- 
 tage of thoso up-iii-the-air 
 roads was seen, still other 
 branches shot upward, till 
 now the main thoroughfares 
 are fairly gridironed with 
 these elevated iron roadp. 
 It is as if the lower part of 
 the city were the palm of a 
 great hand with gigantic 
 iron fingers stretclicd out to 
 grasp Westchester county. 
 
 The pillars which sup- 
 port the roads are rolled 
 iron set deep in the ground 
 beyond the reach of dis- 
 placement by frost, and all 
 the supports and girders, though seemingly light 
 and frail, are secure and substantial. Where the 
 streets are narrow the roadway is bridged across 
 by girders from side to side; in the broad Bow- 
 
 . cry the tracks are carried on rows of pillars 
 close to the curb on each side of the street; and 
 in Third and Sixth Avenues they rest on columns 
 
 . at each side of the surface railroads, and are 
 bridged at the top by iron girders. The roads are 
 not ornamental to the city. They spoil the 
 
 ^ fronts of many fine buildings. They destroy the 
 privacy of second floor tenements past which thev 
 run. The smoke blown into the windows, and 
 ashes, water and oil dropped into the street, and 
 in some places on the sidewalks, occasion much 
 complaint; they darken some stores and places 
 •f business, particularly at the corners where 
 the stations and stairways to the same are erect- 
 ed; the noise of the cars is a nuisance; and the 
 companies pay nothing for real or assumed dam- 
 ages to private property, and not a dollar to the 
 eity for the privilege of using and running over 
 tlie ciOEt puulic thoroughfares. But the advan- 
 
 tages in rapid transit, in the increased value of 
 up town property, and the constantly increasing 
 trade and population by bringing back thousands 
 who have been forced to live out of the city, but 
 who now find tenements at reasonable rents on 
 the upper end of the island, more than compen- 
 sate for all the real or imaginary damage tnese 
 roads have done to individuals or the city. 
 
 The stations on these roads occur at Irequent 
 intervals, so that houses can be reached within 
 a block or two almost anywhere, and the routes 
 are available for short as well as long distances. 
 The cars are superbly furnished with spring 
 cushion seats handsomely upholstered, and 
 ranged on each side of the length of the car so as 
 to give a wide passage through the middle for 
 entrance and exit. Nicely carpeted floors, plate 
 glass windows with adjustable bhnds, and neat 
 ornamentation throughout, make the cars attrac- 
 tive to passengers, and the absolute security for 
 the safety of the traveler renders accidents of 
 any kind very rare. Nervous people may fear 
 
 going and coming to and from their houses to 
 their work or places of business is an immense 
 advantage. The city population has been in- 
 creased by thousands by bringmg back these 
 people. Trade of all sorts which goes to feed, 
 furnish, and supply these lamihes with the dailv 
 necessaries of life is proporaonally benefited". 
 The immense advantage in real estate has nor 
 only enriched individuals, but has added to the 
 revenues ot the city; and the extensive building 
 enterprises, which will go on till all the vacant 
 spaces are covered with streets and houses, give 
 employmant to thousands of mechanics and day- 
 laborers. The large slice of Westchester county 
 recently comprised within the city limits became 
 immediately valuable by means of rapid convey- 
 ance thereto, and the elevated railways have 
 added incalculably to the growth and wealth of 
 the city and to the convenience and comfort of 
 the people. The whole upper part of the city is 
 now as accessible to the citizen or the strang<?r as 
 Union Square used to be v?hen the only means of 
 transit were the street cars 
 and omnibuses. 
 
 One curious efiect of 
 these roads upon certain 
 kinds of retail trade, was 
 noticed within a year after 
 their opening. "Men who 
 had moved their stores and 
 shops from down town, 
 found that either they had 
 not moved up far enough, 
 or that they had better 
 move back again to their 
 o 1 d locations. Business 
 men do not stop to make 
 retail purchases on their 
 way home, as heretofore. 
 Either they buy at shops 
 near their owii place of 
 business, or wait till the 
 cars take them to places 
 near their homes. Hence 
 book, picture and similar 
 stores flourish in Nassau 
 Street, and first-class tailor 
 and shoe shops do a good 
 business, even in Broad- 
 and other down town 
 streets. 
 
 THE GREAT BUILDINGS 
 AND OTHER LEADIITG 
 FEATURES OF NEW 
 YORK. 
 
 .«U^y^j^ 
 
 THE C08TO1I HOrsE, NEW TOBE. 
 
 that the cars might run off the track and tumble 
 down into the street; but there are sure safe- 
 guards against that or any accident that might 
 occur from a broken axle or wheel. Millions of 
 people securely travel every year over these ele- 
 vated roads, which combine safety with speed. 
 The trains run between the stations at the rate 
 of thirty miles an hour, and for the «hole dis- 
 tance, making all the stops to let off and take on 
 passengers, at the rate of^ sixteen miles an hour. 
 All the principal elevated railway companies are 
 consolidated in one corporation. 
 
 The greatest advantage to the city by the open- 
 ing of the elevated roads was the almost immedi- 
 ately increased value of real estate on the upper 
 part of the island. In the first year »fter the 
 trains be^an to run, more than 500 houses were 
 built above Fiftieth Street, full 400 of them being 
 second-class houses at reasonable rents for the 
 small-salaned and working classes who, hitherto, 
 had been compelled to find cheap homes on Long 
 Island, in New Jersey, or elsewhere in the 
 country. To these, the saving in time alone in 
 
 BROADWAY. 
 
 Broadway is not as broad. 
 nor as long, as other ave- 
 nues of New York, but it is 
 beyond comparison the 
 business thoroughfare of 
 the city, and taking it all 
 and all', from its beginning 
 at the Battery to its ending 
 at Central Park, a distance 
 of five miles, there is more 
 variety in its architecture, 
 its stores, and its throngs 
 of people, than can be 
 found anywhere in the 
 world. It Is pretty sharply 
 divided into sections, each 
 of which has its busy period 
 during the day. Begin- 
 ning at the starting-point, 
 the Battery, we come at once to Bowhng Green. 
 Facing^this circular inclosure are the new Pro- 
 duce Exchange and the new Field Building. 
 Here are gathered the foreign consular ofticeH 
 and the steamship companies. We soon reach 
 Trinity Church at the head of Wall Street, and 
 are in the midst of bankers, brokers, lawyers, 
 and others. At the corner of Wall Street is the 
 United Bank Building. Trinity Church, oppo- 
 site, with its churchyard tilled with shrubbery 
 and trees, seems like an oasis in a desert of 
 granite, marble, and sandstone. Passing the 
 church, the huge and imposing structures of the 
 Equitable and Mutual Lite Insurance Compauirp, 
 and others completely dwarf the street, and it i-; 
 not until St. Paul's Church and churchyard lae 
 reached that Braadway again looks wider. Here 
 is the best pointlrom which to study the turmoil 
 of New York street traffic. Here Park Row 
 branches out, forming an acute angle, on which 
 stands the Post Office, while the many lines of 
 horse-cars terminating opposite, and the constant 
 atream of omnibuses and vehicles of all sorts. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 v5 
 
 pasaing up and down Broadway, make crossing 
 here an art which recimreB coneideiabh; courage. 
 Hero tho financial division of Broadway loses it- 
 self in a mass ot lawyers' offices, retail clothing 
 establishmenta, etc., whicli have found the few 
 blocks opposite tho City Hall Park a convenient 
 locality. Then comes dry goods and fancy goods, 
 carpets, and rijtibon dealers, all selling at whole- 
 sale only. At Spring Street we reach the St. 
 Nicholas Hotel, at Princo Street the Metropoli- 
 tan, and above Bleecker, the Grand Central. At 
 Ninth Street is tho vast iron structure known as 
 A. T. Stewart's; near the corner of Tenth Street 
 is Grace Church. Union Square, which is less 
 than a quarter of a mile from here, breaks the 
 continuity of Broadway, and when it begins 
 again it is on the west of the square, and con- 
 tinues its course in that direction, crossing all 
 the avenues that come in its way. Between 
 Union and Madison Squares, whicli are only a 
 little more than a quarter of a mile apart, have 
 been erected some of tho largest and finest stores 
 in the city. 
 
 THE CTSTOM HOUSE. 
 
 This building was formerly the Merchants' 
 Exchange. It is a huge pile of Quincv granite, 
 about 200 by 160 feet, and 77 feet high." There .3 
 a portico on Wall Street, hav- 
 ing twelve front, four middle, 
 and two rear columns, each 
 of granite, eighty-eight feet 
 high and four and one-half 
 feet in diameter. The ro- 
 tunda 18 eighty feet high, and 
 the dome is supported on 
 eight pilasters ol fine Italian 
 variegated marble. The cost 
 of the building and ground 
 was $1,800,000. 
 
 to 400,000 shares of stock change hands daily, 
 and the value of the railroad and miscellaneous 
 bonds dealt in is from $2,000,000 to $3,000,000. 
 In government bonds the transactions average 
 about $400,000 in amount each day, but millions 
 are dealt in privately by members. The scene 
 upon the floor during business hours is one of 
 noise and confusion, and at times the place re- 
 sembles Bedlam. The 15th of September is 
 White Hat Day, and the smashing of the white 
 hats worn by members during the summer is re- 
 ligionsly attended to. The facilities for doing 
 business oftered by the Exchange are very great, 
 its management excellent. Visitors are admitted 
 to tho gallery free at all times when the Exchange 
 is open. 
 
 PRODUCE EXCHANGE. 
 
 The Produce Exchange occupies the block 
 bounded by Whitehall, Pearl, Moore, and Water 
 Streets, the main entrance being on Whitehall 
 street. It was organized in 1861, and is tho 
 largest organization of its kind in the world. Its 
 membership is limited to 3,000, which is now 
 full. During exchange hours, it is the rendez- 
 vous of all the large merchants dealing in grain, 
 lard, etc. About November it will remove to the 
 new building on Bowling Green, covering a 
 
 THE SUB-TREASURY. 
 
 Tho United States Sub- 
 Treaaury is in a large white 
 marble building standing on 
 the site of the old Federal 
 Hall in which Washington 
 was inaugurated first Presi- 
 dent of the United States. 
 The main front is on Wall 
 Street, facing Broad Street. 
 It runs back to Pino Street, 
 Nassau Street flanking it on 
 one side and the Assay Office 
 on the other. The design of 
 the building is Doric; its di- 
 mensions are: Length, from 
 Wall to Pine Streets, 200 feet; 
 width, 80 feet; height of Wall 
 Sti-eet front, 80 feet; of Pine 
 Street front, 60 feet, the 
 ground gradually sloping 
 from the latter street. On 
 the Wall Street side there is 
 an imposing portico sup- 
 ported oy eight marble col- 
 umns 32 feet high, and on the 
 Pine Street side there is a 
 similar portico. The Wall 
 Street portico is reached 
 from the sidewalk by a flight 
 of eighteen marble steps, ex- 
 tending the entire breadth of 
 the building. Within there 
 ia a rotunda 60 feet in diameter, the dome being | 
 supported by sixteen Corinthian columns. 
 Around this rotunda are ranged the desks of 
 the various divisions of the Sub-Treasury. There 
 are two large vaults for the storage of gold coin 
 and notes on this floor, and the large vaults for 
 the storage of silver are in the basement. The 
 building is furnished with steel window shutters 
 and doors. 
 
 STOCK EXCHANGE. 
 
 The building is in the style of the French 
 Renaissance, is five stories high, of white marble, 
 and with the columns and upper stories of col- 
 ored granite. It has a Irontage of 70 feet on 
 Broad Street, and 162 feet on New Street, with an 
 L running through to Wall Street. The Board- 
 room is 141 by 53 feet, and the remainder of the 
 building is divided into offices for members of 
 the Exchange. The vaults in the basement for 
 the safe deposit of valuables are the most ex- 
 tensive in the United States. Members only are 
 allowed upon the floor. The Exchange opens at 
 10 A. M., and closes at 3 p. m. Seats in the Ex- 
 change are transferable with the consent of the [ 
 committee, and the market value of a seat has 
 now reached the price of $30,000, About 300,000 
 
 SUB-TREASURY. 
 
 square. This ia a most imposing and noble 
 structure. 
 
 TRINITY CHURCH. 
 
 The wealthiest single church organization in 
 the United States is the Trinity Corporation. It 
 is also the oldest in New York, excepting the 
 Dutch Reformed Collegiate Corporation, the 
 land on which the church now stands having 
 been granted by the English Government in 1697, 
 being in the fifth year of the reign of William and 
 Mary, its location being fixed as " in or near" to 
 a street without the north gate ot the city, com- 
 monly called Broadway. Eight years later, in 
 1705, the church received from the same sources 
 the gift of " Queen Anne's Farm." embracing the 
 entire tract lying along the North River, between 
 the present Vesey and Christopher Streets. A 
 large part of this magnificent endowment the 
 corporation stiil controls. The first church was 
 completed in 1699, and stood unchanged for forty 
 years, when it was almost rebuilt. At the out- 
 break of the Revolution it was closed for a time, 
 owing to the persistency of the clergy in reading 
 the prayers for the King of England. When the 
 British army had established itself again firmly 
 in the city, the doors were again opened, but af- 
 ter a few days it was destroyed m the great tire 
 
 of 1770. It was not rebuilt until twelve vears 
 had elapsed. The structure then erected stood 
 until 1839, when it was pronounced unsafe, and 
 pulled down to make way for the present one, 
 which was finished in 1846. This is still one of 
 the handsomest specimens of Gothic church 
 architecture in the city. Looking up from Wall 
 Street, at tho head of which it stands, its steeple 
 rising to a height of 284 feet, conveys an impres- 
 sion of size which buildings of greater dimen- 
 sions, but less fortunately situated, do not give. 
 Tho material used— a brown sandstone— also 
 helps to increase the general effect. "The doors , 
 are open in tho daytime. The gray tints of the ' 
 grained roof and its supporting rows of carved 
 Gothic columns is mellowed by the daylight. 
 The altar and reredos were erected as a memo- 
 rial to William B. Astor by his sons. The 
 altar is eleven feet long, and is divided into 
 panels. In the center panel is a Maltese cross 
 in mosaic, set with cameos and the symbols of 
 the Evangelist. Surrounding the church is the 
 churchyard, containing gravestones dating back 
 as far as the church itself. 
 
 COOPER UNION. 
 
 This building is at the junction of Third and 
 Fourth .\venues at Seventh Street and the Bow- 
 ery. It is a brown stone 
 building of plain and mas- 
 sive appearance, and seven 
 Stories high. It was built by 
 the late Peter Cooper in 
 1857, at a cost of $630,000, 
 and endowed with $200,000, 
 for the support of the free 
 reading-room and library. 
 The expenses of keeping n"p 
 the Union are about $50,000 
 per annum, which is derived 
 principally from the rentals 
 of stores and offices in the 
 building, and the income of 
 the endowment fund. The 
 scheme of the Union in- 
 cludes free schools of science 
 and art, and a fixe reading- 
 room and library. The eve- . 
 ning schools of science and 
 art are attended by over 
 3,000 students annually, 
 mostly from the various 
 trades and occupations of 
 the city. None are admitted 
 under the age of fifteen, or 
 who are not acquainted with 
 the rudiments of reading, 
 writing and arithmetic. Fe- 
 males are admitted to the 
 lectures and the scientific 
 classes. A special art school 
 is provided for women in the 
 day. 
 
 LUDLOW STREET JAIL. 
 
 Persons arrested under 
 process issued to the Sheriff 
 of the County of New York, 
 are taken to Ludlow Street 
 Jail. Delinquent members 
 of the National Guard form 
 a large class. The jail also 
 receives persons arrested 
 for violating the United 
 States laws. Superior accommodations are fur- 
 nished to those able and willing to pay for them. 
 The building is of brick, and extends from Lud- 
 low Street eastward to Essex Street. It is about 
 100 feet north ol Grand Street, between which 
 and it is Essex Market, separated by a narrow 
 lane. 
 
 THE OR.O-D CENTRAL DEPOT. 
 
 Probably the finest and largest railroad depot 
 in the world is the Grand Central, on East Forty- 
 second Street and Fourth Avenue. 
 
 The Victoria Station in Westminster, London, 
 and the station in Turin, Italy, are eecondarv in 
 sizo to this great structure which Commodore 
 Vandcrbilt, the railroad king, caused to be 
 erected for the accommodation of the traveling 
 public of the metropolis. The depot was com- 
 menced on September 15, 1869, and on October 
 7, 1871, the first train left the building. The de- 
 pot is 240 feet wide by 696 feet in length; it is 
 made of stone, brick, iron and glass, with wood 
 for inside finishing. Ten milhons of bricks wiere 
 used, and the house covers four acres, and has 
 two acres of glass in the roof. There are 182 
 windows, 41 doors, 18 stairways, and 2,000 g ? 
 burner.s, which are lighted bv 2.5.000 leet of 
 
THE QREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 t'.cctric wire. Fifty intersectiBg railway tracks 
 diverge from the "building, covering a yard of 
 four acrets. Ttiis depot serves as a junction tor 
 the Hudson River, the New York Central, the 
 New York and Harlem, and the New York and 
 New Haven Railroads. The interior of the pas- 
 senger room where the care arrive and depart 
 is as imposing as the exterior shovni in the il- 
 lustration. Trains are constantly arrivmg and 
 departing, and so admirable la the system, every- 
 thing moves like clock work. 
 
 Mr. J. C. Buckhout was the architect and en- 
 gineer of the building and its dependencies, and 
 IS entitled to great credit for the fine arrange- 
 ment and completion of the gigantic and u 
 Qificent structure. 
 
 USIVEBSITY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 This building consists of departments of arts, 
 science, law, and medicine. Instruction in the 
 three first is given in theUaiveraity building, on 
 the east side of Washington Square, between 
 Washington and Waverly Place. The governing 
 body is a council of thirty-two members. The 
 faculty consists of the chancellor, and of a staff 
 of professors and instructors, numbering about 
 siity-lour. The University was chartered in 
 1830. The building on Washington Square is a 
 handsome Gothic structure of white 
 freestone, and the lecture rooms are ^ ^ 
 well arranged. The income is about *~ 
 
 $40,000 per annum. Instruction in the 
 department of arts and science is free; 
 the course is four years, and in law two 
 years, while in that of medicine it de- 
 pends on the student. 
 
 site of the House of Refuge, and other charities 
 provided by the city for destitute children. On 
 the south aide of the island is the House of 
 Refuge, under the care of the Society for the 
 Reformation of Juvenile Delinquents, lor the use 
 of which thirty acres are set apart. The build- 
 ings arc of brick, in the Italian style of archi- 
 tecture; the two principal buildings are nearly 
 1,000 feet long. The Doys and girls are kept 
 separate, and those guilty of social crime apart 
 from the more youthful. Children brought be- 
 fore police magistrates are sentenced to this in- 
 stitution. The average number of inmates is 
 800, all of whom are taught to work, as well as 
 instructed in the common English branches. 
 This institution is the first of the kind ever or- 
 ganized. John Gnscomb, L.L. D., a member 
 of the Society of Friends, was the pioneer in a 
 philanthropic movement which led to the forma- 
 tion of this society. The charter was obtained 
 in 182i, and on January 1, 1825, with six girls 
 and three ragged boys, the first House of Refuge 
 was inaugurated in the old barracks on Madison 
 Square, which was then a long way out of the 
 city. Here the Refuge remained about fifteen 
 years, and in 1839 was transferred to Bellevuc, 
 at 23i Street and East River, where it continued 
 about the same length of time, and m 1854 it was 
 transferred to its present location. It is a State 
 
 situated on the Harlem River, ia the old Morris 
 mansion, once the headquarters of Washington, 
 and later the property of Madame Jumel. 
 
 CENTn.\L PARK. 
 
 Central Park, now one of the most 
 beautiful in the world, was within the 
 memory of this generation a waste of 
 rock and swamp. The work was taken 
 in hand in 1857, little more than twenty 
 years ago. Green lawns, shady groves, 
 fine drives and walks, inviting expanses 
 •of water, and picturesauc bits of scen- 
 ery have taken root ana blossomed in a 
 "waste place. The Park is bounded on 
 the south by 59th Street, on the north by 
 110th Street, on the east by 5th Avenue, 
 and on the west by 8th Avenue. The 
 Park measures from north to south 
 13,464 feet 10 inches, or 256 feet over 
 two and a half miles. Its breadth is 
 2,719 feet, or 79 feet over half a mile. 
 The area within these bounds measures 
 840 acres. The length of carriage-ways 
 or drives, having an average width of 54 
 feet and a width of 60 feet, is about nine 
 miles; the length of the bridle-paths, 
 having an average width of 16 1-i feet, 
 is about five and a half miles; and the 
 length of the walks or footpaths, having 
 a breadth of 13 feet, is about twentj-- 
 ■eight and a hall miles. There are about 
 thirty buildings in the Park of all kinds, 
 and there are outside of these seats 
 provided for about 10,000 persons, of 
 which nearly 000 are in vine-covered 
 arbora. The wooded ground covers 
 about 400 acres, on which have been set 
 out over 500,000 trees, shrubs, and 
 vines. The Park is beautiful all the 
 year round. It is at all times the fashionable 
 ilrive. There are forty-eight bridges, archways, 
 and tunnels. Thpy are all highly ornamental, 
 and of great variety in architectural design. 
 The ball-ground is afine stretch of lawn contain- 
 ing ten acres. Bolvidere is the highest point in 
 the Park. Bethesda Fountain is the central or- 
 nament of the Park, and is placed at the foot of 1 
 the Terrace. Carousal is a part set apart for ' 
 the amusement of the younger children. The 
 Casino is a pretty atone "cottage. The total area 
 of water in tue Park, exclusive of the reservoirs, 
 is 43 1-4 acres. The Mall is a broad path lined 
 with trees. It commands a fine view of this part 
 of the Park, and is the grand promenade. The 
 Park contains a menagerie, containing a very 
 fine collection of birds and animals. There is 
 also an observatory. The Ramble is one of the 
 most charming parts of the Park. Vehicles used 
 for business purposes are not permitted within 
 the Park. 
 
 THE rionSE OF REFOOE, R.VNDAI.l'8 ISLAND. 
 
 Randall's Island is at the junction of the East 
 River and Long Island Sound. It is divided 
 from the shore on fho north by a narrow channel 
 known as the Harlem Kills, on the south from 
 Ward's Island by Little Hell Gate, and is the 
 
 NEW TOBK STOCK EXCHANOE. 
 
 institution. Visitors must obtain a paas from tin- 
 Commissioners of Charities, and are admitted 
 dailv from nine to five. 
 
 .LOOIUNODAI.E ASYLnU FOR THE INSANE. 
 
 This building ia on the Boulevard and 117th 
 Streets. It is a department of the New York 
 Hospital. The management is invested in a 
 committee of six govornoi-s of the Hospital. All 
 patients are of the independent class, and pay 
 trom seven to forty dollars per week for board 
 and treatment. 
 
 HIGH BRIDGE. 
 
 This magnificent structure, by which the Cro- 
 ton Aqueduct is carried across Harlem River, 
 is of granite throughout, and spans the entire 
 width cf valley and river, from cliff to cliff. It 
 is 1,450 feet long, 114 feet high, and supported 
 on 14 massive piers, and has been well called " a 
 structure worthy of the Roman Empire." On the 
 lofty bank at ita" south end is a capacioua reaer- 
 voir for the supply of the higher portions of the 
 city, the water being pumped into it by power- 
 ful machinery. From this point a comprehen- 
 sive view of the city and surroundings may be 
 had. A little below" High Bridge, picturcsqiiely 
 
 HIGH LIFE IN NEW YOBK. 
 
 The following sketch of life an#ng the " upper 
 ten "is from Matthew Hale Smith's " Sunanme 
 and Shadow in New Y'ork," published by the 
 J. B. Burr Publishing Co., of Hartford Conn.: 
 
 With the ehte of New York, so called, monev 
 is the principal thing. The best society of New 
 York is not to be found amon" the elite. If you 
 wish parties, soirees, balls, that are elegant, at- 
 tractive, and genteel, you will not find them 
 among the snobbish cliqiie, who, with nothing but 
 money, attempt to rule New York. Talent, 
 taste, and refinement do not dwell with these. 
 But hi£;h hfe has no passport except money. If 
 a man has this, though destitute of character and 
 brains, he is made welcome. One may come 
 from Botany Bay or St. James; with a ticket of 
 leave from a penal colony or St. Cloud; if be has 
 diamond rings and a coach, all places will be 
 opened to him. The leaders of upper New York 
 were, a few years ago, porters, etable-boya, coal- 
 heavers, pickers of rags, ecrubbera of floors, and 
 laundry women. Coarse, rude, ignorant, un- 
 civil, and immoral many ot them arc 
 still. Lovers of pleasure and men of 
 fashion bow and cringe to such, and ap- 
 
 g roach hat in hand. One of our mw- 
 edged millionaires gave a ball in his 
 stable. The invited came with tokens 
 of deUght. Tlie host, a few years ago, 
 was a ticket taker at one of our ferries, 
 and would have thankfully blacked the 
 boots or done any menial service for the 
 
 Eeople who clamor for the honor of Lis 
 and. At the gate of Central Park, 
 every day, splendid coaches may be 
 seen", in which sit large, fat, coarse wo- 
 men, who carry with them the marks of 
 the wash-tub. These people have 
 money. They spend it in untold sums 
 for balls, parties, and soirees, and in 
 drawing upper New York into their 
 gaudy manaiona. 
 
 A &IASKED BALL. 
 
 A young Boston lady, by an eligible 
 marriage with a princely merchant, be- 
 came the mistress of an extensive man- 
 sion in Madison Square. While in 
 France she captivated the Emperor by 
 her auperb dancing and graceful akat- 
 ing. His majesty sent her a costly 
 present. At Saratoga and Newport she 
 drove her own dashing team with her 
 lootmau behind, and became the moat 
 conspicuous of the visitors at those gay 
 
 Elacea. She resolved to give a fancy 
 all, and all the elite were in a fever of 
 excitement. Brown, of Grace Church, 
 had charge of the invitations, and five 
 hundred were given out. All the gucata 
 were in costume. Three fourths of the 
 guests wore maaks. The drosses were 
 rich, elegant, and costly. Suits were 
 ordered troni Paris and" London. The 
 hostess appeared as the Goddess of 
 Music. Her dress was short, and her 
 boots scarlet and trimmed with email 
 bells. On her head was a lyre, from 
 which ias led brilliant jets of burning gas. Stock 
 broKers, men in high life, and fast New Yorkers, 
 appeared in various characters, among which 
 the representatives of a monkev and of Satan at- 
 tractea the most attention. The mansion was 
 superbly fitted up. Thousands of dollars were 
 apent in floral decorations. Plate ol gold and 
 silver, china from beyond the seas, adorned the 
 table. Servants in brilliant gold and silver hv- 
 ery waited on the guests. Hidden bands sent 
 music through the mansion. The supper lasted 
 till five in the morning. The last strains of 
 music for the daucers closed at six. The count- 
 ing-rooms were thrown open, the hammer of the 
 artisan was heard, carmen and laborers were at 
 their work, before the festivities ended and the 
 door closed on the last departing guest. Such 
 ia high hfe in New York. 
 
 WHO H.VS MONEY. 
 
 Much of the society of New York is very select, 
 intellectual, and genteel. But the moneyed 
 aristocracv, those who crowd gilded saloons and 
 make up the parties ot the Inn, who are invited to 
 soirees, fancy balls, and late snppers, are among 
 the coarsest, most vulgar and illiterate of our 
 people. Monev is made easily by many in New 
 York; fortunes are acquired in a day; families 
 go from a shantv on a back street to a brown- 
 
TH£: GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 Btono front in upper New York, but they carry 
 with them their vulgar habits, and diBgust those 
 who from social position are compelled to invito 
 nheui to their houses. At a fashionable party 
 persons are invited according to their baDK ac- 
 count and to their standing on 'Change. A 
 fashionable party is made up of representatives 
 of all nations and all religious—men and women 
 who can speak the Euglish language and those 
 who cannot, Jews and Gentiles, Irisli and Ger- 
 mans, red-faced and heavy-bearded men, coarse- 
 featured, red-faced, uncultivated women, who 
 are loaded down with jewelry and covered with 
 satins, who can cat as much as a soldier in the 
 trenches. If they give a party, they give it to 
 those who ridicule their position and manners. 
 If they go to a party, they laugh in their turn. 
 
 BROWX, or GRACE CHURCH. 
 
 The most famous man connected with New 
 York high life is Brown, the sexton of Grace 
 Church. For many years Grace has been the 
 center of fashionable New York. To be married 
 or buried within its walls has been ever consid- 
 ered the height of felicity. For many years 
 Brown has stood at the entrance to fashionable 
 life. He get.s up parties, engineers bridals, and 
 conducts lunerala more genteelly than any other 
 man. " The Lenten season is a horridly dull 
 season," he is reported to have said; " but we 
 manage to make our funerals as entertaining as 
 possible." No partv iu high life is complete 
 without him. A fasliionable lady about to nave 
 a fashionable gathering at her house orders her 
 meats from tbe butcher, her 
 supplies from the grocer, her 
 cakes and ices from the confec- 
 tioner, but her invitations she 
 puts into the hands of Brown. 
 He knows whom to invite and 
 whom to omit. He knows who 
 will come, who will not come, 
 but will send regrets. In case 
 of a pinch, he can fill \ip the list 
 with young men, p i c k e d up 
 about town, in black swallow- 
 taUed coats, white vests, and 
 white cravats, who, in consider- 
 ation of a fine supper and a 
 dance, will allow themselves to 
 be passed off as the sons of dis- 
 tinguished New Yorkers. The 
 city has any quantity of ragged 
 noblemen, seedy lords from 
 Germany, Hungarian barons 
 out at the elbow, members of 
 the European aristocracy who 
 ' \>^h their country for their coun- 
 try's good, who can be served 
 up iu proper proportions at a 
 fashionable party when the oc- 
 casion demands it. No man 
 knows tlieir haunts better than 
 Brown. He revels in funerals. 
 Fashion does not change more 
 frequently in dress than in the 
 method of conducting funerals 
 in high life. What constituted 
 a very genteel funeral last year 
 would be a very vulgar one this, 
 tation are sent out as to a party, 
 shutters of the house are closed, and the funeral 
 takes place in gas-light. The lights are arranged 
 for artistic effect. Parties who have the entree 
 of fashionable life can tell, the moment they en- 
 ter the rooms, what fashionable sexton has 
 charge of the funeral. The arrangement of the 
 furniture, the position of the coffin, the laying 
 out of the body, the coffin itself, the adjustment 
 Df the lights, the hanging of the drapery, the 
 plate-glass hearse, the number of horses, the 
 iize and quaUty of the plumes on the hearse and 
 team, indicate "the style of tho funeral, and the 
 wealth and social position of the family. Mourn- 
 ing has a style peculiar to itself, and the intensity 
 of the grief is indicated by the depth of the 
 crape. Brown is a huge fellow, coarse in his 
 features, resembling a dressed-up carman. His 
 face is very red, and on Sundays he passes up 
 and down the aisles of Grace Church with a pe- 
 cuhar swagger. He bows strangers into a pew, 
 when he deigns to pve them a seat, with a ma- 
 jestic and patronizing air, designed to impress 
 them with a realizing sense of the obligation he 
 has conferred upon them. 
 
 YKLLOW KIDS. 
 
 Fashionable New York is distinguished by vel- 
 low kids. The supply must be large, for "the 
 demand is gieat. Wherever you find fashion- 
 able New York or young New York, there you 
 will find yellow kids. On New Year's Day, when 
 thousands throng the streets, every man you 
 meet, young or old, who mftkee any pretension 
 
 to society, wears yellow gloves. When the Com- 
 mon Council turn out, every man sports a nair 
 at the city's expense. In Broadway or at Cen- 
 tral Park, at the opera or iu church, these glar- 
 ing appendages flash before tho eye. A fashion- 
 able New Yorker may have seedy clothes, a hat 
 out of season, boots the worse for wear, still he 
 will sport his yellow kids. 
 
 After the London fashion, clubs arc becoming 
 common among the upper ten. They have not 
 yet got the political significance of those of the 
 Old World. Tho Loyal League, in its elegant 
 quarters on Union Square, is Uepublican. The 
 Manhattan Club is Democratic. But these are 
 for occasional festivals. The members of each 
 belong to the different clubs of the city. The 
 most elegant buildings on Fifth Avenue are club 
 houses. They are furnished in the most gor- 
 geous manner. Every convenience of comfort 
 and luxury that can be conceived is found with- 
 in the walls. Nearly every club house indicates 
 the brief life of a New York aristocrat. A lucky 
 speculation, a sudden rise in real estate, a new 
 turn of the wheel of fortune, lifts up tho man 
 who yesterday could not be trusted for his din- 
 ner, and gives him a place among tho men of 
 wealth. He buys a lot on Fifth Avenue, puts up 
 a palatial residence, outdoing all who have gone 
 before him, sports his gay team in Central Park, 
 carpets his sidewalk, gives two or three parties, 
 and disappears from society. His family return 
 to the sphere from which they were taken, and 
 
 citv. His property cannot amount to less than 
 t26o, 000,000, and probably is nearer $300,000,000 
 than the former sum. He is without questioa 
 the richest man on the globe to-day. He could 
 buy any of Rothschilds, and still be the richest 
 man in the world. And unlike the rich men of 
 England — the Dukes of Bedford, Westminster, 
 Argyll, and Buccleuch, who inherited their great 
 csUtee — Vanderbilfs property has been accu- 
 mulated in two generations, and the most of it 
 in thirty years. The case stands without a par- 
 allel in history. 
 
 It is a singular list of names that follows that 
 of Vanderbilt iu this catalogue. We take eacli ' 
 at liis reputed valuation: Jay Gould, $100,000,- 
 000; D. O. Mills, $20,000,000, Bussell Sage, $1.5,- 
 000,000; J. 11. Keene, $15,000,000; the late E. D. 
 Morgan, $10,000,000; b. J. Tilden, $15,000,000; 
 Samuel Sloan, $10,()00,000; Commodore Garri- 
 son, $10,000,000; Cyrus W. Field, $10,000,000; 
 Hugh J. Jewctt, $5,000,000; Sidney Dillon, $5,- 
 000,000; David Dows, $5,000,000; J. De Navaro, 
 $5,000,000; John W. Garret, $5,000,000; W. W. 
 Astor, $5,000,000. 
 
 FAST LIFE IN NEW YOEK. 
 
 Cards of invi- 
 Sometimes the 
 
 PRODUCE EXCH.tSGE. 
 
 his mansion, with its gorgeous furniture, be- | 
 comes a club house. These houses are becom- 
 ing more and more numerous. They are break- 
 ing up what little social and domestic life re- 
 mains in the city. Few homes are known to New 
 York high life. "Men go to the club to dine, and 
 spend their evenings amid its fascinations. 
 
 There are about fifty incorporated clubs iu the 
 city— political, social, sporting, literary, and ar- 
 tistic. The principal of these are the Manhat- 
 tan, Democratic, the Union League, Republican, 
 whose new club house cost $270,000, Union, 
 Lotos, and University, all on Fifth Avenue; New 
 York, St. Nicholas, Army and Navy, and Sorosis, 
 the ladies' club, in up"-town streeta near Fifth 
 Avenue; the Century, one of the oldest and 
 richest clubs, has a fine building in East Fif- 
 teenth Street; the Racquet Club is in Sixth 
 Avenue; the American Jockey in Madison 
 Avenue; and the Prefes Club, whicli numbers 
 more than three htindred members, is near ; 
 Printing House Square, iu Nassau Street. 
 
 THE MTLLION-URES. 
 
 Before the war there were very few men in 
 New York worth over $5,000,000. Most of Stew- 
 art's property was acquired during and after the 
 war. Most men now worth $10,000,000 and up- 
 ward were considered poor and honest twenty- 
 five vears ago. To-day W. H. Vanderbilt has 
 $65,000,000 m United States bonds, and he is re- 
 ported to hold some $.50,000,000 in New York 
 Central and Hudson River stock, $50,000,000 
 more in other railroads in this and other States, 
 and a Tast amount of valuable real est.'itc m ihia 
 
 There is no department or profession in the 
 city, writes Matthew Hale Smith, in his cele- 
 brated book entitled, " Sunshine and Shadow in 
 New York," where fast men cannot bo found. 
 The pulpit, the bar, mercantile and banking life, 
 have specimens of this class; none can be called 
 exempt. The temptations to 
 hazard are very great, and high 
 life is at a premium among & 
 class. Besides these men who 
 are princes in trade, and like 
 the merchants of Tyre, are " the 
 honorable of tho earth," are 
 men who live for the day and 
 the hour, and whose motto is, 
 "All is fair in trade." These 
 men gam money in anyway that 
 is open to them, reckless of con- 
 sequences. They go for a merry 
 life, though it be a short one. 
 It they make five hundred dol- 
 lars, they spend it at once oa 
 their whims, caprices, passions, 
 and appetites. Penniless curb- 
 stone brokers, one day they 
 have rooms at an up-town hotel, 
 the next ride down to the street 
 in a coach, drink the costliest 
 wine, eat the most exciting food, 
 dash out in a splendid dress, 
 hire a box at the opera, and th« 
 next week become as penniless 
 and destitute as before. With 
 fast New York, money is every- 
 thing; balls, parties, and soirees 
 are open to the man of the dia- 
 mond ring, and who calls in a. 
 coach. Parties who a year or 
 tw:\ ago were porters, "stable- 
 boys, and coal-heavers affect 
 style, and drive the stunning 
 turnouts on the Park. Some women, who give 
 what are called select parties, are rude, coarse, 
 and ignorant, from whose persons the marks of 
 the wash-tub and the stiffness of their joints 
 from scrubbing has cot beeu eflaced. Men who 
 were ticket takers at a ferry, starters on an om- 
 nibus route, or car drivers, buy expensive teams 
 and lead the fashion for an hour. So-called 
 fashionable people will scramble for an invitation 
 to a masque ball, or a fancy party, who would 
 not speak to the hostess outside of her own 
 dwelliug. 
 
 RECRE.iTIONS OF THE FAST CLASS. 
 
 The fashionable recreations of the fast class 
 in New York are m keeping with the low life 
 from which they sprung, and with their extrava- 
 gant habits. Ladies appear in their costly man- 
 sions, glittering with gas and covered with bells. 
 Extravagant costumes, imported at fabulous 
 prices, represent monkeys, Satan, apes, and 
 other forms, which show the taste of the wearers. 
 Servants are decked out in gold and silver liv- 
 ery. Laboring men of different nationalities are 
 hired for the occasion, and dressed up in fancy 
 costumes to represent nobles and barons of the- 
 Old World. This style of life is invariably of 
 short duration. Since Lenox, who led the up- 
 town movement, laid the foundation of his sub- 
 stantial dwelling on Fifth Avenue, which is still 
 occupied by him, at least five hundred families 
 have occupied gorgeous mansions and disap- 
 peared from sight. .\11 up and down Fifth 
 Avenue are magnificent mansions, built by fast 
 111.^11 of thr Hlroct, and cjcupied by buttorflies of 
 
8 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 fashion, during the brief, aunny hour allotted to 
 them. These persona were the rage and sensa- 
 tion for tue time. Nothing was good enough tor 
 their use, in this country. Carpets woven in the 
 most celebrated looms" in foreign cities, furni- 
 ture manufactured at an immense cost in Paris, 
 gold and silver jjlate and china brought from be- 
 yond the seas were the marvels of the hour. 
 When a party was given, all New York was 
 fstirred; the sidewalks were carpeted, and the 
 mansions brilhantly illuminated. The turnouts 
 were the envy of the city. Such dresses, such 
 horses, such aristocratic 
 livery could not be matched 
 in the country. Without a 
 single esception, theee fast 
 livers of pleasure have 
 gone out of sight, not one 
 remaining to-day who was 
 on the surface ten years 
 ago. Some that I have 
 eeeu, the envy of Saratoga 
 and Newport", are dead; 
 others occupy tenement 
 houses in the city \vith 
 drunken husbands who 
 Lave added intemperance 
 to financial reverses. Many 
 of those magnificent man- 
 eions ou Fifth Avenue, 
 which were built for the 
 fast men of the street, are 
 clab houses now, and the 
 names of their builders 
 a ad founders have already 
 perished. Not only from 
 tbe street, but from social 
 life, these fast men have 
 disappeared forever. In 
 their ruin they have car- 
 ried down their familiea 
 with them. 
 
 A RniNED UAK, ONCE A 
 FINANCIAL KINO. 
 
 Every day I meet on 
 Willi Street, a man who 
 tiftfcen years ago stood 
 
 i among "the richest and 
 
 [ most honorable, the repre- 
 reutative ot one of the moat 
 aucceasful housea in the 
 country. He seldom looks 
 to the right hand or left. 
 He 18 getting to be an old 
 man now, but stoops quite 
 as much trom sorrow as 
 from age. His dress is of 
 the past generation —his 
 fau:;e collar and double 
 cravat speak of olden time. 
 Hia atop is alow, and ho 
 loaka seedy and worn. Yet 
 at one time he was one of 
 the wealthiest men in the 
 country. Hia name waa 
 one ol" the beet known in 
 America. It waa honored 
 at the courts abroad, and 
 stood high among the hon- 
 orable merchants of the 
 world. He inherited the 
 name and the busincae of 
 a house that through half 
 a century had been im- 
 etained. The alow and aure 
 method of gain did not 
 auit him; he tried the fast 
 role. To keep it up, he 
 speculated with trust 
 mjney put into hia liauda. 
 Thia did not meet his ne- 
 cessities and he used other 
 peoples' names and added 
 embezzlement and for- 
 gery. The game came to 
 an end, as all such transac- 
 tions must. He fled be- 
 tween tvvo days, and wan- 
 dered in foreign lands 
 Tinder an assumed name. 
 
 Widjwa and orphans were ruined, and the inno- 
 cent were dragged down in his fall. He lived 
 abroad as a fugitive. He found he was not pur- 
 sued. He grew bolder, aud finally appeared in 
 the streets of New York. Nobody meddled with 
 him. Some who remembered him in other days 
 and pitied him give him a commission or two to 
 eiecvite. He skulks around through the by-ways 
 aud narrow lanes of lower New York like a cul- 
 prit, where a few years ago he trod the pave- 
 ment like a king. He has a little den of an office, 
 strange enough, near the spot where Aaron Burr 
 planted himself at the close of his UfC; and tried 
 
 to earn a scanty living, alter having flung away 
 the most brilliant prospect and "repute that a 
 pubhc man ever possessed. 
 
 THE TAST HEN AT THE CLUB HOUSES. 
 
 The fast men of the street can be found in the 
 evening at some one of the many club houses 
 established in the upper part of th'e city. These 
 numerous and growing institutions are very un- 
 like the club houses of London, uor have" they 
 their political significance. In London the 
 club houses have a staidneas, order, and aris- 
 
 TKINTTT C'UUBCU. 
 
 tocracy, that mark the British character every- 
 where". 
 
 THE CLUB HOUSES, A>T) HOW THEY LTVE THERE. 
 
 The New York club houses have the excite- 
 ment cf the street about them. They are fur- 
 nished in gorgeous style. The most costly vianda 
 and the most exciting and espeuaive liquors are 
 furnished. Fast New York spend a portion of 
 their evenings amid the fascinations of the club. 
 I^ondonera go to their clubs to discuss political 
 matters, and decide upon parliamentary discue- 
 aiona or political agitationa. New Yorkers go to 
 
 their clubs to eat and drink and be cscited. A 
 London broker will go up from Lombard Street 
 to his club, take a cosy corner, and dine upon a 
 sober joint with a single glass of sherry or a mug 
 of ale. A New York broker will go "to his club 
 and dine oflf from a bill of fare that would be con- 
 siderpd sufScient for a court dinner to crowned 
 heads or a banquet at the Lord Mayor's man- 
 sion. An Enghsnman will ait down at hia club 
 with a decanter of ■wmt between himself and 
 friend, >vith the smallest and most fragile of wine 
 glasses and will hold a conference from one to 
 four hours, in a low-toned 
 voice, discussing mercan- 
 tile and other matters, and 
 •will rise from the table with 
 that single glass of wine 
 not consumed. If touched 
 at all, it will be merely 
 sipped, from time to time, 
 during the conversation. A 
 New \orker will go to his 
 club or hotel, with the 
 fever of businesa etill 
 coursing through his veins 
 — excited from success or 
 maddened from losses — 
 and before ho can touch a 
 mouthful of food will call 
 for his bottle of cham- 
 pagfne, infuse into it au 
 eff'ervescence prepared for 
 such excited spirits, and 
 drain the contents before 
 he touches hia soup. It 
 is no marvel that auch men 
 grow gray at forty; that 
 premature baldness marks 
 the business nun of New 
 York; that only a few reach 
 mature life, and that many 
 of these have paralvsis, the 
 gout, and kindred disor- 
 ders: that long lines of 
 them call be seen e^■ery 
 morning— men made to be 
 healthy and destined to 
 grow "old — tottling along 
 with canes to support them 
 and with an unsteady step, 
 having burnt out their 
 manhood, consumed their 
 strength, and prematurely 
 impaired their health by 
 the cxceaaes of their livci!. 
 No warning will avail, no 
 beacons admoniah, but 
 each for himself will strike 
 his keel on the sunken 
 rocks and hidden shelves 
 and perish like a veasel 
 stranded on the beach. 
 
 A young man in this city 
 represented a New Eng- 
 land hoube of great wealth 
 and high standing. He 
 was considered one of the 
 smartest and moRt proni- 
 iaing young men in New 
 York. ' The balance in the 
 bank kept by the house was 
 very large, and the young 
 man used to boast that ho 
 could draw his check any 
 day tor two hundred thou- 
 sand dollars and have it 
 honored. The New Eng- 
 land house used a great 
 deal of paper, and it could 
 command the names of the 
 best capitalists to any ex- 
 tent. One gentleman, a 
 member of Congress, v.as 
 reputed to be worth over 
 half a miUion of dollars. 
 He waa accustomed to sign 
 Dotes in blank and leave 
 them with the concern, t<o 
 much confidence had he in 
 its soundness and integ- 
 rity. Yet, strange to say, 
 these notes with those of other wealthy men, with 
 nearly the whole financial business of the house, 
 were in the hands of the young manager m 
 New York, who, with none to check or control 
 him, did as he pleased with the funds. Every- 
 one thought him honest. Every one confided in 
 his inlegi-itv. All believed that ho was doing 
 the buaiiics'a of the concern squarely and with 
 great abihty. 
 
 In the meanwhile he took a turn at Harry 
 Hill'e "to reheve the presaure of busineBB." 
 Low amusements, and the respectable company 
 he found, suited him. From a spectator he 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 becaroo a dancer. From dancing he took to 
 drinking. From the bar ho entored tlioso patlia 
 ,to which Harry Hill's saloon is the entrance. He 
 tried his hand at light play. He then went into 
 gaming heavily, was stnppod every night, drink- 
 ing deeply all tlio while. Ho became enamored 
 with i'&acj women, clothed them in silks, vel- 
 vets, and jewels, drove them in dashing teams 
 through Central Park, seen red them fine man- 
 sions, and paid the expenses of the establish- 
 ments— all this while keeping the contidenoo of 
 his business associates. Hia wan, jaded, and 
 dissipated look went to his devotion to business. 
 Men who met him daily had no idea that ho was 
 bankrupt in character, and had led tho great 
 bouse with which ho was connected to the verge 
 of ruin. The New England manager of the 
 house was tho father of the young man. His 
 reputation was without a stain, and confidence 
 In hia integrity was unlimited. He had the 
 management of many estates, and hold large 
 sums of trust money in his hands belonging to 
 widows and orphans. In the midst of his busi- 
 ness, in apparent health, the father dropped 
 down dead. This brought things to a crisis, and 
 an exposure immediately followed. Tho great 
 house was bankrupt, and every body ruined that 
 had anything to do with it. Those who sup- 
 posed themselves millionaires found themselves 
 heavily in debt. Widows and orphans lost their 
 all. Men suspended business on the right hand 
 and on the left. In gambling, drinking, in fe- 
 male society, and in cliseipation generally, this 
 young fellow squandered 
 the great sum of one mil- 
 lion four hundred thou- -^' ' 
 sand dollars. He carried 
 down with him hundreds 
 of persons whom his vices 
 and dissipation had 
 ruined. And this is but a 
 specimen of the reverses 
 to which a fast New York 
 Mife leads. He may be 
 seen any day reeling about 
 the street, 1 ounging 
 around bar-rooms, or at- 
 tempting to steady his 
 steps as ho walks up and 
 down the hotel entrances 
 of the city. A sad wreckl 
 a terrible warning. 
 
 heaviest housefe aro very plain. Belmont's bank- 
 ing rooms aro frowning, heavy, B'jpulchral, and 
 aro lighted bv gas in the day timo alter tho En- 
 glish style, lirown & Brothers welcome custom- 
 or.s to iron seats and stone pavements. The men 
 of tho olden timo walked to their business, or at 
 best took a street car or an omnibus. 
 
 -■Vs business opens Wall Street is full of 
 coaches, hacks and cabs. As business draws to 
 a close, the street is occupied .agaiu by vehicles. 
 Tho new race of brokers adopt style. Some 
 come to business in their own elegant turnouts, 
 witli servants in livery. Others hire coaches 
 and cabs, and ride to and from Wall Street. 
 JIany do this who are as poor as rats, who, if 
 thev have five dollars spend half of it for a cab, 
 and the other half for a lunch at Delmonlco's. 
 They often borrow this sum. They go home to 
 sleep in an attic or a room in a tenement house, 
 and remove from week to week to avoid the pay- 
 ment of rent. Tho Chancel style, as it is called, 
 In Wall Street, is a modern thing. An old 
 broker, who had made his fortune in prudent 
 and honest speculations, and was content with 
 his small den and green baize table, left his busi- 
 ness with his boys and went to Europe. On his 
 return ho found " his house" in elegant cham- 
 bers, adorned with costly carpets, plate win- 
 dows, mirrors, magnificent furniture, walls fres- 
 coed in oil, and all the paraphernalia of modern 
 style. The merchant was excited and indignant. 
 He denounced the extravagance. The idea of 
 doing business in a counting-room elegant as the 
 
 WALL STREET AND THE 
 STOCK BEOKERS. 
 
 By permission of the J. 
 B. Burr Publishing Co., 
 Hartford, Conn., we ex- 
 tract the following enter- 
 taining article from Mat- 
 thew Hale Smith's well 
 Imown work, entitled " Sun- 
 shine and Shadow in New 
 York:" 
 
 Wall Street gives its name 
 to the locaUty where the 
 monied men of the city, 
 milUonaires, speculators, 
 heavy brokers, and leading 
 financiers have their headquarters. It means | 
 more than the short narrow street designated on 
 the map as Wall ?ltreet. The heaviest operators 
 are not located on Wall Street proper. They are 
 found on Broad Street, New Street, Nassau, 
 Pine, Cedar, William, Exchange and oa Broad- 
 
 ' way. The Stock Board is on Broad Street. The 
 Gold Board is on New Street. In "High 
 Change " the surging excited crowd who throng 
 the sidewalk and raise the din of Babel, are seen 
 on Broad Street from Wall to Pearl. The rooms 
 and dens of the heaviest operators who are on 
 
 • the street are oflf from Wall Street. So are the 
 regular Boards, and gathering places for opera- 
 tors who are excluded from the regular market. 
 Early in the morning the whole street is quiet as 
 Broadway on a Sunday. Business commences 
 at ten. Business men come down in droves. 
 They come from every direction and locahtv. 
 Full half of those who do business in Wall Street 
 live in Brooklyn, Jersey Citv, Elizabeth, Long 
 Island, and up the river, half way to Albanv. 
 The new style of business is very marked. Tlio 
 old brokers and speculators were content with 
 small chambers, back rooms, and even with 
 dens and cellars, bare floors, with hard furni- 
 ture, coarse and without ornament. Dark and 
 dingy offices were filled with the heaviest opera- 
 tors. The richest men, and the most daring in 
 speculation have no office oi" their own. Each 
 has one broker, some several, and when down 
 town these millionaires make their homes with 
 those who buy and sell for them. Some of the 
 
 COOPER UNION 
 
 chancel of a church, was preposterous. But 
 since the old broker has found himself at home 
 in his Fifth Avenue palace, he takes things more 
 quietly. Besides Wilton carpets, mirrors and 
 paintings, modern brokers who maintain style, 
 set an elegant lunch at a cost of $5,000 a year. 
 To this their customers are invited. Loafers, 
 hangers-on, and soldiers of fortune, are always 
 ready to help themselves. 
 
 Even fifty years ago, business in New Yorii was 
 very unlike what it is now. Men in mercantile 
 life went into business as apprentices at a com- 
 pensation ;of $50 a year. Wholesale merchants 
 were few. Broad, Wall and Pearl Streets were 
 the business portions. Porters carried goods in 
 their hands, at a shilling, below Caual Street, 
 twenty-five cents above. Store boys were sent 
 with goods above Canal Street to save cost. The 
 youngest boy went to his master's house for 
 the keys in the morning to open the store, and 
 returned them at night. Customers came to the 
 city to trade four times a year, and traders knew 
 when to expect them. Merchants used the most 
 rigid economy, and were their own salesmen, 
 book-keepers, and bankers. They built the 
 front of their dwellings with one material, and 
 saved a few hundred dollars by building the 
 rear with a cheaper one. Fifty years ago there 
 were not a dozen two-horse carriages in New 
 York. The city was compact and there was little 
 use for them. Above Fourteenth Street was be- 
 yond the " lamp district." It was not lighted or 
 policed, and people had to take care of them- 
 
 selves. Merchants who bought goods at auction 
 obliged their clerks to take them home ou their 
 shoulders to save portage. Loss than sixty years 
 ago, ono of our wealthiest mcrchanla of to-day 
 debated with his brottier whether it would be 
 prudent to pay $35U rent for a dwelling-house. 
 Yet his business then was very good. 
 
 nion cuA^^OE. 
 
 At ten o clock, Wall Street, at tho corner of 
 Broad, is an interesting spot. Men rush in from 
 all directions. Knots and cliques gather for the 
 contest. Muscular brokerage is at a premium. 
 Young roughs are dronsed like expressmen, with 
 low-crowned hats, docky coats, " stunning " 
 jewelry and flaming rings. Old men aro no- 
 where. At the Gold Board, youngsters and 
 clerks, with powers of attorney, leprcsent their 
 firms. At the Stock Jiouid, none but menabera 
 aro admitted. But oaeli houso lias a yonng 
 member who is trained for tho contlict." Tho 
 stock room is quiet enough during tho mo- 
 notonous call of the regular stocks. Members 
 sit in elegant chairs, or are broken up into httlo 
 knots, and quietly discuss matters. Tho cock- 
 pit is empty. But when an exciting stock ia 
 called all is changed. Members rush for the cen- 
 ter of tho room pell mell. The crowd, the rush, 
 the jostle, the fierce pushing, the clang of con- 
 flict, is too much for old men. Young men and 
 mere boys raise tho din, buy, soli, loan and bor- 
 row. Mjllions pass thr<nigh their hands in a 
 minute. They tear up and down stairs, rush in 
 and out, race down the 
 street, and across, and pitch 
 into quiet citizens as they 
 furiously turn corners. 
 Leading speculators begin 
 to gather on the street. 
 Each regular house has its 
 patrons and customers. In 
 ordinary times speculators 
 remain in the office of their 
 broker. Plain-looking, 
 cheaply - dressed, commou 
 appearing men they are. 
 Knowing nothing but slocks, 
 they are ill at ease. The 
 cUck of the telegraph paase.^ 
 along the prices. Tlie indi- 
 cator shows the nse and fail 
 of gold. Lunch comes and 
 goes. Kunnera come in 
 from time to timo with tho 
 reports. As stocks go up or 
 down, discussions are car- 
 ried on. Usually all je list- 
 less and without interest. 
 
 BULLS AND BEABS IN CON- 
 FLICT. 
 
 One class of brokers bare 
 stocks to sell. They resor: 
 to evciy means to advance 
 tho price. They aro called 
 Bulls. Anotlier class have 
 stocks to buy. They resort 
 to all sorts of schemes to 
 send stocks down. These 
 are Bears. When men come 
 in conflict in the street. 
 Wall Street is a scene of great excitement. When 
 it is known that a contest is to take place, the 
 Gold Boom is thronged. This room is a very 
 shabby-looking place, as offensive as the Stock 
 Room is elegant. A few chairs, very common 
 ones, are in the building. The maddened throng 
 have no time to sit. A strip of gallery occupies 
 one side of the room, and is crowded with spec- 
 tators. A heavy board partition keeps out in- 
 truders from the Exchange. The center, which 
 is lower than the rest of the room, is called the 
 pit. la the middle is a massive table, oblong in 
 shape, to keep the operators from trampling 
 each other to death in the excitement. A surg- 
 ing crowd, yelling, screaming, gesticulating, 
 stamping, fill every portion of the room. One 
 cool person occupies a seat above the din of the 
 conflict. He is calm amid the tempest and 
 storm. He touches a bell and the turmoil sub- 
 sides. In a moment the sale of gold is an- 
 nounced on all sides of the rooms and sent quiv- 
 ering over the wires to the various offices in the 
 city. Many dealers have no connection with the 
 telegraph. Communication is made to these by 
 ninners. The messengers crowd tlie avenues to 
 the Gold Room, fill vestibules and aisles and aid 
 to keep up the excitement. The bell of the 
 President announces the sale of gold, and thes:- 
 parties start on the run. Tearing down th ■ 
 street, rushing into alleys, darting jnlo doorwavs 
 they carry the news to their employers. 6ld 
 men, fat men, tall men, professor-like lookiua: 
 men lu Rpectacles, men looking wonderfully ht»' 
 
lO 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 clcrgyiueu without a pariah, and boys, are all on 
 the ran. 
 
 At such times a broker's office is a suggestive 
 place. The crowd is so dense at times outside 
 that teams cannot drive through the street. 
 Some brokers have a strong guard of police 
 around their offices. Inside the offices are very 
 exciting. The wildest rumors fly about. Banks, 
 heavy houses, and wealthy men are said to be 
 going under. The slain and wouaded are seen 
 — men who, ten days before, could count their 
 bank balance by tens and hundreds of thousands, 
 by a single stroke have been completely " cleaned 
 out," and are left without money enough to buy 
 a luuch. In the room some rail like mad men; 
 ■others walk the floor, snap their fingers, knit 
 their brows, shake their heads, and mutter 
 threats. Others m silence look at a particular 
 «pot on the floor, and pay no attention to the 
 mad throng rushing in and out. A young man, 
 not thirty, with an exhausted look and sad 
 countenance, in answer to the remark — " The 
 vagabonds have completely cleaned you out," 
 «aid: " Yes, I am $150,000 worse than nothing. 
 But that is not the worst of it. I am ten years 
 older than I was ten days ago." During this 
 scene the telegraph holds on its way announcing 
 the panic in stocks. A comment or two will be 
 heard on each tumble. "Oh! that is Meigg's 
 stock. Pity that old house has gone down." 
 Another tumble. " That is Lockwood. The Pa- 
 cific mail did that." 
 
 Beyond Wall Street, and 
 Taeyond the broker's offices. .^^r-^ 
 
 the movement of Bulls and 
 Bears carries disaster. 
 Alarm spreads through the 
 city. Large houses reel, 
 and small ones totter down. 
 The entire business of the 
 country is at the mercy of a 
 few reckless men. Shrink- 
 ages in dry goods stores 
 produce ruin. Money tak- 
 •«n out of circulation tight- 
 «n8 the market, and men 
 , -who borrow have to pay 
 [ from 90 to 365 per cent., for 
 ' without money merchants 
 cannot do business long. 
 
 The new mode of doing 
 business intensities the ex- 
 citement of Wall Street. 
 Stock operators have their 
 brokers, as business men 
 have their banks. Vander- 
 bilt had no office on Wall 
 Street. He was seldom 
 there. Yet he was one of 
 the heaviest operators. He 
 had a legion of runners 
 "who bought for him whil"- 
 he sat in his little room m 
 Tourth Street: he bought ;i 
 silence and no oue con: 
 track him. Drew had 
 little den ot a room in tL 
 third story of a building, to 
 ■which he retired when he 
 ■wished to be aloue. Ho 
 could generally be fouud 
 :in the office of Liis principal 
 
 broker, sitting on a bench dozing, or sound 
 a,9leep. Formerly, to fill an order brokers at- 
 tended the Stock Board in person and watched 
 the market. Now they sit iu their elegant 
 rooms, and communicate by telegraph, or give a 
 4}uiet order to incseengers who disappear and 
 make the purchase. There is very little talking 
 in a broker's office during business hours. The 
 looms are usually crowded. Every click of the 
 niaohiue carries" fortune or ruin to some one. 
 Men get up, sit down, look out of the window, 
 walk out ol the door, walk back, smoke, go out, 
 I take a driuk, discuss the chances, pull their 
 I liair, whistle, slap their hands, or break out in 
 ' abrupt expletives. Outside, iu stirring times, 
 men are quite as excited. One day a large 
 crowd gathered in Wall Street. The central fig- 
 ure was a well known operator in Clique Stocks. 
 It is said that he has made and lost more money 
 in speculations than any other man in New York 
 except Jacob Little. He was iu the middle of 
 the street, hat oflf, face flushed, coat thrown 
 back, gesticulating with his hands, following a 
 Tvell-known locker-up of greenbacks, and was 
 ishouting: " There goes Shylock! What's the 
 price of money, Shylock? What's the price of 
 money?" The shouting, and the exciteineut 
 •called all heads to the windows and filled the 
 street with the rabble, that followed the parties 
 several blocks. The man who was shouting 
 *' Shylock," was one of the coolest, most self- 
 possessed of men usually. The man attacked 
 
 was a tall, eUm, fine looking person, very sUght- 
 ly moved by the assault. "What's the price of 
 Erie, Dick ? " " What's the price of Hudson ? " 
 was the response. 
 
 HOW STOCKS ABE BOUGHT AXD SOIiD. 
 
 The present style of business in the street 
 enables a man, with a very small sum ot money, 
 to do a verv large business. With $1,000 he can 
 purchase $10,000 worth of stock. With $10,000 
 he can purchase $100,000. He leaves his order 
 with the broker, puts up his "margin " and his 
 stock is bought and carried for him. The 
 broker can well afford to do this. He is per- 
 fectly safe, for be has the stocks and the margin 
 aa protection. He has every motive to induce 
 his customers to buy largely. He gets the inter- 
 est on his money and a commission for buying 
 and selling. As his commission is only $12.50 on 
 $10,000, he must do a large business" to make 
 anything. When men buy two milUons of stock 
 the commissions amount to something. The bet- 
 ter class of brokers are not ■willing to have cus- 
 tomers who cannot back up their sales. It is 
 troublesome to have to watch the market, and it 
 is unpleasant to sell a customer out. As the 
 stock falls, if buyers do not keep their margin 
 good, the broker must protect himself by selling 
 the stock, and using up the money deposited. 
 
 Immense sums of money are sent into the 
 street from outsiders, who, because they have 
 been successful m dry goods, and other branches 
 
 and regular houses do as legitimate a business 
 as is done bv anv department of trade in New 
 York. 
 
 THE TOMBS. 
 
 of trade, think they can turn $50,000 into $100,- 
 000 iu the street as easily as thev can draw a 
 check. In ume cases out often all such invest- 
 ments are lost. Brokersof course get customers 
 where they can find them. A man iu a success- 
 ful dry goods trade sends down a check with an 
 order to buy a hundred shares of a named 
 stock, and tocarry it thirty days. The stock be- 
 gins to go down. "More margin is called lor. A 
 sudden failure in a mercantile house tells the 
 story. The other day a merchant called upon a 
 broter in Wall Street, handed him $50,000, and 
 asked him to invest it in a stock named. " I 
 will do so, if you wish," said the broker, " but I 
 advise you to Uike a good look at your monev. 
 for you will never see it again. I have been in 
 business in Wall Street thirty -eight years. Dur- 
 ing that time 98 out of every 100 who have put 
 money in the street have lost it." Gamblers in 
 stock and in gold are usually outsiders. They 
 arc the class who speculate in lota, in flour, 
 pork, and coal. Men who make " corners," or 
 try to make them, are model merchants, princely 
 traders, large donors to philanthropic institu- 
 tions, stand high iu society, and preside on the 
 boards of religious and reformatory meetings. 
 These men Bull and Bear stock, "make mer- 
 chants tremble, increase the price of the poor 
 man's coal, lay a heavier tax on every ounce of 
 
 &ALIBLEES AND GAMBLING DENS. 
 
 NrNE-TESTHS of the population of the great city 
 of New York have but a small conception of the 
 number of gambling dens iu operation, or of the 
 vast amount of money daily squandered in this 
 way. Under the very eyes of the police the 
 gamblers prosecute their nefarious calling, and 
 scores of men of all ages are daily enticed into 
 these disreputable dens and invariably ruined. 
 
 Mr. Nathan D. Urner, a journalist of this city, 
 gave, some years ago, in the Kew York Weekly, 
 the following graphic pen-picture of the gammg 
 table: 
 
 In the summer of '65, I was engaged, by a 
 Bouovolent Institution, to write a pamphlet upon 
 the gamblers and gambling houses of New York, 
 which, inasmuch as it involved considerable sta- 
 tistical statementa, required extraordmary pre- 
 Uminary research. 
 
 It was duriug that period following the close 
 of the war and the assassination of President 
 Lincoln, when the moral atmosphere ot the 
 country was in that peculiarly uncertain, almost 
 chaohc, couditiou incidental to a great pohtical 
 reaction. 
 The rapid increase of the evil of gamblmg was 
 one of the most promment 
 ■^ of the darker features, and 
 
 = ^^ the one which it was the 
 
 chief object of my literary 
 mission to arrest, by the 
 compilation of a truthful 
 and accurate account. 
 
 It was at the time esti- 
 mated by the police author- 
 ities that the number of 
 gambling resorts — includ- 
 ing the games of Faro, 
 Keno, Boulette, and the 
 res t— h a d more than 
 doubled in the metropolis 
 within a period of twelve 
 months. 
 
 Keno was especially the 
 "rage" among a certain 
 class at that time, and I 
 had, through my personal 
 acquaintance with the pro- 
 prietor (who, by the way. 
 was a kind-hearted and 
 amiable man, despite his 
 vocation), selected a well- 
 known establishment o n 
 
 Broadway, just above 
 
 Place, as' my chief point of 
 observation, for the pur- 
 pose of taking notes. 
 
 It IS immaterial to de- 
 scribe the mystery of en- 
 trance, the ingenious meth- 
 ods adopted to avoid in- 
 trusion on the part of un- 
 wish»d-for-vi8itors, etc. 
 
 The rooms themselves 
 were gorgeously furnished. 
 They containecl all the al- 
 lurements of voluptuous pictures, luxurious 
 statues, " free lunch," perpetually and elegantly 
 served, and every other inducement for both the 
 incipient and the" veteran gambler; while from a 
 distant chamber, separated from the rest bv 
 green-baize, listed doors, day and night, and all 
 night long, came the rattling whirl of the Keno 
 cylinder, the steady call of the dealer, and, at 
 irregular intervals, the triumphant call of 
 " Keno," which proclaimed the success of one 
 or another of the earnest slaves who surrounded 
 the gaming-board. • 
 
 The game itself maybe readily described. It 
 is simply the child's" game of " Loto," which 
 most of us were familiar with in days gone by. 
 An upright cylinder— keg-UUe in shape, usually 
 of elegantlv-carved rosewood or mahogany, and 
 placed between two small posts— contains a 
 number of round dice, or ivory balls, each of 
 which has its appropriate number in plain black 
 indentation. The dealer sits at the side of this 
 cvlinder, and whirls it round. At every revolu- 
 tion one of the little balls falls from the bottom 
 of the cylinder, and is caught in the hand of the 
 dealer, who calbi off its number, and then places 
 it in a velvet nitch (correspondingly numbered) 
 of an open case placed at his left hand. 
 
 Surrounding a long table, just below and just 
 in front of the small platform on which the dealer 
 
 bread the laboring man eate, and ruin small j or "caller-off" is seated, sit the gamblers mi - 
 
 traders. These men produce the panics of the mersed in the game. • 
 
 day, and not the brokers. Brokers fill orders, ' Before each is placed a large square of paste- 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 13 
 
 boaid chosen at will irom a pack placed in the 
 middle of the table, aud a uuinb(,r ol' little ^lass 
 fragiKonte about half an inch Bquare. The latter 
 are UHed aa counters. Each card contains four 
 rowB of li^urcs. For instance thus: 
 
 46- 
 
 
 ■IS '17 
 
 10 
 
 24 — 1—30 
 _ 50 — 12 — 
 
 9 .. ■2S — 40 
 
 — 20 14 : 
 13 — 5 ■ 
 
 — 12 8 : 
 
 As soon aa the dealer calls the number corre- 
 sponding to the one on the card, the player 
 jDvers that number with a glass counter. When 
 he gets all the numbers ou one horizontal lino 
 eovered in this way, ho calls out " keno," and 
 the stakes, whatever they are, are his. 
 
 If the " auto," or pool, is one dollar a piece, 
 the amount is considerable where the players are 
 Quracrous; but it is often much more. 
 
 Ten per cent, of the winnings are turned into 
 the bank, which thus receives a steady income, 
 notwithstanding the luck, good or bad, of the 
 players. 
 
 In this respect it may be called a "fairer" 
 game than faro, or roulette, since the oppor- 
 tunities of making a " skin-game" (i. e., a game 
 unfair against the player) are little or nothing; 
 while, at the same time, the " bank " has a surety 
 of its ten per cent., and is, therefore, safer as an 
 investment of capital. When carried on upon 
 the " square," as they usually term it, keno is, 
 consequently, a surer profit for its proprietor, 
 and fare a greater fascination lor the player, ou 
 account of the latter affording opportunities for 
 calculation and combinations, wmch may some- 
 times break the bank. This is on 
 the presumption that the game be 
 perlectly " square; " lor, of 
 course, in a cheating game of any 
 kind, the fighter ot tiie " tiger " is 
 always bound to lose in the end. 
 
 I had frequented the keno es- 
 tablishment of which I first made 
 mention many nighis in succes- 
 sion, in the pursuit of my note- 
 taking project, and had ca'refuUy 
 studieil the characters ol the 
 place. 
 
 One of the most remarkable was 
 a young man, who, from his gen- 
 eral appearance and manner, en- 
 chained my interest and sympathy 
 from the start. 
 
 His ago was twenty-eight or 
 thirty. Ho was singularly hand- 
 some, taciturn and melancholy. 
 Eyes large, brown, and beautiful; 
 face delicately cut in every fea- 
 ture; and but for the faintly-lined 
 dark moustache, as soft aud da- 
 mask as a woman's, though utter- 
 ly bloodless — pallid as a ghost's. 
 He was always dressed with irre- 
 proachable taste and neatness, 
 and there was a silent pohteness 
 and grace in his manner which 
 was singularly attractive. He had 
 a ruddy scar on his left temple, 
 and I noticed when I first saw him that the little 
 finger of hie left hand was gone. 
 
 I mention these particulars because many will 
 recognize, in the tragic end of the principal sub- 
 ject of this sketch, the identity of the person in 
 question. 
 
 He came to the Keno House regularly every 
 night, invariably staid till the bank closed— which 
 seldom happened before dayhght— and almost 
 always lost. Bun it up to what amount they 
 might, he never refused the stake, and he lost 
 with a run of bad luck which was something re- 
 markable. His manner of playing was swift, 
 nervous and excited, though except — at rare in- 
 ' tervals- he never opened his lips but to say 
 " keno." The beauty of his face and form, his 
 bloodless countenance, his strange silentness, 
 and his utter, mysterious absorption in the game, 
 early attracted my attention, and there was a pe- 
 culiar far-away look in his eyes for which I could 
 not account. But my curiosity regarding him, 
 though insatiable, was never gratified. Once I 
 accosted huu. Though there was nothmg 
 offensive in his silent, staring rebuff, it was, 
 nevertheless, decisive, and I refrained from a 
 second attempt. 
 
 " He has been coming here for months," the 
 proprietor said to me, " but I can make nothing 
 out of him. J think he hails from Cincinnati. 
 Sometimes he has a streak of luck, but latelv he 
 has lost heavily. But he is always on hand." 
 
 One night, after I had absented myself for a 
 number of weeks from the keno bank, and had 
 aearly completed the data for mv prospective 
 pamphlet, I.again entered the apartments. It 
 
 was very lato, and upwards of thirty plavers 
 were deeply absorbf^l in the ganre." '^' Click, 
 chcli," sounded the rattling balls as the cylinder 
 was whirled by tlio dealer, whoso regular, mou- 
 otouons call of the numbor— interspersed at in- 
 tervals with the Hliari), satisfactory cry ol 
 ' keno," was tlio voice of the scene; and there I 
 saw the familiar figure of young JI. His "'luck" 
 —I wonder if there is such a thing — had changed. 
 The stakes were very largo, and he had already 
 won heavily. Aheap of bills amounting to thou- 
 sands lay before him, and still the tide of fortune 
 flung the money into his lap. 
 
 At length the remainder of the party — many of 
 them out ol lunds and all of them tired of a con- 
 tinned strain of ill-luck — proposed a temporary 
 adjournnient for refreshment, and alter this a 
 game of " poker " was got up, in winch young 
 M. joined. This was an entirely different game, 
 and throughout he was systematically swindled. 
 At first he won, then lost steadily. He grew very 
 nervous as the game proceeded. 
 
 " If you will only leave mo alone, Annie," said 
 he, turning his head , " I may make enough to get 
 us out of our trouble." 
 
 Every one was astonished, for there was no one 
 at his side. His words appeared to be directed 
 to a creature of the air. Beside, he had never 
 spoken so many words during the months he had 
 frequented the rooms. 
 
 " Whom are you talking to? " said a gambler 
 from the opposite side of the table. "There is 
 no one near you." 
 
 He heeded not the questioner, but still spoke 
 absently, though excitedly, with his head turned, 
 I as If addressing an invisible being: | 
 
 as useless except those of M. and the col 1- 
 blooded veteran who sat immediately op(>(iBit& 
 to him. I noticed a feverish Hush of joy on iiie 
 cheek of tlio former. 
 
 " I will go you better t(j the extent of luy nug." 
 said he. " It's all I have, or 1 would go deeper." 
 " IXmc." 
 
 JI. threw up three kings. 
 
 His opponent displayed a couple of aces, uad 
 then for a single instant, held auoUier card Bi hi« 
 hand. 
 
 It was but the turning ofa card; butin itstiirri 
 was involved the dcstinv ofa human eonl. 
 The card fell. 
 
 It was another ace, and the ring was lost. 
 M. arose from the table with apparent uncon- 
 cern, and, as the game still proceeded, sealed 
 luineelf at a small table, aud ordered' r<;frt'BU- 
 nienis. While waiting for them he took a pack 
 of cards from his pocket, scattered them before^ 
 him in an absent way, and then leaned his bead 
 thoughtfully upon his homd. 
 
 I turned my head from him, and turned mv 
 eyes listlessly upon the game, though my minil 
 was occupied with thinking of the strange con- 
 duct of the ruined and mysterious gambler. 
 
 We heard a sudden shot- close, neai and 
 startling. 
 
 M. was still at the table; but with his head 
 a-drop, and a still-smoking pistol grasped in his 
 hand that fell carelessly and motionless at hia 
 side. 
 
 Wo surrounded him at once; but he was quite 
 dead — shot through the heart. 
 
 Wo afterward examined the plain gold rit'g 
 (M.'e last stake upon the " turning of a card ''> 
 and found engraved on the inside. 
 :. "To Annie, viy Bride, from, 
 
 Oeorge M.'' 
 
 The story of the suicide was but 
 bi-iefly reported in the news- 
 papers, and the particulars wer 
 never given to the public; but the 
 strange and remarkable details 1 
 have narrated will be remembered 
 by many of the profession. 
 
 WALL STSEET POINTERS. 
 
 LTJDLOW STREET JAIL. 
 
 '• I tell yoii I can yet save the estate, and you 
 and mother, and all of us, on the mere turning ot 
 a card, and this is a good game. I have studied 
 it thoroughly and know my play, if you won't 
 whisper in my ear." 
 
 They evidently considered him demented, but 
 he said no more and the game went on. 
 
 M. played like an infatuated automatom. He 
 lost all his money; staked his watch — lost that; 
 put up a diamond-cluster ring, and lost that. He 
 evidently had nothing more of value, but a plain 
 gold ring which hooped the third finger of his 
 left baud. It was heavy and bright, but not 
 great in value. He hesitated as if in a kind of 
 trance. 
 
 " Are you going to ' ante?'" said one of his fel- 
 low players, coolly. 
 
 "Yes. How milch will you let me put up for 
 this ? " and, with a quick, convulsive movement, 
 he drew the plain ring trom his finger, and held 
 it up to the light. 
 
 " Twenty dollars." 
 
 The trinket wasn't worth half so much; but 
 even gamblers, when flushed with unusual suc- 
 cess, are generous. 
 
 We all watched him curiously, for, before be 
 let the ring drop into the pool from his hesitating 
 hand, be again turned his head to the person 
 whom he apparently imagined to be at his side, 
 and said: 
 
 " This is my last chance, and I am sure to win 
 upon the turning of a card. What if it was our 
 wedding ring ? It is the last chance. Now don't 
 bother me, Annie." 
 
 The game went on. All bands were thrown up 
 
 The ruling passion of Wall 
 Street 18 togetmoney. Incidental 
 to and inseparable from it is the 
 desii-e for news. It is a perfectly 
 natural desire, for the stock mar- 
 ket, which is the most volatile 
 market in the world, responds to 
 everv rumor and report, and, in 
 the long run, to facte. In Wall 
 Street knowledge is not only 
 power, but it is wealth, providics 
 one can know a thing before 
 everybody else does. The eager- 
 ness to obtain news is more ap- 
 parent than the greed for money. 
 The plainest proof of this is ob- 
 servable in the daily and constant 
 gi'eetings of speculators, brokers, 
 and the host of attaches of the 
 street. They do not, upon meeting, inquire in 
 the usual perfunctory way as to health, but with 
 unfeigned expectation ask: " What do yon 
 hear ? " or " What do you think of things ? " and 
 " How is the market going? " The first inquiry 
 is for information, opinion, or theory either 
 about the market, a particular stock, or the ac- 
 tion of some large operator. The average specu- 
 lator wants to operate on facts. He generally 
 convinces himself that he is doing so. As a mat- 
 ter of fact he is influenced by rumors, hearsay, 
 and lies as much and as often as he is by facts. 
 If he buys a stock or sells one he does so upot. 
 information or belief, and, having entered iipoc, 
 an operation, he is alert for news or gossip abour 
 what, for the moment, is his pet security. In- 
 variably an abundance of material is offered to 
 appease his appetite, but, unfortunately for him, 
 it 18 not often of the right kind. 
 
 As a matter of fact the newspapers do not fally 
 satisfy this voracious appetite for news. The- 
 principal dailies whose reputation for accuracy 
 is established furnish the speculator with simply 
 tlio solid facts, which are frequently known iii 
 the street hours before the publication of a morn- 
 ing paper, and are always utilized by insiders 
 long before they are formally made public. Ru- 
 mors and reports for which there is no founda- 
 tion — and tbey spring up on eveiy side in Wall 
 Street every day — find no place in the papers 
 most respected in the street unless the circula- 
 tion of them produced some noteworthy move- 
 ment in the market. In that case they are 
 noticed for their effect, or for denial. 
 The speculative body does not snflfer, however 
 
12 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 for want of variety, despite the simple, legiti- 
 mate, and Boinewhiat rigid diet offered it by the 
 leaders of the press. 
 
 Half a dozen daily journals devoted wholly or 
 in part to Wall Street intelligence furnish mate- 
 rial that, for variety and uoveltj-, ought to satisfy 
 the most eccentric. 
 
 The demand for special and quick information 
 has also given rise to several news agencies that 
 distribute throughout the day all sorts of facte 
 and fancies, includmg railroad earnings, foreign 
 and other out-of-town market quotations, gen- 
 eral news, rumors, gossip, and opinions. These 
 range from expressions attributed to the leaders 
 in the street to those of " a promment broker " 
 or " a well-known banker." 
 
 But all these contributions do not satisly the 
 speculator. If the material that is furnished 
 him corresponds with his own views, or is favor- 
 able to his operations, it gratifies him, and he is 
 inclined to beUeve it— as a rule accepts it as gos- 
 pel. If it is adverse to his plans and hopes he 
 doubts it, and finally disbeUeves it. What the 
 stock gambler wants more than anything else is 
 information that nobody else has. This desire 
 has nurtured and reared a large and smgular 
 class about the Stock Exchange. Uncle Uafus 
 Hatch, in one of his happy moods, characterized 
 them some years ago as '' pointers." The name 
 was apparently considered appropriate, for it 
 has stuck to the per- 
 sons alluded to. He 
 briefly described a 
 pointer as a person 
 who, without risking 
 any of his own capi- 
 tal, if indeed he has 
 any, persuades some 
 one to operate in the 
 market for joint ac- 
 count upon the al- 
 leged information 
 that he furnishes. 
 According to Uncle 
 Kutiis, t h e Simon- 
 pure pointer manu- 
 factures the informa- 
 .tion he retails. His 
 information upon a 
 certain stock la, ac- 
 ■cordiug to hia own 
 :accouut, most trust- 
 worthy and bullish, 
 and upon a circum- 
 stantial narration of 
 it he persuades some 
 one to buy a. hundred 
 shares or more for 
 their joint profit, the 
 purchaser to assume 
 all loss, it any. At 
 the same time he 
 persuades some one 
 else to sell the same 
 titock upon his exclu- 
 sive and positive in- 
 formation that it is 
 going to decline. He 
 is of course sore to 
 ■win in one case or 
 the other, and he can 
 console the victim 
 ■who loses with talk 
 
 that he himself had been misled, or that the | 
 echemo he was advised ol — in his mind — miscar- 
 ried. This undoubtedly is the method of the | 
 unscrupulous pointer. Simple and barefaced 
 2LH it is, there is no question that it has been i 
 -worked successfully many times. The average 1 
 newcomer is likely game for the pointer who | 
 operates on this basis. 
 
 But the man who expects to continue in the I 
 ■'vismess of giving points and to make a livmg 
 out of it pursues a more business-like and hon- 
 est course. He has to make his money out of 
 people of more or less experience in the street, 
 and ho must furnish them with information of 
 some value in order to induce them to make an 
 operation for Ids benefit, or otherwise pay him 
 for hia news. 
 
 While the pointer, like everybody else, occa- 
 sionally gets hold of a good bit of information 
 bearing upon a particular stock or the general 
 market, he must to a groat extent (all back upon 
 his imagiuatiuu and theories and the opinions of 
 others. When he gives a point, however, he is 
 pretty positive that he is relating facta. That 
 the occupation pays, or at least afford) means of 
 ■existence to those who engage in it, is evident 
 from the many faces that are familiar in New 
 Street, and have been for years, whose possess- 
 ors are known to have done nothing else since 
 tliflp- appeared in the speculative CDimnunity. 
 As & coutiugeut of tho army of gamblcra thev 
 
 may be styled as guerilla scouts. In the ex- 
 pressive tocabulary of Commodore Vanderbilt 
 they would doubtless be defined under the term 
 '■suckers." Each of the score and more of 
 idlers generally acknowledged as pomters who 
 may be seen at any hour of the day about the 
 Stock Exchange, and principally in New Street, 
 has a history. It is part of their stock in trade. 
 They will not tell you all of it, but if they con- 
 template pointing you they will tell you somuch 
 as they may deem necessary to convince you 
 that their previous or present connections "are 
 such as to enable them to get the information 
 they impart. According to their several ac- 
 counts, one is an ex-employee of a trunk line 
 railroad, and has facilities for getting at tho se- 
 crets of its finances and management; another 
 is an ex-telegraph operator, who obtains from 
 his former associates the contents of messages 
 that have been sent or received by large oper- 
 ators; a third is related to some well-known offi- 
 cer of a corporation, from \vhom he gets the 
 most trustworthy information; another has per- 
 tormed some great service for one of the leaders 
 in the market, and received a valuable point in 
 return; this one was once in partnership with 
 somebody who is now a power in the street, and 
 from whom he gets in confidence, now and then, 
 a valuable tip on the market; that one is the 
 bosom friend of a great capitaUst'a confidential 
 
 THE OBikKD CEN'rR.U. DEPOT. 
 
 man; and so on through the list. They always 
 have a plausible reason for knowing what they 
 want you to operate upon. They profess to 
 have overheard orders that have been given; 
 conversations between the great men of the 
 street; to have read from the instrument im- 
 portant dispatches, and to have learned of the 
 operations and condition of aftairs in large stock 
 houses from trusted employees. Some of these 
 professions, a very small portion of tlioni, may 
 be true, but they are much more likely to be 
 simply the embellishments of the pointer upon 
 what he picks up in his ramblings — the gossip, 
 opinions, and theories of Tom, Dick, and Harry. 
 Ho strives, however, to get hold of everv new 
 piece of gossip and every fresh rumor before 
 they assume the shape of definite report and be- 
 come generally current. He at once works in 
 with it the best material he can command to give 
 the story an appearance of probability, attributes 
 its origin to the best source ho dares, and serves 
 the whole up to his prospective victim. If the 
 victim bites, and cither pays him cash for his 
 point or promises him an interest in the stock 
 that is to l)e influenced, the pointer jiroceeds at 
 once to enlighten every one else. He gives it 
 first confidentially, and as a rule to some of his 
 fellow ])ointer8, but within an hour he is sowing 
 it broadcast as an absolute fact. By such meth- 
 ods what was a bit of idle j^ossip in the morning 
 may by uuou bccume a wiJctjprcad and influen- 
 
 tial report not without effect in the market. In 
 that case the pointer is in luck. His prediction 
 is to a certain degree fultilled, and bis reputa- 
 tion as a steeret increased accordingly. The 
 instances in which a point is successfuUy worked 
 up in this manner art- not frequent as compared 
 with the number of etfoita the pointer makes. 
 He is not likely to be correct in his guesses and 
 prophecies oftener than the average Wall Street 
 habitue. 
 
 As a class the pomters are rather a sorry-look- 
 ing set, and but for the questionable methods 
 that they resort to for a livehhood one might al- 
 most pity them. Their ranks are recruited ftom 
 broken-down speculators and brokers, discarded 
 clerks and runners who have got above their 
 business. Many of them are men who have been 
 fortunate. All of them are slaves to stock gam- 
 bling, and are too lazy to work for a hving. One 
 'of them boasts of the salary he used to draw 
 from one of the large railroad companies, and 
 asserts that the concern would be only too glad 
 to regain his services. " But I cannot afford to 
 work for such pay as that," he says magnificent- 
 ly. Yet an additional shade or two of dirt and 
 seediness would clothe him as a tramp. Most 
 of them dress m the remnants of former pros- 
 perity. A few, however, apparently keep on 
 good terms mth their tailors. The most distin- 
 guished in this respect is a young man who, ac- 
 cording to his own 
 account, was brought 
 to New York from 
 the West some three 
 years ago by a gen- 
 tle man who then 
 held a promment of- 
 ficial position in the 
 Western Union Tele- 
 graph Company. He 
 leaves it to his hear- 
 ers to imagine a va- 
 riety of reasons as to 
 why he was thus in- 
 troduced into New 
 York, insinuating 
 that it was some im- 
 portant mission for 
 which he was thor- 
 oughly qualified. He 
 used to be a tele- 
 graph operator, and 
 can, of course, by lis- 
 tening to the insti'u 
 nient or by o t h e i 
 means, get' a g^eat 
 deal of valuable in- 
 formation. At least 
 he says he can. He 
 hkes to convince the 
 person whom he de- 
 sires shall contribute 
 to his funds that he 
 is an expert operator, 
 and to that end will 
 get them to experi- 
 ment with him. He 
 IS a good talker, 
 plausible, and posi- 
 tive in his state- 
 ments. He will bet 
 ^ a fair sum on his as- 
 
 sertions when begets 
 a chance, but doesn't put up the cash if he can 
 help it. In fact, he is likely to back down if it is 
 insisted that the stakes be" put up. If he wins 
 he collects the bet; it he loses he lets the other 
 man collect it if ho can. As a rule (he other 
 man can't do it. His financial methods serve to 
 illustrate those of the average pointer. He owes 
 every one he could borrow from, for when a 
 pointer can't sell a point he borrows if he can, 
 sometimes on the strength of a point he is going 
 to deliver or of one he has given. The young 
 man referred to sports at the end of his hst o( 
 creditors an industrious bootblack to whom his 
 liabilities are $3.50, partlv for shines, but princi- 
 pallv borrowed money, ^ow this humble, hard- 
 working, and honest creditor regards bis claim 
 mav be inferred from the fact that all the other 
 bootblacks in the street have the point not to 
 shine the pointer except for cash. While few of 
 the species bear the appearance of active, pros- 
 perous brokers, and most of them the air of dis- 
 tressed gentilitv, there arc others who impress 
 one as being substantial men of business. Their 
 advanced years, respectable dress and air, quiet 
 wavs, and sohd bearing stand them in good stead 
 as 'stock in trade. There is fraternal feeling 
 among the pointers. They cultivate each other's 
 society more than that of any one else, and in 
 groups of two or half a dozen "or more hang over 
 the railiuss in New Street, lounge about the sa- 
 loon doors, or obstruct legitimate busiuees in the 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 13 
 
 middle of the street all day long. They trade 
 points, jointly muuufacturo them, and concoct 
 plans lor getting money without caruiug it. They 
 talk stocks continually, and have more to say 
 about the market than all of the rest of thoastroel 
 together. Any one of thoui can talk a seusible man 
 tired from his head to his feet m less than lifteen 
 Mumutcs. At night they frequent the Windsor 
 and the Fifth Avenue Hotels still on the warpath 
 for points and patrons. They arc not always 
 I expensive fellows as to price. If they can't get 
 any one to turn a hundred shares for them they 
 will content themselves with a half, a third, or a 
 quarter interest in a hundred shares. If they 
 are hard up and haven't much coulidcncc in tho 
 point in hand themselves, they will come down 
 to a cash basis and to $5, if a higher price can- 
 not be obtained. Not long ago an extra valuable 
 point on one of the Yanderbiu stocks was offereil 
 to a partner in one of the leading stock houses. 
 It was a positive, warranted sure, high-priced 
 point. As no bid was made for it the price was 
 gradually reduced to a small amount in cash. 
 Finally, the broker to whom it was offered said 
 ho TTOuld not give a cent for it unless ho know 
 ■where it came from. He wanted the pointer to 
 tell how it was possible for him to obtain such 
 valuable information. 
 
 The young man hesitated a while, saying that 
 it would be indelicate as well as a breach of 
 confidence, and tinally in diffident and blushing 
 confidence revealed that he obtained it from a 
 lady firiend who was on intimate terms with one 
 of the great railroad magnates of the country. 
 He was quietly yet earnestly requested to take 
 himself, hie point, and his lady friend to the 
 place that according to the Scriptures is set 
 apart for aH Uars. 
 
 Can an occupation so largely de- 
 pendent upon fraud and deceit be 
 profitable ? The answer is that a 
 large number of men who do little or 
 nothing and, so far as can be learned, 
 have no visible means of support, 
 work for points, sell points, live, and 
 at times have a little money. The 
 only things else they are known to 
 do for a living is to gamble in the 
 bucket shops when they have a few 
 dollars, scalp a commission now and 
 then from a privilege broker, or oc- 
 casionally " shove a pad." Ask an 
 old Wall Street man what one of these 
 indolent fellows does for a living, and 
 he will reply that " he probably does 
 the best he can," and add that he is 
 u " mystery." The term is synony- 
 mous " with ^tocle Kufus's pomter. 
 Occasionally ofle of them succeeds in 
 attaching himself to an operator and 
 is retained for months at a time. It 
 is tair to assume that he is employed, 
 not so much for the particular points 
 he may bring in as for a gatherer of 
 the gossip and rumors that are afloat, 
 some of which, if promptly deUvered, 
 may be considered of value by the 
 patron. One of them has apparently borne close 
 relatione with a speculator ol some magnitude in 
 a New Street office for more than three years. 
 The two seem to be almost inseparable. " They 
 are together when down town, except when the 
 " mystery " is working his fellow pointers, and 
 invariably in each other's company in the up- 
 town resorts. As a rule the credulity and ava- 
 aice of their victims are punished with a loss. 
 
 The experience of one speculator may serve 
 to illustrate that of many others. Tho specu- 
 lator was a man of ample means, and had been 
 successful in his ventures. Without consulting 
 his brokers, whose advice he had always sought, 
 he entered upon speculations that amazed them 
 and for which he offered no satisfactory reason. 
 •One day one of his brokers ran across him in 
 earnest conversation with a young man who had 
 once hold a position ot trust in a banking house 
 and since his discharge had acquired the repu- 
 tation of being a pointer. In a subsequent con- 
 versation between the broker and his customer 
 the latter admitted that his recent ventures in 
 the market had been based upon the advice and 
 alleged information of the young man mentioned. 
 The broker warned his customer against such a 
 course, but Trithout avail. To conceal his new 
 operations from those who protested against his 
 making them he opened accounts in several other 
 Dffices. After he had lost over $200,000, by 
 speculating upon pointer advices and points, he 
 stopped. In transactions in which he made 
 money ho paid his pointer well, and at the end 
 of the game that worthy put in a claim for profits 
 that might have been taken upon transactions 
 that showed a slight profit before they resulted 
 .in lose. 
 
 CONFIDENCE GAMES AND OTHEB 
 SWINDLES. 
 
 Farmers and all other strangers, who for busi- 
 ness or pleasure visit Now York, should be aware 
 that there aro gangs of scoundrels who make it 
 their business to lay in wait for, and entrap 
 everyone who has Hie appearance of, a stranger. 
 
 THE PETER FUNK AUCTIONS 
 
 wore, some years ago, doing a great business. 
 These auction shops were in the most frequented 
 streets, and their trade, the selling of worthless 
 watches and bogus jewelry, was carried on 
 openly and boldly. Whenever a stranger could 
 bo tempted into ono of these dens, he was quite 
 sure to bo fleeced. He sometimes made a com- 
 plaint to the authorities, and if he went with tho 
 officers to make arrests, tho victim failed to 
 identify a single person who was concerned in 
 the swindle. Several of these shops were under 
 the same management, and as soon as a sale had 
 been made in one of them, the auctioneer and 
 his confederates all went to one of the other 
 shops, and exchanged places with the inmates, 
 and when an attempt was made to arrest, no one 
 engaged in a sale could be found. All other 
 methods of breaking up these mock auction 
 shops falling, at length a police officer was sta- 
 tioned in front of each, with instructions to warn 
 all who were tempted to enter of tho character 
 of the business. This completely broke up the 
 concerns. "Peter Funk " — the name often given 
 by the auctioneer, if arrested — now no longer 
 sells worthless jewelry and watches. He some- 
 times sells furniture " of a family breaking up 
 housekeeping." It is remarkable that the family 
 
 cipal streets, and waylay the passengers from 
 the depots and ferry-boats. When one of these 
 chaps sees a Well-to-do looking person, who is 
 oviuontly a stranger, he rushes up to him, shakes 
 his hand, with: "How ti/) you do, Mr. Jones, 
 when did you come down, and how did you leave 
 nil the good people at Ijttletown?" Tho stranger , 
 may say: " Vou aro mistaUcii, sir; my name ia 
 not Jones; I am Mr. Smith, of Four Corners." 
 He will not walk far, before a confederate of tho 
 first will salute hiiu as " Mr. Smith," and insist i 
 on inquiring about " the folks at Four Corners." f 
 This opens the way to a more familiar acquaint- .i 
 ance, and tho man from " Four Corners is in- ■. 
 duced to accompany his new found friend to look ' 
 at some recent purchase he has made. There a 
 game of cards is in progress, and in a short time 
 tho stranger is persuaded to play. He wins 
 again and again, and loses with astonishing reg- 
 ularity. Ho soon finds himself largely m debt, 
 and is fortunate if ho escapes with only the loss 
 of the ready money in liis iJossossiou. Tho 
 " game " is an old one, and tho " danger signal " 
 has often been raised to warn the unwary. But 
 no "game "is more successfully or more fre- 
 quently played. Hudibras thinks " the pleasure 
 is as great of being cheated as to cheat," and 
 perhaps it is on this principle that so many 
 worthy people are made the dupes of sharpers. 
 A case in point occurred in Boston, 
 
 N3W YORK TTNIVEKSITY. 
 
 is a long while in "breaking up," as the furni- 
 ture is sold in the same house every day for 
 months. Such sales are supplied with showy 
 but miserable furniture, made for the purpose. 
 Bureaus have been sold without drawers, the 
 fronts being fastened m place, and other shams 
 are common. 
 
 AUCTION SAXiES OF C10AB3 
 
 are just now among the leading auction swindles. 
 There are several stores, in the busy streets, 
 where the "going," " going " of these chaps 
 may be heard all day long. A store is hired, 
 boxes of cigars — or more likely cigar boxes — are 
 placed in the window and on "the shelves, and a 
 red flag ia hung at the door. The auctioneer 
 cries and hammers away to an audience of two 
 or three confederates, with usually one venera- 
 ble looking old rascal among them. If a stranger, 
 attracted by the noise, looks in, bidding goes on 
 Uvely. If a smoker, he may be tempted to bid, 
 when a lot of ten boxes is going, and he can get 
 it by bidding five dollars. The usual trick is 
 this: The stranger thinks he buys the lot of five 
 or ten boxes for his bid, but soon finds that the 
 bid was of that amount lor each box. There are 
 witnesses to that effect, and the buyer is often 
 frightened into pajiug a high price for cigars 
 which are worth nothing. A stranger in New 
 York or in any other city should avoid all auc- 
 tions. 
 Another trap is laid by what are known as 
 
 BANCO STEEREES. 
 
 These were formerly more prominent in Chi- 
 cago than elsewhere, but now every large city 
 is infested by them. They promenade the pric- 
 
 BANCO-STEEllER FITEOEBALD AND CHARLES FRANCIS 
 ADAMS 
 
 being the conspicuous parties. Mr. Adams, an 
 aged and honored citizen, was taken m hand by 
 a plausible, well-spoken voung man, and con- 
 ducted to a den occupied by sharpers, whore he 
 was induced to play cards and forced 
 to give his checks for a large amount 
 of money, his alleged losses. Banco- 
 steeror Fitzgerald reckoned without 
 his host. He supposed that Mr. 
 Adams and his family would be de- 
 terred from making the circum- 
 stances public, and upon their silence 
 he depended for the quiet enjoy- 
 ment of Ins ill-gotten gains. But his 
 dream was rudely dispelled bv tho 
 unexpected conduct of the Aclams 
 family, who hunted up Fitzgerald 
 and ills associates, and prosecuted 
 them to the lull extent of the law, as 
 Fitzgerald, now in prison for his 
 crime, has found to his cost. These 
 Banco-steerers seek their victims 
 everywhere, not only in city streets, 
 but on steamboats and the cars. 
 
 THERE IS BUT ONE SAFE COURSE 
 
 for those who travel or who find 
 themselves in a stiange city. That 
 is, to repel the approaches of every 
 one who is disposed to bo too familiar. 
 Do not admit that you are a stranger 
 in the city to whicli you are destined, 
 and dechne all offers to serve as a 
 guide. Above all, never enter a 
 building of any kind with a person unknown to 
 you. 
 
 An illustration of the necessity for the warn- 
 ing has been furnished by 
 
 A DISTINGUISHED STEAXGEK. 
 
 He was not from the rural districts and unused 
 to cities, but came from the old country as a poet 
 and an exponent of aesthetics and a lecturer on 
 the beautiful. He thought " small beer " of the 
 Atlantic, Niagara was an "utterly utter '' disap- 
 pointment, and our fondness for cast-iron stoves 
 an offence to his sense of the sweet pretty. Oscar 
 was one day accosted on the street by a young 
 man who was very glad to meet him. The young 
 man was " Mr. Drexel," so he said, a son of the 
 celebrated banker; he had seen the poet in his 
 father's banking house, and took the liberty, etc. 
 As Oscar had been in the office, he accepted the 
 " younger Drexel " as all right, and accompanied 
 him to a house in one of the uptown streets. 
 
 Some men were playing a game with dice, and 
 " young Drexel " played and won largely. The 
 poet was asked to play; he did so, and won. En- 
 couraged, he won more. The stakes were en- 
 larged, and Oscar did not win, but lost, and lost 
 again. Determined to recover his losses, he 
 played on, until he lost in all $1,160. He gave 
 hischecks for that sum, and suspecting, m spite 
 of " Mr. Drexel," thai, all was not right, he drove 
 in haste to the bank and stopped payment of the 
 checks. He then visited the pohce station, but, 
 with true poetic abstraction, conld not tell what 
 street thenouse was in, and the police conld do 
 nothing. Oscar was asked to look at the pictures 
 in the Rogues' Gallery, where he soon found the 
 portrait of hia friend '"' Drexel " in that of a persoB 
 
14 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 known to the police aa " Hungry Joe," and a 
 noted Banco steerer. 
 
 Oecar soon left for home— he could find noth- 
 ing beautiful m this " beastly" country— yet he 
 cannot deny that he was most beautilully swin- 
 dled. 
 
 THE BOWERY AT MIDNIGHT, 
 
 The Bowery, writes Sam. A. Mackeever in 
 "Glimpses of Gotham,' published by Richard 
 K. Fox, is one of New York's representative 
 streets, and is always interesting. Broadway! 
 Fifth Avenue! the Bowery! — those are terms fa- 
 miliar to thousands who have never seen 
 America. 
 
 Crossing Broadway at Eighth Street, we notice 
 that that monster thoroughfare is in a doze. 
 Nothing is heard but the rattle of the wheels of 
 the last stages as they forge along with their 
 blinking ligbta. Cabmen lay around the Sinclair 
 House and " Mike Murray s " place, and scan 
 the street up and down with tne fond idea of 
 catching a drunken man, or some one who has 
 conceived the plan of making a night of it. Broad- 
 way below Fourteenth Street is dead after mid- 
 night. We leave it willingly and turn into the 
 Bowery, around the corner of the Cooper Union. 
 
 It is another city. The first block we see is 
 nothing but a string of liquor saloons, with a 
 bank and a drug store thrown in to break the 
 monotony. The cellars are eating houses — all- 
 Dight places, whose lights stream up to mix in 
 splendor with those 
 radiating from the 
 bars. 
 
 Let ns go in to ore 
 of the first so-called 
 hotels that we meet. 
 This establishment 
 never closes ita eyes. 
 The young man be- 
 hind the bar is as 
 fresh as a daisy, and 
 should be, because 
 he has just come 
 on. But what trade 
 do they have ? Plen- 
 ty of trade. The 
 men in the Tomp- 
 kins Market must 
 have their periodi- 
 cal drinks; so must 
 the policeman. Up 
 to 2 o'clock in the 
 morning the busi- 
 ness is but a contin- 
 uation of that of the 
 day. Between 2 and ^^■'■'■■^Qjr^ 
 5 o'clock the early Si*'-^'- -- 
 workers, dealers in 
 newspapers, young 
 men who went to 
 bed at midnight, hot '~^; 
 with r u ni, and '^fe' 
 couldn't sleep — they ""^" 
 come in for their 
 drama. 
 
 On a couple of 
 chairs, heads sprawled upon the beer-stained 
 tables, are customers who could no more go 
 homo than fly. The bar-tender shakes snores 
 out of them' and returns disgusted to his 
 work. 
 
 Suddenly the bell at the side door rings. Were 
 we outside wo would see a gentleman and lady 
 standing in the entry. The lady has her veil 
 down, although the precaution is unnecessary, 
 since the gas is turned so low that it seems a 
 mere speck of red in the luridly-tinted globe. 
 
 By the operation of an electric bell, manipula- 
 ted ou the platfoi'iii iip-stairs, the door flies open. 
 The couple enter and ascend the first landing, 
 where, in an ante-room filled with bottles and 
 dishes, stands a servant who knows his business. 
 He is a combination of politeness, suavity and 
 silence. 
 
 The couple desire a supper room. 
 
 " Certainly. St«p this way." 
 
 And be glides down a long hall, filled with the 
 murmur of conversation from rooms on either 
 side, until he comes to No. 10. There is the 
 flash of a match, and a neat apartment, fur- 
 nished with table, chairs and a lounge, is re- 
 vealed. 
 
 We don't see auy of this, but we hear the order 
 for oysters, salad and a bottle of wine, which are 
 consumed in No. 10. Sometimes the wine has a 
 marvelous effect upon the silent, timid, hesitat- 
 ing woman who was so closely veiled at the 
 street door. She talks in a loud voice; she 
 sings. It is not the strangest thing in the world 
 «ven for the couple m the adjoining supper- 
 
 room to join in the tun and eventually to pro- 
 pose making it all one party. 
 
 As we go down, the Bowery becomes a succes- 
 sion of beer gardens, huge, Brilliantly illuminat- 
 ed places, with an army of waiters, and a stage 
 at one end on which appear variety actors. The 
 dramatic part of the bill is not of a very high 
 order, but we don't expect it to be. 
 
 Who is that young lady in the seal-skin sacque 
 who has just sank into a seat ahead of us, only 
 to be surrounded by about sis fast-looking 
 young men, who almost fight in their eagerness 
 to treat her ? 
 
 " Make it a schooner. Max," she says to the 
 waiter in a tone of easy famiUarity; "I'm thirs- 
 ty." Then she unbuttons her seal-skin, leans 
 back, puts her feet on a chair opposite, and 
 wipes the perspii'ation and pamt from her hard, 
 brazened face. 
 
 " Who is she. Max ? " 
 
 "Her? oh, she's the gal the man chucks the 
 knives at. Want to know her ? " 
 
 " No, thank you."' 
 
 So we are in the society of a beer garden 
 queen. She is holding her regular court. Her 
 knife-thrower is on in the pantomime, and she 
 has to wait for him. 
 
 The running of the cars all night keeps the 
 Bowery alive. Some of those that come down 
 from Harlem have regular gangs of pirates on 
 board, drunken men and women who fight, throw 
 the conductor and driver ofif, smash the windows 
 and yell murder. This is especially so in the 
 summer time when moonlight picnics are in full 
 
 Kll I'U AVKMK lUVlK 
 
 blast. I would as hcf be on at slave ship, 
 where the crew all wear red shirts, as ride in 
 some of the Bowery street cai°s in the hours along 
 towards morning. 
 
 Approaching Chatham Square the Bowery be- 
 comes more degraded. It has any quantity cf 
 all-night saloons in cellars, which are veritable 
 entrances to Hades. Look at the painted, gaud- 
 ily-be-ribboned hag cajoling the nonest sailor, 
 who is very drunk, into entering one of these 
 places. 
 
 He stumbles against the door, behind whose 
 cnmson curtain the gas blazes, and as it is burst 
 open, we see a monstrous, bloated woman in the 
 bar, and five or six bedizened females in tawdry 
 Turkish costumes, making love to as many 
 drunken individuals, while a young man in sred 
 necktie bangs away at the piano. 
 
 The door closes. Our sailor friend is swal- 
 lowed up. It were better for him bad he been 
 wrecked at sea, and landed on a desert island. 
 
 FALLEN ANGELS. 
 
 Thr£E years ago last July, wrote Nathan D. 
 Urner in a series of articles published in the 
 New Yo)-k Weekly, under the title of " Metropol- 
 itan Shadow Scenes," I was induced to visit the 
 three or four " Homes " for the reformation of 
 those unfortunate -Heaven alone knows how un- 
 fortunate! — who make up in society the element 
 now generally known as the " Social Evil," and 
 I remember the superintendent of one of them 
 
 saying to me: " It has often astonished me to Sncl 
 in these women such contradictory characteris- 
 tics of good and evil. While the mind, as a gen- 
 eral thmg, appears absolutely depraved, and the 
 spirit sunken to the lowest depths, I frequently 
 find a greatheartedness, a generosity of feeling, 
 and other impulsive and noble traits, which, it 
 is difficult to imagine, can spring up in the same 
 breast." 
 
 He was a religious, deep-feeling gentleman, 
 and my own experience has verified his words to 
 the letter. 
 
 The most remarkable instance that has come ' 
 under my personal knowledge involves a wild ' 
 and romantic history, which I think can hardly 
 fail to prove intereshng. 
 
 It was a cold, autumnal evening — many au- 
 tumns since — and just at that period when the 
 great tide of work-people was pouring up Chat- 
 ham Street from the lower districts of the East- 
 side. Wearied with overwork at the quill my- 
 self, and cold and hungry, I had joined the 
 throng for home, heedless of anything but the 
 desire to reach home as soon as possible, when a 
 young woman accosted me at the corner of 
 "Catherine Street. My moral sensibihties were 
 somewhat shocked, but it was a circumstance so 
 common to any one in New York, that I hurried 
 on without looking at her. But she sprang be- 
 fore me again and again, until, surprised at her 
 persistency, I looked at her, with an angry com- 
 ment prepared. 
 
 But the words died on my lips, tlie f»ce was 
 so instinct with love and beauty, and the youth- 
 ful form so graceful 
 and delicate in its 
 modest garb. 
 
 " I did not ask 
 for money," she 
 said, in a "hurried, 
 trembling tone. " I 
 have stood at that 
 street corner for an 
 hour, studying the 
 face of every one in 
 this great crowd for 
 sympathy, and you 
 are the "only one I 
 have ventured to 
 accost. lamhome-i 
 less and penniless. 
 I dare not go to a 
 station-house for a 
 lodging. Is there 
 not some place, 
 some charitable in- 
 stitution where I — 
 I jffii stop for a 
 while ? Pray, do 
 not be angiy with 
 mo for inaKmg the 
 request." 
 
 I was by no means 
 greatly incensed 
 at it, atid kindly 
 mentioned several 
 respectable board- 
 ing-houses, where 
 I thought she might 
 obtain board with- 
 out paying in advance. A blush of shame quick- 
 ly overspread her face, and her head drooped. 
 
 " I see, sir, you — you do not comprehend. I 
 — I am not a decent 'woman, sir, and want to try 
 to be." 
 
 I was surprised, but only for a moment, for as 
 I looked at her more intently, it was easy to 
 read, even through such a lovely mask, the un- 
 mistakable air of a fallen woman — the uncon- 
 scious air which once assumed can so seldom be 
 replaced by the innocence and virtue of the 
 past. 
 
 I then remembered one of the " Homes " of 
 which I have spoken, and though it was far out 
 of my wav, she volunteered to accompany mo 
 thither. 6he complied with a glance of genuine 
 gratitude, and in an hour I had the satisfaction 
 of seeing her warmlv and comfortably housed, 
 and provided with all the entertainment of the 
 mstitution, which was one of the most excellent 
 of its kind in the city. 
 
 She remained there for a number of months, 
 during which a number of interviews with heron 
 my part, elicited her entire history, which was a 
 strange and wild one, even for one of her class. 
 When her reformation was supposed to be per- 
 fect, she was, in accordance witli the rules of the 
 institution, sent to a Western State, where de- 
 cent employment was provided for her. 
 
 Nearly three years thereafter, I received a note 
 from the Supe"rintendent of the " Home," re- 
 questing me to call upon him at my earliest con- 
 venience. 
 " I sent for you," said he, taking my hand very 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 15 
 
 1,'ravelv, as I entered hia office, "to accompany 
 nie to-^^ — Hospital, to see an old friend of yoiiiH 
 who in probably dying with the dulirium trc- 
 wens." , , , , 
 
 D.-lirium tremens! What " friend had I, who 
 was given to excessive drink? None! There 
 moat be some mistake. 
 
 " You shall see," said ho; and I straightway 
 accompanied him to the hospital ho had named. 
 
 Ravings, oaths and curses, mingled with terri- 
 fied cries, greeted our oars, as wo were being 
 escorted to a certain ward of the hospital. Upon 
 entering, we perceived a female from whom 
 these cries proceeded. She was tied by a strong 
 cord to the couch upon which she lay, and phy- 
 sicians and other attendants wore around her; 
 but she still waved her arms, and strove to burst 
 away, giving vent to heartrending appeals and 
 frightened cries, as though she wished to lly 
 from imaginary fiends. 
 
 One glance at the bloodshot eyes, the wild, in- 
 flamed countenance, was sufficient; and I stood 
 transfixed with grief and amazement. 
 
 It was she— my lovely protege of crowded 
 Chatham Street, whom, three years before, I had 
 introduced to the " Home," of wliich my friend 
 •was Superintendent. 
 
 She— and yet how woefully, wildly, fearfully 
 changed! 
 
 Gone the bright glance of the sweet blue eyes, 
 the soft smile of the tender lip, the melodious 
 <race of the round form! Gone every trace, 
 vestige, line, trait, hnea- 
 
 flient of the past. By what 
 
 wild ways, through what 
 8iu, and shame, and suflfer- 
 ing, had this terrible trans- 
 formation been affected, 
 the all-BOoing eye of God 
 alone could know. 
 
 She must hare wandered 
 far in those brief years, 
 for the broken words of her 
 •delirium were Spanish, and 
 French, and German, as 
 well ae of her native 
 tongue. Now she would 
 suddenly become subdued, 
 and converse with an im- 
 aginary friend in a tone not 
 3,11 devoid of the trembling 
 sweetness of yore; then, 
 as the flames of the fever 
 once more raged on high, 
 she would shriek and 
 moan, and curse, until the 
 blood curdled at the fright- 
 ful sounds. 
 
 The physician informing 
 lis that there was no hope, 
 that she could last but a 
 few hours, and it being evi- 
 dent that we could do no- 
 thing, my friend and I 
 turned sadly away. Upon 
 our return to his office, he 
 told me what he had gath- 
 ered of this poor girl's 
 history since she had quit- 
 ted the institution, and 
 joining this with what I 
 knew of her previous life, 
 I am able to afford the fol- 
 lowing brief sketch of one of whom I shall call 
 
 ■' sweet •ixteen " Margaret's hour of fate arrived. 
 A distant relative paid a flying visit from the 
 metropolis to her father's house. He was a 
 young gentleman, a gay, dashing fellow, with all 
 the cuarm of manner and person calculated to 
 win a village maiden's heart. He wan moreover 
 a villain and a scoundrel— but Margaret knew 
 nothing of this. 
 
 She was fascinated from the first. In a day 
 she liked, in a week she loved, and the gay visi- 
 tor did not neglect to improve his opportunities. 
 But the father of Margaret had, in the meantime, 
 heard rumors from the metropolis by no mcaas 
 favorable to the character of his distant, but fas- 
 cinating, relative — rumors that he was an out- 
 cast from his own family and respectable friends 
 
 — in other words, a gambler, drunkard and 
 
 Satisfying himself of the truth of those reports, 
 the farmer, a stern but good man, ordered the 
 deceiver — his name was Marston Grant — from 
 the house, and forbade his daughter to have any 
 further communication with him. But alas, 
 Margaret, in her folly and passion, had already 
 overstepped that boundary, the crossing of which 
 is the first step to a woman's ruin, and she was 
 not the first to forget her duty to her parents in 
 a blind devotion to a worthless lover. 
 
 There were clandestine meetings without num- 
 ber, and finally an elopement agreed upon. One 
 sweet silent mght of summer, Margaret stole si- 
 lently out of her father's house. 
 The garden and lawn were flooded with moon- 
 
 CENTBAL PABK. 
 
 ,, _ light, and the sleeping world was happy in its 
 
 Margaret — purposely concealing the last name, I dream of peace, but Margaret paused irresolute 
 
 lightning flash, and she swooned away. Sliewaa 
 ill a delicate condition at the time, and was con- 
 fined to a bod of lingering, painful suffering 
 soon afterward. 
 
 One morning, the final crushing blow came. 
 There came a hasty note from her betrayer. He 
 had committed forgery, was detected, and had 
 to flee for his guilty life. Ho also made con- 
 fession of the manner in which she had been be- 
 trayed, and had the heartlcssuesH to prop<>He 
 that she should go to a friend of hie— " a perfect 
 gentleman in every respect ''—who would take 
 good care of her, and treat her as his wife. 
 
 She sank beneath the crushing blow, and dur- 
 ing the shock her child was born. Wlien she 
 was sufficiently recovered, the landlady of the 
 house — whose true character liad ere this 
 dawned upon the wretched woman— called upon 
 her, and spoke to her gently, but cruelly. 
 
 The furniture had never belonged to Marston; 
 all the splendor by which the country-bird had 
 been caged was another's; there were already 
 largo arrears of rent and attendance, and the 
 apartments must be vacated. Away was hinted 
 at whereby they might be easily retained, but 
 aiargaret rejected the proposition with spirit and 
 pride. 
 
 She removed to humbler rooms, sold most of 
 her wardrobe, and for a short time was enabled 
 to support herself and little one. She was too 
 delicate and inexperienced to work, and one by 
 one, dress by dress, her jewels and wardrobe 
 disappeared, until almost 
 nothing was left; and, with, 
 her baby in her arms, she at 
 last wandered the etreeta. 
 What a desert they are, in 
 spite of their busy crowds, 
 when one is penniless and 
 homeless. 
 
 At length, from the 
 depths of her moaning 
 heart, there was reached 
 forth a yearning to look 
 once more upon the old 
 farm-house, the sweet 
 home of the innocent past. 
 She had just enough 
 money to make the trip, 
 and return; and it was 
 again in the silent beauty 
 of a sweet midsummer 
 night that she found her- 
 self at the entrance of the 
 well-remembered garden. 
 She stole timidly up the 
 light-flooded walks — every 
 object of which was famil- 
 iar — took a refreshing 
 draught at the dear old 
 well, and then crept stealth- 
 ily into the shadow of that 
 doorway from which she 
 had stepped mto the 
 treacherous moonlight 
 scarce a year before. 
 
 She grasped the old-fash- 
 ioned brazen knocker, and 
 now stood irresolutely as 
 then, and, in a moment, as 
 great with fate as then. 
 All might be forgiven, if 
 she would but enter; life 
 might yet be bright and cheerful, should she but 
 sound that old brass lion-head against the dingy 
 
 as her heart-broken parents are still living iu 
 ithe western part of New York. 
 
 THE STOBV OF MABGABET. 
 
 Margaret, at the age of sixteen, was the beauty 
 and belle of the county in which her father was 
 one of the most well-to-do farmers. 
 
 She was just blossoming into the glory and 
 charm of womanhood — tall for her age, and 
 graceful as a fawn. Her eyes were large, blue 
 and melting, her hair of crisp, bright gold, and 
 «her sweet oval face meet for the study of a 
 'painter. These advantages of person, added to a 
 singularly sprightly, and amiable, though not 
 very well balanced disposition, rendered her un- 
 rivaled in the rustic and village circles in which 
 she moved. There was no foot so light as Mar- 
 garet's in the dance, no laugh so merry in the 
 sleighing party, no wit so sparkling in the sea- 
 son's merrymakings. 
 
 There was not a young swain in the country 
 far around who was not in love with her, and 
 who would not gladly have married her; but 
 Margaret, with the capricious consciousness of 
 beauty, was not easy to win, and the susceptible 
 bosom of rustic masculinity sighed in vain. 
 
 But there is a turning-point, a pivotal moment 
 in the life of every woman which makes her des- 
 -tiny lor good or evil, and just at this period of 
 
 in the dark shadow of the doorway. It was that 
 one single, pivotal moment, her o\vn decision of 
 which was to define the course of a life-time. 
 
 She faltered but an instant iu hesitation, 
 stepped from the shadow in the moonlight, and 
 was lost forever. 
 
 The dark grove that skirted the near railway 
 station was gained, he was there, the eastward 
 thundering train came rushing in, and in an- 
 other moment parent, homo, honor, everything, 
 was forgotten, as the fair young head of Margaret 
 drooped in slumber upon her deceiver's breast. 
 
 After the performance of a sham marriage 
 contract — which the trusting woman, of course, 
 imagined to be correct — Marston introduced her 
 into apartments whose elegance was most un- 
 usual and dazzling, made her acquainted with 
 friends as brilliant and fascinating as herself, 
 and for a while the intoxication of her first love- 
 dream was perfect and complete. 
 
 Slowly but surely the spell was broken. The 
 passion of her lover having spent its novel force, 
 he grew first cold, then indifferent, and then 
 brutal. He would remain away all night, and 
 sometimes for days and nights, and upon his re- 
 turn answer her meek questions with oaths. 
 
 Once ho struck her, and then she gave a sharp, 
 quick cry, like a wounded thing, the extent and 
 fullness" of her misery broke upon her with a 
 
 plate. 
 
 For an instant she lingered, with the knocker 
 in her hand, irresolutely, with shame, pride, and 
 true feeling contending for the mastery; and then 
 letting it fall from her hand, she wrapped her 
 little one closer to her breast, and, with a low, 
 moaning cry, fled from the house, cut of the 
 garden, out into the world, and, a second time, 
 was lost. 
 
 Her baby died shortly after her return to the 
 city. Her beauty attracted the attention of a 
 man of wealth, 'and at last, broken-hearted, 
 broken-spirited, she yielded to his importunities, 
 and thus thoroughly inaugurated her passage 
 down the stairway whose steps are so slippery 
 and steep. From one to another she passed, 
 and from one phase of infamy to another — down, 
 down, down! 
 
 It was during one of her momentary fits of re- 
 pentance that 1 had first met her. 
 
 After her transfer to the West, and afler her 
 final fall from grace, she had passed as an ad- 
 venturess through Cuba, England, France, and 
 Germany, and, finally, returned to New York, a 
 helpless", wretched inebriate. 
 
 I could tell much more minutely her history, 
 but would here prefer to draw the vail, since her 
 end in the hospital has already been described. 
 
 But ever amce her Uiatory baa come to my 
 
16 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 knowledge, 1 haye never eeen any of these un- 
 fortunates, without sighing for the angel that was 
 sacrificed in the fall of many of them. 
 
 A NIGHT IN WATER STREET. 
 
 Dr. Eusha Habris, late Registrar of Vital 
 Statistics in this city, and now Secretary of the 
 Prison Association of New York, made a special 
 study of mysterious cases of supposed suicide 
 for years, and in a conversation with the writer 
 declared his behef that a large proportion of the 
 cases of mysterious deaths that go on the records 
 of the city as suicides were really skillfully 
 planned murders by gangs of men and women 
 who make murder and robbery a business. 
 
 AJong the streets bordering upon the river, 
 or in adjacent streets, such as Water and Cher- 
 ry, are located many places of infamy. 
 " Investigations made in a very large number of 
 cases where bodies have been found floating in 
 the water showed that the victims were last seen 
 alive in the company of female frequenters of 
 these dens of the metropolis or in tne dance- 
 houses. In most cases of this kind no valuables 
 of any account were found upon the remains and 
 rarely any external injuries were developed in 
 a post-mortem. 
 
 These facts led Dr. Harris to the conclusion 
 that many, if not all, had been inveigled into the 
 low resorts by women, where they were drugged 
 to death by some subtle poison administered in 
 liquors, and then, in the 
 silent hours of the night, 
 the inanimate body, after 
 being stripped of money 
 and valuables, would be 
 carried by the male mur- 
 derers to an adjacent dock 
 and quietly dumped into 
 the river. In due time the 
 remains would be carried 
 to the anrlace and found by 
 a boatman or the river po- 
 lice. The deadly drug had 
 left no tell-tale mark. The 
 police would investigate, 
 and that was the end of the 
 matter. 
 
 So impressed was I with 
 the conclusions arrived at 
 by Dr. Harris that I com- 
 municated with a personal 
 fnend on the detective 
 force my suspicions that a 
 certain house m Water 
 Street, which I had occa- 
 sion to pass as late as 2 
 A. M. daily, was a den 
 of tliieves of this class. He 
 readily consented to join 
 me in an effort to discover 
 something positive regard- 
 ing the place, which was a 
 resort of abandoned wo- 
 men, sailors and country- 
 men, with a bar attached. 
 One night at 11:IW, dressed 
 and disguised as Jersey 
 countrymen, Detective 'I*, 
 and r entered the main 
 room on the floor even with the street. In it 
 were four or Ave half-drunken women and half- 
 a-dozen sailors. In one comer was a small bar, 
 presided over by a villainous-looking, pock- 
 marked ex-convict, and in another corner was a 
 fiddler playing for the dancers. We spent 
 money freely in treating all hands, talked aoout 
 the price of country "truck," and the b;st mar- 
 ket in which to sell, and promised to go around 
 aext day after we had sold our produce and have 
 I good time all around, remarking that we 
 ranted the fiddler, so we could have a dance. 
 
 The convict boss of this den chuckled at the 
 p.«oi)oeition and readily assented to the further 
 pt'jposition that no "sailor fellers" should be 
 admitted while we were guests, as we weren't 
 used to " thar rough ways," and wanted to have 
 " a cli^ar swarth all to ourselves." 
 
 A liiHe betore noon on the following day, well 
 disguised, we entered the resort. But two wo- 
 men aud the proprietor were there, and an air of 
 quietuda — in striKing contrast to the boisterous 
 secret of the previous night— pervaded the place. 
 
 Eaoh of us had provided ourselves with a 
 sponge, hi'dden away inside of our coat-sleeves, 
 and, as w* had previously arranged to drink 
 nothing bu< small glasses of wine, it was an easy 
 matter by a dexterous movement to deposit the 
 contents after taking it from the glass, into the 
 sponges. Mr companion drank freely, or at 
 least appeared to drink, displaved considerable 
 
 aioaey, aud alter tbe fiddler bad been eeut for 
 
 and the doors were locked, indulged in several 
 waltzes. 
 
 An hour was thus passed, when, to all appear- 
 ances, the " Jersey farmers" were " pretty well 
 fuddled," 80 well had we simulated intoxicated 
 men. 
 
 As our object was to see more of the premises, 
 we offered no resistance when the women urged 
 us to retire to a rear room. There more drinks 
 were called for, and in half an hour we were 
 both apparently unconscious in a drugged and 
 drunken stupor. The women retire^ li'oin the 
 room, which was dimly lighted by the kerosene 
 lamp, and we were left side by" side on a mat- 
 trees in one corner for some time. There was a 
 pecular taste to the wine that satisfied us it con- 
 tained a drug. 
 
 In a little whUe " Big Charley," the boss, re- 
 turned with one of the women, who passed as his 
 wife, and, stooping over us, he remarked: "I'm 
 blowed, Hannah, if them fellers isn't good game. 
 Now you hold the door an' hold the light, an' the 
 fiddler an' me'll soon lay 'em away tUl night. 
 They're well salted, and we'll fix tliem at mid- 
 night, when all's still." 
 
 ■rho fiddler was called, and we, limp, and ap- 
 parently insensible, were carried down a rickety 
 stairway to a sub-cellar and qmetly deposited on 
 the floor, which was of stone. Our entertamers 
 retired, leaving the lamp burning dimly. 
 
 My detective friend got up and cautiously ex- 
 plored the place. 
 
 I confess I was not pleased with his report 
 
 ASTOR nonsF.. 
 
 On one side he found a blind door leading into 
 a dark passage-way, which, from the sound of 
 running water, he supposed to be one of the city 
 sewers, through which they carried their victims. 
 I was so alarmod that I suggested we had seen 
 enough, but he was inexoraole. 
 
 " Let us see the end," he said. " We are well 
 armed; we're enough for them. Why, if I only 
 showed ray shield they'd beat a retreat. Keep 
 quiet and watch me." 
 
 We did not wait long in suspense. " Charley " 
 and the woman entered. 
 
 The former examined us critically, and, turn- 
 ing to the woman, said: "You go up and t«nd 
 bar, if any one drops in; send Lize down to 
 watch the clodhoppers, and have her pour a lit- 
 tle more of the " stuff " down 'em in half an hour. 
 I must now go over the river and get Bob to 
 come over and help me plant 'em after we close 
 in the momin'." 
 
 Again we were alone. 
 
 The detective whispered his plans to me, and 
 a few minutes later the woman Lize came down 
 with a bottle in her band, and, sitting down on 
 the only chair in the cellar, engaged in the occu- 
 pation "of knitting. 
 
 Half an hour must have passed— to me it 
 seemed two hours — when the woman picked the 
 bottle up from a shelf and walked deliberately 
 over to our corner. With closed eves I felt her 
 warm hand on my forehead; then sJie turned my 
 head over, face upward, aod forcing open my 
 
 mouth when my companion, with a quick move- 
 ment, threw himself over and drawing a pistol, 
 hissed, "Ah, Lize! I've got youl Now open 
 your head, and I'll blow it ofi'! See this shield ? 
 Ha! ha! trapped at last, eh ? " 
 
 So sudden was the thing done that the woman 
 crouched down quietly, as the detective threw 
 off a wig, and she identified him as one who had 
 twice arrested her for shoplifting. 
 
 To be brief, the woman "Lize made a clean 
 breast" of the fact that sailors and oouutrymen 
 were drugged and taken to the sub-cellar, where 
 they were visited by " Big Charley," his wife and 
 two" men. " " i 
 
 What disposition was made ot the victims she 
 never knew, or professed to know not. The 
 officer promised her protection if she would aid 
 him in solving the mystery of the removal of the 
 drugged victims who might visit the place in 
 future, at the same time warning her that ho 
 would have her watched, and it would be useless 
 for her to attempt to Ueo the city. It was also 
 arranged that when the sub-cellar again had an 
 occupant she was to find means to hang a white 
 cloth from the front window as a signal, and at 
 all events to meet him at a place appointed a 
 week hence. She then released us tnrough a 
 side door. 
 
 Daily the house was watched — no signal. The 
 trysting time arrived, and Lize came not. Over 
 another week passed without other news of the 
 woman. It was supposed she had escaped the 
 detective's vigilance. Reading the description 
 of the body of a drowned 
 woman found at Fort Ham- 
 ilton, the detective beUeved 
 it was Lize. He went there 
 and recognized her as the 
 Water Street woman. 
 
 The detective always 
 maintained that he be- 
 lieved " Big Charley " and 
 his gang, suspecting Lize 
 of treachery, had murder- 
 ed her and thrown her body 
 into the river. 
 
 Shortly after this, my 
 fnend, who still had the 
 house under surveillance, . 
 became insane, and a few 
 months later died. 
 
 The Water Street deu 
 has been demolished to 
 make way for the Brooklyn 
 Bridge, and the inmates 
 
 t are scattered. Yet I still 
 
 ; g ; firmly beheve that Dr. Har- 
 
 - * , ris was right, and that 
 
 there still exists in this city, 
 under the verj- eyes of tho 
 police, one ormore organ- 
 ized gangs whose business 
 is the inveigling of 
 strangers into suspicious 
 places, tho robbing of their 
 persons and the consign- 
 ment of their bodies to Ihe 
 waters of the rivers and 
 harbor. 
 
 Where is the Vidocq who 
 
 will fathom the secrets of 
 
 these malefactors V — f'rnui 
 
 " Glimpses of Gofham," Published 'j-t/ Biclninl 
 
 K. Fox. 
 
 • ♦ ■ 
 
 TEE CHINESE AND ITALIANS. 
 
 Chinatown is often mentioned in the papers. 
 Any one who knows where Chatham Stjuare is, 
 could find Chinatown quite easily. There isn't 
 much of it, though, when it is found; just one 
 end of a shabby street, Mott by name. Some 
 of the houses are tenements, with dark halls, 
 rickety doors and windows and a perpetual bad 
 smell. Others were once private houses, with 
 high stoops and a moderalely good appearance, 
 but now almost as shabby" as the tenements. 
 Nearly everv house has a sign in Chinese char- 
 acters, and "all the dingy stores have strips of 
 vellow or red paper in the windows, inscribed 
 the same wav. Many of the door posts bear 
 similar embellishments, each and every one of 
 which is the most utterly incomprehensible 
 Greek to all white barbaria"n8. Go into China- 
 town any time you please, and you will find 
 Celestials on guard at almost every doorway. 
 Thev seem to be merely lounging abQut, and to 
 have no particular interest in anything, but 
 they are watchmg sharply all the time. The 
 gaiabling places, opium dens and lottery shops 
 are never without pickets, who eye all passers 
 very keenly and answer questions without any 
 waste of words. "No sabe," is the invariable 
 reply to barbarians straying around with conun- 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 17 
 
 drums. "As tight an a clam" and ".as dumb 
 aa an oyater" aro old phrasca for reticence, but 
 "as close as a Chinaman" would Qt (luito as 
 well. A Chinaman can tell a reporter by in- 
 stinct, and is closer than ever when a member 
 of that worthy brotherhood drifts around after 
 notes. He needs to be an especially energetic 
 reporter who penetrates the picket lines of a 
 Chinese gambling den or lottery shop. The 
 barbarian can gut into an opium"" joint" with- 
 out much trouble, but the other pliices are for 
 Celestials alone. No one else could understand 
 the games that are played, or what the queor 
 lottery combinations mean. It is said that both 
 the games and the lotteries are all square, but 
 only the Chinese themselves know whether they 
 are or not. They aro carried on in dark, foul 
 places, as far from the street as possible, and 
 only tlioee who know just how to proceed can 
 get in at all. The stores in Chinatown do not in- 
 vite the barbarian's trade. No goods aro kept 
 but those whicli Chinamen buy. Very few lux- 
 uries are found in any, but the Celestial is not a 
 luxurious animal. Opium doesn't cost much, 
 and the indulgence in it is the height of his ex- 
 travagance. 'The idea of luxury does not exact- 
 ly harmonize with the hard fact of existence on 
 tifteen cents a day. As to 
 
 THE irCMBER OF CHINESE 
 
 In Gotham, it is not easy to get at the actual fig- 
 ures. Those in Chinatown could probably be 
 counted, or a lair guess made, anyway; but they 
 don't all live in Chinatown, by any means. That 
 place is merely their headquarters. The num- 
 uer scattered through other 
 parts of the city, chiefly 
 with a view to laundrv pro- 
 flte, is larger, probaoly, 
 than could be counted in 
 Chinatown itself. All the 
 way from the Battery to 
 Harlem, the whole eight 
 and a half miles of Gotham's 
 length, these unassimilating 
 Mongolians are to be found. 
 A few years ago, when 
 there was an outcry about 
 a Chinese Invasion, it was 
 said the number in New 
 York was not less than 
 3,000. When the census 
 men of 1880 came around, 
 however, they figured up 
 less than 1,000. They prob- 
 ably got as near the mark 
 as the guessers, anyway. 
 But there has been a con- 
 siderable increase since 
 1880, and the present num- 
 ber might be put at 2,000 
 for New York City. Count- 
 ing in those in Brooklyn 
 and the Jersey suburbs, tne 
 total may not be far from 
 3,000. All are workers at 
 one thing or another; there 
 are no loafers among them, 
 and no doad-beats, so far as heard from. The 
 Chinaman's cardinal principle is to earn his liv- 
 ing, which shows a vast abj'sm of difference be- 
 xween him and some proud Caucasians. But 
 then, if he can live on fifteen cents a day, the 
 earning should not be very hard. There are 
 very few, however, who don't pick up at least 
 two dollars a day one way or another, and some 
 contrive to make from three to five dollars. 
 
 THE rCALIANS. 
 
 In point of health, at least, manvof the Italian 
 tenements are more dangerous than any of the 
 crowded and nauseating Chinese dens in Mott 
 Street. A single house in Mulberry Street is oc- 
 cupied by nearly 200 Italians, and there are 
 many others in other streets packed with these 
 people in the same way. The occupants are all 
 of the poorest and of the lowest class, and they 
 seem to have no thought at all of comfort or even 
 of common decency in their mode of living. Beds 
 are unknown luxuries in some of the Italian tene- 
 ments. An officer who entered one found the 
 floor covered so thickly with human beings that 
 he could not move about without stepping on a 
 sleeper. It was the same on each floor, even 
 down to the cellar. No particular complaint can 
 be made of this class of Italians on the score of 
 morality, except that most of them are always 
 too ready to stab; but their manner of hving, 
 like animals huddled in a pen, is abominable. 
 Sometimes three or four famihes occupy a single 
 room, and not only that, but occupy it in com- 
 pany with a midcellaneous collection of rags, old 
 n-»-ser, and dirty scraps of all kinds gathered in 
 
 &w Btrcete durisg (b« tiiy, w^ oftea reeking 
 
 with filth from the gutters. Yet there is good 
 physical material even among these people, as 
 any one may see by looking at thcin. Many of 
 the men are sturdy follows, well put together, 
 and many of the women have fine forms and 
 good faces. And it should be said, too, that 
 nearly all are industrious. They work at one 
 thing or another as steadily as any class, and 
 most of them know how to save money, even 
 out of their small earnings. If they could be 
 taught to live in a civilized way, not mnch fault 
 could be found with them for other things. 
 
 NIGHT BESSAES. 
 
 The following graphic pen-picture of that 
 wretched class ot our population known as 
 "Night Beggars" was written by Nathan D. 
 Urner, and appeared some years since in the 
 Kew York Weekhj: 
 
 Out from the shadow of the deep, dark area— 
 in the very noon of the starless, soundless night 
 — out from the black mouth of the tunnel-like 
 alleyway— right across one's path, as one is hur- 
 rying home, after long hours of exhausting labor 
 with the quill, she nits, ragged and ghostly in 
 the moonlight, or still more startling in the flick- 
 ering glare of the gas-lamp— the Night Beggar 
 of the streets. 
 
 There is nothing about her to identify her with 
 others of her class or aex. 
 
 The gaudy pretensions of the " street-walker " 
 do not show tnemselves in the poor, ragged gar- 
 ment which she draws so shiveringly round her 
 
 METBOPOLITAN HOTEL. 
 
 wasted form. Her lips are amileless; there is 
 no ghastly attempt at mirth, or rollicking good 
 nature in the large hollow eyes which speak of 
 hunger and destitution, as eyes alone can speak; 
 and the wan, thin hand, so tremblingly, beseech- 
 ingly extended, is that of pure beggary — without 
 the barest profession of giving anything in value 
 received for that which it wildly craves. 
 
 Out from the alleyway, out from the area — Plu- 
 tonian black and dismal — and out from the ahad- 
 ow of the street corner, have I had that wild, ap- 
 pealing hand thruat to me from the darkness. 
 Almoat a beggar myaelf at all times, I have not 
 always been able to gratify the clutching eameat- 
 neaaof that clammy palm, but my heart has 
 gone out to its owner strangely and yearningly, 
 and, thus excited, my imagination has kept me 
 awake manv a night, with speculations aa to the 
 causes which prompted, the circumstances which 
 led, and the state of society that superinduced 
 so many girls and women "to that condition of 
 wretchedneaa which makes them, under the 
 domination of this article, " Night Beggars." 
 
 The majority of our population — who are fa- 
 miliar enough with the various features of day 
 beggary, including men and women of all ages 
 and conditions — have little knowledge of these 
 children of darkness, who are, nevertheless, akin 
 to the general fraternity. 
 
 Yet our night beggars are a distinct class. 
 They are rarely to be seen before nine o'clock in 
 the evening, and they haunt the atreets till the 
 stars begin to pale along the sky. In a great 
 city like New Y'ork, the night hath its wanderers, 
 as well aa the day, and it is to the hearts of tlieae 
 that the profeeeibnal night beggar appeals. She 
 
 commences work at the entrance of tbaatres,. 
 nimatrol halls, and other places of amusement, 
 and then continues her vocation at any conveni- 
 ent shadow-hole bordering upon some great 
 thoroughfare. 
 
 In the course of my journalistic experience I 
 havo made the acquaintance of several girls who 
 may come under the general classification of this 
 article, and the history of one or two of them ia 
 fraught with a homely romance. 
 
 The one I remenibor moat intimately used to 
 accoat mc almost nightly near the comer of Lis- 
 ponard Street and Broadway. I was always lalc- 
 on the street — from midnight {p three in tho 
 morning— and I shall never forget the sensaliou 
 her first appearance caused mo, aa she glided 
 out ao noiseless and ghost-like from the shadow 
 of the wall, and besought my charity with out- 
 stretched palm. 
 
 The face was a pale one — dead pale. The eves 
 were deep, black, shining holes in the face. Thc- 
 hair — jet nlack— was very luxuriant, though that 
 of a girl, for tho owner could scarcely have been 
 over eighteen. My route was so regular, her 
 station so constant, that a sort of intimacy grew 
 up between us, and one evening I loitered some 
 momenta, and queationed her: 
 '•^Q^t is your name ? " 
 " Cjnevieve Marston." 
 
 It was a beautiful name, and I, not doubting 
 that it was fictitious, paused, thinking that she 
 too had caught the maudlin sentimentalisni 
 which lends tne lie to the lips of the outcast, 
 when she, perceiving my mood, said quickly: 
 "It is my real name, sir. I have bed very 
 often. Heaven knows, but "I 
 would not to one who has 
 been kind and generous to 
 me, as yon have." 
 ~--. From'that time on through 
 
 ^ -. a long winter, in my lonely 
 
 walk homeward, I alway's 
 tried to have ten cents "in 
 my pocket for the benefit of 
 Genevieve, of the comer of 
 Lispenard StreetandBroad- 
 way. Sometimes I would 
 have nothing, and, as she 
 would flit out before me 
 from tho bosom of her cor- 
 ner-shadow, I would 3aT: 
 
 " Flat broke, Genevieve, 
 and hungry myself." 
 
 Once, as I said this, the 
 snow was deep upon the 
 ground, and the north wind 
 whistled bitterly. She 
 looked poorer and more 
 miserable than I had ever 
 seen her. But she sprang 
 after me quickly and ex- 
 claimed: 
 
 " You hungry, too! Take 
 some of mine, won't you? 
 I have eaten all I can.'"' 
 
 She thrust a crust of bread 
 at me — gnawed at the edges 
 aa if by hungry, ay, raven- 
 ous teeth, while in her own dark, hollow eyes, 
 in every furrow which wretchedness and desti- 
 tution had plowed in her young face, I read the 
 great famine that was clutching at her heart. At 
 first I was humiliated by the offer, but there was 
 something so thoroughly noble in the charity ex- 
 tended to me that I sp'eedily lost all other feel- 
 ings in contemplating it. 
 
 She was not a bad-looking girl. Youth and 
 beauty still gleamed at intervals through the 
 mask of misery and long, unfruitful years; but 
 it was her white, shining soul that I could see, 
 as I then and there took her two bands in mine 
 and gazed down into those poor eyes — ao beauti- 
 fully dark, so unnaturally bright — where the 
 aweetness, the genius of woman, dwelt, still per- 
 fect, still ahining after the terrible ordeal of her 
 destiny. 
 
 "Why do you beg, Gtenevieve ?— and why do- 
 you be^ at night ? " 
 
 I said it to her ao earnestly aa not to leave any 
 room for the studiedly piteous falsehood which 
 might otherwise have arisen to her lips. 
 
 " I beg," she replied. " for the man I love, 
 who is at the point of death. Look at me — look 
 at these rags that cover me, and say how I should 
 venture to appear in Heaven's sunlight. This is- 
 why I beg at nitjht." • 
 
 She wrung my hand, dove into her shadows oi 
 the corner angles, and vanished from mv sight. 
 
 For a number of nights thereafter I missed 
 Genevieve. But one wild night, with snow in 
 the air and under foot, and a shrill gale piping 
 from the sea, I met her iust as I was wheeling 
 from Broadway into Canal Street. 
 She was singularly forlorn. Even the wor» 
 
1'8 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 "plaid ehawl she had been accustomed to wear 
 over her hea,d and shoulders, in the cold term, 
 •was absent. Her long hair was loose, and blow- 
 ing out in the wind. Her general demeanor was 
 ■that of desperation and bewilderment. 
 
 She importuned two or three night-farers who 
 ■were before me without success, and then fell 
 upon me. 
 
 " Just a little — ever so little! " she exclaimed, 
 wildly. 
 
 And then recognizing me, ehe burst out with 
 a passionate feeling that would not admit of 
 tears: 
 
 " Oh, sir, he is dead — dead— dead! " 
 
 It was Saturday night. 1 did not have tlie 
 consciousness of a nest morning's resumption of 
 routine work starmg me in the face — was, in fact, 
 at comparative liberty. Even if it had been 
 otherwise, there was no resisting the appealing 
 agony of the poor woman, as she slipped down 
 on her knees m the snow, and gave utterance to 
 that heartrending exclamation: 
 
 " He is dead — dead — dead! " 
 
 I did not say a word. I lifted her gently, and 
 by my manner indicated that I would follow her 
 to her abode. We went to a dingy, dirty tene- 
 ment in the neighborhood, and, stunying 
 through a lightless hallway, proceeded up flight 
 after flight of rickety staircase, until we reached 
 the topmost floor. Here we entered a room, 
 dimly lighted by a tallow dip. 
 
 It was a strange room as well as poor. There 
 "was a stove, with the embers of a fire in it, and 
 aurroanded by a few pans, pots, skillets, and 
 other utensils of cookery, though not the slight- 
 est sign of anything to "cook. In a cor- 
 ner of the wretched room, just below 
 the single dormer window, was a table 
 littered with torn and half-written 
 manuscripts, and on the floor, at its 
 ■aide, were a number of books— a die- -"' 
 tionary, a thesauris and a dozen blue- # 
 and-gold editions of the modern poets. S 
 There was no carpet on the floor, and 
 the spiders had woven their festoons 
 upon the ceiling. 
 
 In the dark corner of the gaiTCt was 
 an iron bedstead, miserably furnished, 
 considering the severity of the season. 
 Upon this lay the corpse of a man, of 
 thirty years or more. The face was 
 handsome and noble in the extreme, 
 but emaciated, as by long sufl'eriug and 
 ■want. But the close-curling dark hair 
 clustered around the transparent tem- 
 ples, and over the clear, still brow, in 
 a way that reminded one of a flue portrait 
 of the past. 
 
 But the passionate exclamation of the 
 " Night Beggar " was none the less 
 true. He was dead — dead — dead! 
 
 She bent over the poor clay, and 
 kissed it wildly, impassionedly — 
 cheeks, lips and eyelids. Then she 
 turned to nie, and said: 
 
 "Do you know what that is Iving 
 there? It isn't a dead man— it's a dead 
 poet! He was a poet in every sense 
 of the word. His voice was sweet — oh, 
 how sweet! Everv action of his life 
 was m harmony with the poesy of the man 
 also made money enough for us to live on- 
 while. It was five dollars now, ten dollars here, 
 and, now and then, twenty dollars there, and we 
 lived comfortably, for he was good and kmd to 
 me at all times. But he drank, and, at last, was 
 cast upon this bed, from which he has never 
 arisen. It was paralysis. At first, he would 
 crawl out every day, and write a poem, or a 
 sketch, by the sale of which I could manage to 
 get fuel lor our fire, as the saying goes; but at 
 last he evtti lost this power. His Iriends desert«d 
 > him, and^ became a beggar for him. I was a 
 day beggar — a genteel beggar at first; but the 
 steps of degradation are inexorable, and at the 
 last I became a ' Night-Beggar ' for his sake — for 
 his Rake! Oh, Heaven! the game is up! He is 
 dead — dead — dead! " 
 
 It would have been an insult to her grief to 
 question its sincerity. It was so earnest as to re- 
 buke inquiry. 
 
 " OhI moaned the poor girl, throwing herself 
 on the dead body, and kissing the dead nice with 
 a wild, passionate sorrow; " they have done 
 their worst bj you. Jack, Jack! My poor, dead 
 darling! They may sneeringly call you 'Bo- 
 hemian ' and ' pennv-a-liner ' now! They cannot 
 barm yon more! l!>ead — dead— dead! "Do you 
 know what killed him ?" she suddenly exclaimed, 
 apringiug to her feet in a sort of fury. "They 
 may hold an inquest, and say he died of this, or 
 that, or that; but I say he has starved to death! 
 His poems may gem the albums of the rich and 
 great, bet he ■was starved to death! They may 
 
 repeat his jokes, and talk of his sparkling wit in 
 their parlors and clubs, but he was starved to 
 death! I stand here before Heaven — here on the 
 brink of the hell-on-earth, which must be my 
 doom — and swear it eternally: He was Stabved 
 TO Death! " 
 
 She rolled over in a fit, with the red foam on 
 her lips. I resuscitated her as speedily as I 
 could, gave her all the money I had, and after 
 promising to call on the following day, hurried 
 away. 
 
 But on the following morning, a note from the 
 managing editor of the newspaper on which 1 
 was employed, ordered me to the Capital at 
 once — barely giving me time to pack my valise. 
 
 When 1 returned, a week later, the poet's gar- 
 ret was deserted, and Genevieve had disap- 
 peared. I have never seen her since, but often 
 m my dreams, I see that white, imploring hand 
 stretched out to me through the horror and the 
 mystery of these Shadow-Scenes; and that wild 
 cry, " Starved to death! Dead — dead — dead! " is 
 still ringing in my ears. 
 
 THE DESEBVIKS FOOE AND THE IMFOS- 
 TOES. 
 
 " Chabitt covers a multitude of sins, does it 
 not ? " said a reporter to the superintendent of 
 the Charity Organization Society, as a tramp en- 
 tered the room with a letter purporting to oe a 
 recommendation from a prominent citizen. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," answered the gentleman, ey- 
 ing the tramp sharply, and so ao the bats "of 
 
 . He 
 
 -for a 
 
 THE STAATS-ZErrrNO BUILDINO. 
 
 many of our applicants for aid. Call around 
 some time and sit here for an hour and you will 
 see more needy people of all grades of poverty 
 than could be uescriued in a volume." 
 
 THE OBJECT OF THE SOCIETT. 
 
 " What is the object of the society ? " 
 " The society does not give alms save in ex- 
 ceptional cases. Its chief object is the equal dis- 
 trioution of the money now given to the poor by 
 the wealthy people of our city. According to the 
 present way of aispensing alms some of the pro- 
 fessional mendicants who make a business of 
 begging get all the charity, wlule the more sen- 
 sitive are left to perish in their pride. We pro- 
 pose to investigate all applications for aid and re- 
 port upon the merit of the applicant, thus the 
 money donated goes to the place where it does 
 the greatest good to the greatest number. Only 
 recently a lady called here and asked us to in- 
 vestigate the case oi a man whose alleged sick 
 wife and family she had supplied with money for 
 more than six months. When we investigated 
 the case we found that the fellow had no family 
 at all and made a good, lazy living by imposing 
 upon the credulity of several wealthy persons. 
 The indiscriminate distribution of alms spoils 
 the needy, and after a time they become so used 
 to it that they find it the easiest way to live with- 
 out work. By our method this is impossible; we 
 investigate the case, grive temporary relief, then 
 provide work for the able-bodied and homes and 
 nospitals for the sick and aged and those unable 
 to work." 
 
 "Who are the greatest impostors you have to 
 deal with ? " 
 
 " The tramps rank first, and I can say that 80 
 per cent, of these are unworthy of aid. They 
 usually come, hke the one you saw with a frayeS 
 letter or hospital discharge, and ask for work — 
 they want no aid. ' Give us work,' is the crv. 
 When I make out a slip with the address of some 
 one who will give employment to a needy man, 
 they take it eagerly, and as they start to go they 
 turn round and use such means as these: ' I'm 
 so hungry that I'm afraid I can't walk to the 
 place; won't you give me car-fare ? ' or, ' My leg 
 isn't healed yet, but the doctor says I'll be all 
 right in a day or so; can't you give'me the price 
 of a bed and a meal, so that I'll have new 
 strength ? ' Next, and the most shame-faced 
 impostor, is the ' temporarily distressed lady of 
 good family, whose child just died, and who'has 
 a horror of the Potter's Field.' Why, only a few 
 weeks ago a lady came to me weeping profusely 
 (they always do), and asked for assistance to 
 bury her child; $5 was all she wanted, ' a friend 
 would subscribe the rest.' On looking for the 
 house she said she lived in, an empty lot was 
 found." 
 
 DESEBviNa or cHABrrr. 
 
 " What do you do for the real worthy ? " 
 " When we find a real worthy indmdual wc 
 send to the various aid societies, and they give 
 temporary relief, and provide employment ae 
 soon as possible. If they are sick, besides being 
 destitute, we give medical advice, and often 
 remedies. Should the case require care more 
 than medicine, then we provide good hos- 
 pital accommodation for them.' 
 
 " In what district is poverty the great- 
 est?" 
 
 "The lower wards generally, although 
 
 a good deal is scattered all over the 
 
 city. It is a mistaken idea that the des- 
 
 J, titution is as great as pictured generally; 
 
 zi most of it IS due to chronic alms-aaking, 
 
 L- and no desu-e for work." 
 
 THE C.^CSE or WANT. 
 
 " What is the great cause of want ? " 
 
 "Low gin-mills, where the parents 
 apend the money, if iudiciously expend- 
 ed, would comfortably provide for their 
 families." 
 
 " Is it true that many real worthy peo- 
 ple are never reached by you ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say that this is so, and 
 oflen we find needy people from neigh- 
 bors who have long seen the faces 
 pinched with want, and they come here 
 and report to us. On several occasions 
 I have visited such as these, offered aid 
 and met with a refusal to accept it on the 
 CTound that there was no necessity for it. 
 Such people as these ought to get more 
 than a share of what is yearly g^ven in 
 charity." 
 
 CAUSES OF NEED. 
 
 " What are the unavoidable causes of 
 need?" 
 "Sickness, lack of employment, and 
 often robbery." 
 " What do yon mean bv robbery? " 
 "Such cases as the following: Not long ago a 
 lady with her child was traveling from the West 
 to hoston. Between Elizabeth and New York 
 she was robbed of her purse and ticket, and 
 reached here perfectly destitute. She applied to 
 us, and we gave her comfortable lodgings for the 
 night, and on the morrow she was provided with 
 a ticket to Boston and a little money for expenses 
 on the trip. She promised to return it, and, true 
 to her word, she sent it back a few days after." 
 " How are you progressing in your work ? " 
 " Very well; and before many years we will 
 have the system so perfect that starvation and 
 abject poverty cannot be found in New York. We 
 are fast adding new districts in the six already 
 established and soon the whole city will be cov- 
 ered by branch oflSces directed from the head- 
 quarters." 
 
 LITE AMON& THE LOWLY. 
 
 The following entertaining chapter is from 
 Matthew Hale Smith's " Sunshine and Shadow 
 in New York," published by the J. B. Burr Pub- 
 lishing Co., Hartford, Conn.: 
 
 The extreme value of land in the city makes 
 tenement-bouses a necessity. Usually they oc- 
 cupy a lot twenty-five by one hundred feet, six 
 stories high, with apartments for fonrfamiles on 
 each floor. These houses resemble barracks 
 more than d^elliogQ for families. One Btanding 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 1» 
 
 on a lot fifty by two liundred and fifty feet haB 
 apartmentH for one hundred and t\yeuty-8ix fami- 
 lies. Nearly all the apartments are bo situated 
 that the sun can never touch the windows. In a 
 cloudy day it is impossible lo have sunlight 
 enough to "read or see. A narrow room and bod- 
 room comprise an apartment. Families keep 
 boarders m these narrow quartern. Two or throe 
 lanulies live in one apartment frequently. Not 
 one of the one hundred and twenty-six rooms 
 can be properly ventilated. The vaults and 
 water-closeta are disgusting and shameful. Thoy 
 are accessible not only to the five or six hundred 
 occupants of the building, but to all who chose 
 to go in from the street. The water-closets are 
 without doors, and privacy is impossible. Into 
 these vaults every imaginable abomination is 
 poured. The doors from the cellar open in the 
 vault, and the whole house is impregnated with 
 a stench that would poison cattle. 
 
 A MIOBT TBAMP. 
 
 With a lantern and an officer, a visit to the 
 cellars where the poor of New York sleep may 
 be undertaken with safety. Fetid odors and 
 pestiferous smells greet you as you descend. 
 There bunks are built on the side of the room; 
 beds filthier than can be imagined, and crowded 
 with occupants. No regard is paid to age or sex. 
 Men, women, and children are huddled to- 
 gether in one disgusting mass. Without a 
 breath of air from without, these holes are 
 hot-beds of pestilence. The landlord was 
 asked, in one cellar: 
 
 " How many can you lodge ? " 
 
 "We can lodge twenty-five; if we crowd, 
 perhaps thirty." 
 
 The lodgers in these filthy dens seem to 
 be lost to all moral feeling, and to all sense 
 of shame. They are not as decent as the 
 brutes. Drunken men, debased women, 
 young girls, helpless children, are packed 
 together in a filthy, under-ground room, 
 dentitute of light or ventilation, reeking 
 with filth, and surrounded with a poisoned 
 atmosphere. The decencies of life are 
 abandoned, and blasphemy and ribald talk 
 fill the place. 
 
 BJiREFOOTED BEOOAR. 
 
 On one of the coldest days of winter two 
 girls were seen on Broadway soliciting 
 alms. The larger of the two awakened 
 evmpathv by her destitute appearunce. An 
 old hood covered her head, a miserable 
 shawl her shoulders. Her shivering form 
 was enveloped in a nearly worn-out dress, 
 which was very short, exposing the lower 
 part of her limbs and feet. She had on 
 neither shoes nor stockings. Nearly every 
 person that passed the girl gave her some- 
 thing. Believing they were impostors, Mr. 
 Halliday approached them, and demanded 
 where they lived. On being told, he pro- 
 posed to attend them home. They misled 
 him as to their residence. They attempted 
 to elude him, and at length the younger 
 said: 
 
 " Mister, there is no use going any far- 
 ther this way; she don't live on Fifty-third 
 Street, she lives on Twelfth Street, and she 
 has got shoes and stockings under her 
 shawl." 
 
 She was taken before a magistrate, and 
 committed to the Juvenile Asylum. 
 
 A STREET BOY. 
 
 It is estimated that there are over ten thou- 
 sand street boys in New York. They swarm along 
 our parks, markets, and landings, stealing sugar, 
 molasses, cotton. They steal anything they can 
 lay their hands on. They prowl through the 
 streets, ready for mischief. Mr. Halliday gives 
 an interesting account of one of this class. He 
 was the son of a widow. He played truant, and 
 became .a rognilar young vagabond. He was one 
 of the ^oung Arabs of the city. Mr. Halliday 
 resolved to save him. He introduced him into 
 the Home o' the Friendless. He ran away and 
 resumed his A tab life. He was sought for, and 
 found on one of the wharves. The following 
 dialogue took place: 
 
 " Where have you been, Willie ? " 
 
 " Nowhere, sir." 
 
 " What have you been doing since you ran 
 ftway from the Home ? " 
 
 "Nothing, sir." 
 
 " What have you had to eat ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir." 
 
 " What! have you eaten nothing these two 
 days?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " What was that that fell out of your hand just 
 now when you etruck ftgaiast your brother? " 
 
 " A soda-water bottle." 
 
 " Where did yon get it? " 
 
 " I stole It." 
 
 " What were you going to do witli it ? " 
 
 "Sell it." 
 
 " What were you going to do with the money?" 
 
 " Buy something to eat." 
 
 " Are you hungry? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Whore have you staid since you left the 
 Home ? " 
 
 " On Tenth Street." 
 
 " Whoso house did you stay in? " 
 
 " Nobody's." 
 
 " No one's house ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 It had rained very hard the uight previous, 
 and I asked him again: 
 
 " Where did you stay last night? " 
 
 " Corner of Avenue A and Tenth Street." 
 
 " Whose house did you stay in? " 
 
 " No one's." 
 
 "But you told me just now you stopped last 
 night corner of Avenue A and Tenth Street." 
 
 "So I did." 
 
 " And you slept in uo one's house ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Where did you sleep, then ? " 
 
 " In a sugar box." 
 
 the care of the matron. When the trial came od, 
 it was decided Aliat the little girl was too young; 
 to testify. Thff man pleaded guilty of man- 
 slaughter, and was sent to the State Prison. It 
 was a happy day for little Katy when she sat on 
 the bench with those miserable women heanug, 
 a 8orm(m preached. .She found a kind friend iu 
 Mr. Halliday, and through him obtained a happy 
 WoHttTii lioine. 
 
 OKSTEEI. SUFFKUIXO. 
 
 Sudden reverses reduce well-to-do people to- 
 poverty. Sickuess conies into a household like 
 an armed man. Death strikes down a father, 
 and leaves a family penniless. One day a lady 
 of vf-ry genteel appearance called at tho Slissiou. 
 Bursting into tears, she said to the superin- 
 tendent: 
 
 " Sir, I have come to ask tor assistanoe. It u» 
 the first time iu my life. I would not now, but I 
 have been driven to it. I could bear hunger and 
 cold myself, but I could not hear my children 
 cry for bread. For twenty-four hours 1 have not 
 had a mouthful for myself or them. While there 
 was work, I could get along tolerably well. I 
 have had none tor some time; now I must beg, 
 or my children starve." 
 Her husband had been a mechanic. He had 
 j come to New York from the country. The family 
 lived in comfort till sickness stopped their 
 resources, and death struck the father 
 down. The mother attempted to keep hir 
 little family together, and support them by 
 her own labor. Five years sne had toiled, 
 planned, and suffered. Her earnings were 
 small, and from time to time she sold arti- 
 cles of furniture to give her children bread. 
 Over-exertiun, long walks in rain and cold 
 to obtain work, insufficient clothing, want 
 of nutritious food, with anxiety lor her 
 children, prostrated her. She was obliged 
 to call for aid on some of our benevolent 
 institutions. She is a specimen of hun- 
 dreds of noble suffering women ia New 
 York. 
 
 IMPROVED TENEMENT HOTJSES. 
 
 Public attention has lately been called to 
 the filthy and overcrowded pest-houses in 
 the lower part of the city, and the result 
 has been a great improvement in many of 
 the old tenements, and the erection of sev- 
 eral model lodging houses, which afford 
 clean and comfortable quarters for laborers 
 and mechanics, at comparatively reason- 
 able rates of rent. 
 
 THE DAEK SIDE OF NEW YOEZ LIFE. 
 
 OOBNZR OF BROADWAY AND WALL STREET. 
 
 I "In a sugar box .'" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Did you not get wet with the rain? " 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " How did you get your clothes dry ? " 
 "Stood up in the sun until they were dry." 
 He was again placed in the Home of the 
 Friendless; again ran away; and finally was put 
 into the Refuge, as all kindness seemed to be 
 lost upon him. 
 
 A SAD SCENE. 
 
 In the so-called chapel of the prison sits a lit- 
 tle girl amid a throng of dirty, drunken women. 
 She is small, and only seven years of age. Her 
 story is told in a single line — her father is in the 
 Tombs, her mother is at the station-house. 
 What she calls her home is a single room, nine 
 feet under ground, without tire, though the 
 thermometer is at zero. A portion of an old 
 bedstead, a broken tick part full of straw, with a 
 pUlow, on which are marks of blood, lies upon 
 the floor. The father was a cartman. He came 
 home one night drunk and brutal, and knocked 
 his wife down with a heavy stick. Afterwards 
 he stamped upon her with his heavy boots until 
 she was unable to speak. The woman died and 
 the man w.'s arrested. The little girl was sent 
 to the Tombs as a witness, and was placed under 
 
 People living or doing business in the 
 neighborhood oT the post office have noticed 
 an elderly man, apparently warmly clad 
 and of a refined appearance, lounging about 
 the corners. He seemed to be watching for 
 somebody, and frequently entered tho 
 Herald office and eyed the clerk who han- 
 dles the letters. So queerly did he act 
 that the attention of the police was called 
 to him, for it was feared ho was a " crunk " 
 who might do some one a mischief. An 
 investigation led to the discovery of some 
 remarkable facts. The old gentleman is 
 versed in several languages, was formerly 
 well off, and has been largely engaged^ in 
 profitable business. Meeting reverses, he came 
 to New York in search of employment, armed 
 with letters of recommendation from profensors 
 in colleges and other distinguished people, ad- 
 dressed to leading publishing firms; yet h» 
 failed, and has for a formight lived in the street, 
 and was actually starving when the police took 
 him in hand. I saw him in the station-hous© 
 last night. 
 
 "They tell me you are destitute and in want 
 of food. Would nobody give you anything to 
 eat ? " 
 
 "Well, I never asked. I went into the Astor 
 House the other day and saw three or tour hun- 
 dred gentlemen eating and drinking. They 
 were ordering beefsteaks, and roast beef, and 
 chicken, and oysters, and baked potatoes, and 
 sandwiches, and pies, and brandy, whiskey, and 
 ale. Some of them were having partridge and 
 champagne, and nearly all were getting cigars 
 when they paid their "bills. I hadn't touched 
 any food for nearly two days, and it made me 
 nearly crazy with Lunger to see so much to eat 
 and not a penny in my pocket." 
 
 " But why did you not ask for help ? " 
 " I did, biit the one I spoke to swore at me for 
 a tramp, and I lost all heart." 
 
 Of course, the old gentleman will be properly 
 cared for; but just imagine the scene i!\ litiX 
 
^o 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 gorgeons lunch room, -where the ceiling looks 
 like a dome of molten gold, beautifully pamted 
 ■with a tracery of vines and foliage, bearing the 
 frnite of the world! Think of the feelings of 
 this poor, old man, as he stood there among the 
 feaeters, actually starving in the midst of 
 plenty and wasteful extravagance. Did Tanta- 
 lus ever suffer such pangs as did this homeless, 
 hungry creature ? A penny from the pockets 
 of each man iu that crowd would have kept this 
 J man supphed with food for three days; yet his 
 iJips are closed by the brutality of perhaps the 
 only brut« in the gathering. Need I add any- 
 thing to the picture ? Is it not sombre enough 
 in black and white ? Could the pencil of a Dove 
 Add anything to its horror aud despair? Yet 
 this scene is probably occurring almost every 
 day in tins great city, where millionaires are 
 ■counted by the hundred, and more money is 
 wasted in extravagance than is spent in charity. 
 
 A mother's despair. 
 
 A few years ago I was standing on a street 
 corner one bitter, cold night, waiting for a car. 
 A yonng woman came up and peered into my 
 face. Something told her I was in an amiable 
 mood, 80 she asked me for half a dollar. The 
 demand was so unusual I turned sharply around 
 and looked at the applicant. 
 
 " Half a dollar! Tnatis a queer way to beg,'' 
 was my response. 
 
 "Oh, sir, I'm not begging, bnt my little chil- 
 dren are starving." 
 
 I had children of my own living then, and the 
 thought that this woman's little ones were suffer- 
 ing for food gave me a pang; 
 but knowing the wiles of New 
 York, I determined to miss 
 my car and investigate. 
 
 " I will go and see your / » 
 
 children," said I. 
 
 " Thank you, sir. It is 
 only a little way." 
 
 Following my guide for a 
 block or two, she led me to a 
 miserable tenement building, 
 and in the basement I found 
 her three children. There 
 was no stove, no furniture, 
 not a table or a chair in the 
 room, and no light. Striking 
 a match, I saw the children 
 huddled together on an old 
 niattrese, shivering and blue 
 with cold. Two dollars pro- 
 duced some coal and wood to 
 fill the empty grate and put 
 some plain, wholesome food 
 before the mother and her 
 children. I afterwards learn- 
 ed that the woman had lost 
 her husband a few mouths 
 before, and having been 
 brought up in ignorance of 
 how to earn her living, she 
 had gone from bad to worse, 
 until she reached that state 
 that she had gone into the 
 streeta to sell herself, bodv 
 and sonl, for the money neetled to »ave her chil- 
 dren. 1 brought the case to the attention of a 
 ■society, and she was saved. 
 
 as well make up his mind not to worry about 
 getting out. For there's no telling as to that. 
 
 Suppose, for instance, that two ruffians with 
 political influence get into a tight, and one 
 shoots or stabs the other. The shooter, or stab- 
 ber falls into the hands of a policeman. An " in- 
 nocent spectator " (that ass of an innocent spec- 
 tator is always around) goes along to tell what he 
 saw. The ruffian is temporarily locked up, and 
 the innocent spectator is sent to "the House of De- 
 tention, to appear against him when wanted. 
 Next day the political friends of the ruffian get 
 him out on bail, and in one way or another his 
 trial is put off and off, and in some cases dropped 
 altogether. Bnt the innocent spectator remains 
 in jail. No bail for him. The law does not al- 
 low that. It is the criminal to whom the law is 
 lenient. The witness of his crime is the one who 
 suffers. 
 
 The plan of detaining witnesses in this way 
 has been in operation some twenty veare. It 
 has been an outrage Irom the first and it is now 
 admitted to be a failure. A bill for its aboliti(>n 
 18 before the Legislature. One incident affords 
 a fair illustration ot how it works: A countryman 
 fell into the hands of some bunko men who took 
 him to a room and locked the door. He was 
 scared, and going to a window veiled tor help. 
 The bunko men then opened the door and let him 
 out. They did not want to get into a scrape. At 
 the door he met a policeman who had been at- 
 tracted by his cries, and to whom he told his story. 
 
 " Do you want them arrested ? " asked the po- 
 liceman. And then: " If I arrest them vou will 
 be locked up as a witness till their trial.'' 
 
 up or not; its duty merely was to see that they 
 were kept iu safe custody. The matter was finally 
 settled by a compromise, whereby the imprisoned 
 witnesses have at least some chance of escape in 
 case of fire, and need not necessarily figure in a 
 holocaust. 
 
 THE MORGUE. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF DETENTION. 
 
 The New Yorker who would keep out of jail 
 must be careful not to witness a crime. If he 
 does witness one, the chances are that he will be 
 indefinitely locked up, while the other fellow, ' 
 who commits the crime, goes out on bail and has , 
 a good time. Some of these glorious republican ' 
 institutions of ours have a few queer kinks in 'em. 
 
 Mulberry Street is not a bit like Broadway, ex- 
 cept that it is paved with stones, which are" very 
 dirty all the year round. It is onlv a few blocks 
 from Broadway, however, and it follows the same 
 north and south line. Most of its houses are 
 tenements, with an extravagant proportion of 
 bar-rooms in their lower parts. A good many 
 Italians live m Mulberry Street (which never saw 
 a mulberry in its life), and a large number of 
 Irish, and a few Germans, and some of the col- 
 ored element, and just a sprinkling of Chinese, 
 and in one part, down near Chatham Street, an- 
 other sprinkling of Jews. So you see its popula- 
 tion is somewhat mixed. But Mulberry Street 
 has a few buildings that are not tenements. One 
 is the printing house of the Methodist Book Con- 
 cern, another is the general puhce headquarters, 
 and the third, locally known as the Cage, bears 
 the name of the House of Detention for Wit- 
 nesses. It is bolted and barred from top to bot- 
 tom, aod the unlucky wight who once gets m may 
 
 HOUSE OF BEFCaE, KAMDAI^L's ISIAND. 
 
 That was quite enough. The countryman did 
 not want to be locked up, so the bunko men were 
 not arrested. Instead of diminishing crime by 
 making sure of the attendance of witnesses, the 
 law has had a contrary effect by making it difli- 
 cult to get witnesses at all. Much has been said 
 and written about the hardships of Ludlow 
 Street Jail. Much hardshin is suffered in the 
 House of Detention also, ana always by persons 
 innocent of crime — merely witnesses against the 
 guilty. A woman lx)ught tU3 worth of furniture 
 on the installment plan. Wlieu she had paid up 
 $G5 she got into the U<m8e of Detention as a wit- 
 ness against a young ruffian arrested for highway 
 robbery. Shewas kept there three weeks. This 
 cut off her meaus to keep up payments on the 
 furniture. While she was locked up the furni- 
 ture man went to her home and removed all that 
 he had sold her, leaving her minus the furniture 
 and her $65 too. This is only one case of a hun- 
 dred that might be mentioned. 
 
 A short time ago there was a curious conflict 
 of authority about the House of Detention. It is 
 a high building, with all the windows barred. Iu 
 case of fire it would be a rather uucouifortablo 
 place. The Fire Department ordered fire- 
 escapes put up and the iron bars in the windows 
 removed. The Police Department refused, on 
 the ground that fire-escapes would enable the 
 detained witnesses to get away. The Fire De- 
 partment replied that those persons must not b(! 
 exposed to the danger of being burned up, and 
 repeated the order for fire-esoapes. The other de- 
 partment again refused, hinting that it was none 
 of its business whether the witnesses were burned 
 
 A NABBOW room, walled in by white, and with 
 plenty of opportunities for the blessed daylight 
 to stream into a place so utterly unblest. 
 Any one can find it. 
 
 The margin of East River, on Twenty-sixth 
 Street. 
 
 It would be a cool, pleasant white room at any 
 season of the year, were it not for the fact that 
 two or three corpses almost continually grace the 
 marble tables which are placed behmd the glass 
 cases, and which permeate the atmosphere with 
 a dank, mysterious horror, peculiar to the place. 
 Yet this" very horror is an attraction to hun- 
 dreds of our Metropolitan visitors, who seek the 
 morgue, and gaze upon its ghastly displays with 
 mingled curiosity and disgust- 
 In some cases, this curiosity must be a good 
 deal like that of the gay French woman of the 
 Parisian Demi-Monde. 
 
 After a wild night of revel, she bade farewell 
 to her companion, saying that she must go upon 
 her usual " morning call." 
 " What is your usual morning call ? " 
 " At the morgue— I go there every morning." 
 " Mo)t dieu! what can lead you there after a 
 night of pleasure ? " 
 
 " Merely to see whether my 
 own corpse is not there," wa"s 
 the reply. " I know 1 shall 
 '^ come to it some day, and am 
 
 ^g sometimes uncertain as to 
 
 ^^ whether I am not there al- 
 
 ready." 
 '"^^1^ Our women are not quite so 
 
 irrepressible as the French, 
 but perhaps the comparison 
 is made a little too intimate, 
 bnt in some cases, at least, I 
 know I cannot have erred. 
 
 In my many visits to the 
 morgue, as a 'newspaper re- 
 porter, I have witnessed 
 many strange and most un- 
 usual scenes, the narration of 
 which would sound almost 
 like the tongue ol fiction. 
 
 One of ray early visits was 
 made just as the shadows of 
 twilight were enfolding the 
 city, though it was quite light 
 enough to see everything dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 I had crossed in a rowboat 
 from the Long Island shore, 
 and, weak ana heartsick from 
 an unsuccessful mission in 
 the search of " exclusive 
 news," felt inchned to pro- 
 ceed officeward, and report 
 my failure, as fast as possible; but, passing along 
 Twenty-sixth Street, the instinct to enter the 
 morgue was too strong to be resisted, and I 
 went in. 
 Death had not been so rife as usual. 
 A single corpse was laid out, occupying the 
 table nearest the door. 
 
 It was that of a young and once vigorous man. 
 The face— dark-haired, dark-bearded— was noble 
 and gentle, and the trickling water fell drip, drip, 
 upon the marble forehead, and flowed over the 
 motionless form, m a strangely dreary, icy man- 
 ner. 
 
 There was but one vestige of the death which 
 had come upon him unawares — a bright scar 
 across the temple on the left side— and even that 
 had not disfigured the beauty of the corpse. 
 
 As I stood gazing at it in tlie light, which every 
 moment grew more uncertain, as the shadows of 
 twilight gathered down, a hundred strange im- 
 ages flickered through my mind, and seemed re- 
 flected on the blank white of the wall beyond. 
 
 I saw the dimly-lighted lonely street, with its 
 single wayfarer, and the stealthy-footed garroter 
 springing" in his track, his assistants lurking at 
 convenient corners. Then the light tap on the 
 forehead, the head thrown back, the deadly hug 
 from behind, with the sharp wrist-bone pressed 
 against the Adam's apple; and then three vil- 
 lains stealing noiselessly away, and leaving a 
 senseless rifled form on the sidewalk. 
 
 I had a fleeting vision of the dark, irregular 
 pier at the river's brink, and the mad suicide 
 rushing forward for the final plunge into etep« 
 nity. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 21 
 
 Tho concert-saloon brawl rose before me; the 
 
 aailor from abroad, full of money and whiakey; 
 
 and the sharp club-blow from behind the bar- 
 
 ^ counter, which stunned him and left him to be 
 
 robbed. 
 
 The rowdy-fight in tho street, and the stampede 
 as the police approached, with the BinRlo, uian- 
 glcd, bleeding body left to grace tho cold stones. 
 
 Th-^fejand a hundred visions more of a similar 
 charaeter, passed through my brain, and flick- 
 ered on the blank-white wall of the Morgue, as I 
 stood gazing in upon tho single young corpse 
 that lay there, when a sudden groan at my left 
 startled me wonderfully. 
 
 I had thought I was alone -alone with the 
 dead. 
 
 Recovering from my foolish fright, I saw that 
 a stranger had entered the apartment unknown 
 to me. 
 
 He was a tall, gaunt man, clothed in a heavy 
 black cloak, which almost enveloped his entire 
 form. A large slouched hat concealed his fea- 
 tures. But I noticed that his frame trembled 
 violently, and ho gazed into tho glass case sur- 
 rounding the corpse with an apparent eagerness 
 which was quite remarkable. 
 
 He was apparently entirely unaware of tlie 
 presence of any one else but liimself, and began 
 speaking to lumself in a wild and half inco- 
 herent manner, which I Tj-ot could understand. 
 
 '■ Great Heavenl here it is! It looks just as it 
 did, though naked and cold! Oh, Heaven! why 
 cannot I fly from it ? I must still come and look, 
 look, look! I think I must be growing mad! 
 There is the gash — the very 
 gash I— oh. Heaven have mercy 
 upon me!" 
 
 He said all this in a very low 
 tone, but with an intensity that 
 Tuade up for loudness. 
 
 Not thinking, at the moment, 
 that he might be intimately 
 ■connected with the deed of 
 blood, I laid my hand upon his 
 shoulder, and" was about to 
 speak consoling words, when ho 
 started from me as if my touch 
 had been an adder's sting. 
 
 "AVho are you? What do 
 you mean ? I didn't do it. I 
 swear to Heaven I had no hand 
 in it! Can't a man come into 
 the Morgue to take a look ? Go 
 away from me! / had nothing 
 to do with it." 
 
 Then, as his mind grew 
 calmer, he controlled his feel- 
 ings, and said, with a very gen- 
 tlemanly and pleasant tone: 
 
 "Forgive me. I meant no 
 rudeness. 1 am nervous, and 
 my mind was engrossed by 
 many things." 
 
 I bowed my indifference, but 
 must say that I viewed my com- 
 panion "with a feeling of repul- 
 .-iion which I had never be- 
 fore felt for a human being. 
 
 He extended his hand. I 
 drew back, hesitating. "\Miat!" he exclaimed. 
 " Do yon think ? Do you really thmk ? " 
 
 He said no more, but, rushing from the room, 
 aped down the darkening street like a specter of 
 guilt. 
 
 I really do not know what I did think; but I 
 would not have had that man's nervous tempera- 
 ment at that time for my weight in bullion. — 
 H'atkan D. Timer, in the Kern lork Weekly. 
 
 tender, the doors loading to the street are wide 
 open, and one minute has not yet expired since 
 the first stroke of tho bell! 'Iho engineer taps 
 me on the shoulder, and orders me into a place 
 on the narrow platiorm behind the engine. 
 
 " Hold on for your life!" 
 
 The advice is scarcely in my ear when the 
 horses plun^jo forward, and the machine rolls off 
 the smooth floor of tho station on to tho cobble- 
 stones of the street, which seem to (ly out of their 
 beds in tho rebound ot tho wheels. The excite- 
 ment bewilders; the stores and houses along tho 
 route are indistinct; for a mom('nt our feet arc 
 shaken from under us as wo sharply turn a cor- 
 ner; tlion a greater ease in motion tellH us that wo 
 have left tho cobble-stones or IJelgian paveiuent 
 for asphalt or macadam; the tremendous finger 
 of the steam-gauge indicates a high and higher 
 pressure; the furnace blazes with increasing ve- 
 liemciico, and the Hiuake-stack emits dense 
 wreaths of mingled smoke and sparks, which arc 
 blown back upon us, and inclose us m their suf- 
 focating blackness. The experience is thrilling 
 beyond measure to a novice, and tho absorbed 
 expression of tlie men who have been used to tlic 
 thmg for years shows that it also has some effect 
 upon them. The engine stops abruptly in front 
 01 a building out of winch some smoke is drift- 
 ing; tho hose is uncoiled from the tender, a 
 hydrant is tapped, and in less than five minutes 
 after tho first stroke of the alarm at tho station 
 a stream of water is thrown upon the fire by the 
 engine, whicli gasps for breath, apparently, at 
 the haste. Within those five minutes twelve or 
 
 A FIRE ALARM IN NEW YORK. 
 
 A hoxm-somrDisa bell breaks the silence with 
 several imperative-strokes following each other 
 in quick and startling succession— tho cause an 
 electric current, the effect like the crack of doom 
 in a limited area. The firemen spring out of 
 their beds simultaneously, without losing a tenth 
 of a second in hesitation or surprise; ten pairs 
 of legs are simultaneously thrust into trousers 
 by the bedside, and two'hitches pull on both 
 trousers and boots. The trousers close upon the 
 hips, so that no time is lost with suspenders or 
 belts, and the miraculous toilet is complete, 
 while I stand confused by the distressing sud- 
 denness of things. The noise in the lower room 
 IS as though the foundations of the building were 
 being blasted by dynamite. The bell is still 
 .-itriking, repeating th"e signal five times over, and 
 the last fireman is half wav down-stairs before I 
 recover myself and hastilv follow him. Below 
 stairs the horses are hitch'ed to the engine, the 
 driver is on the jbox, the furnace is lighted, the 
 men have taken their precarious positions on the 
 
 BLOOMINOD.\LE ASYLUM. 
 
 thirteen men have been aroused from a sound 
 sleep and have dressed themselves, three horses 
 have been taken out ot a stable and attached to 
 vehicles, and the vehicles and men have trav- 
 eled five blocks. 
 
 But if one should speak to the men about it, 
 they would deprecate admiration. During the 
 first visit of the Grand Duke Alexis to New York, 
 an aiarm of fire was sounded at the Clarendon 
 Hotel, in Fourth Avenue, and a stream of water 
 turned upon the building by an engine within 
 two minutes and thirty-five seconds, the engine 
 having been manned and brought four blocks in 
 the mean time. It is not unusual for the engine 
 to be out of the house and on its way to a fire 
 within forty seconds of the moment when the bell 
 first strikes. 
 
 We will not remain with the men at the fire, 
 which may do little damage, and occupy them 
 for an hour, or reduce millions of dollars worth 
 of property, and occupy them for a whole night. 
 
 As soon as they return to the station, no matter 
 how tired they niay be, the engine is restored to 
 its original co"nditi"on of brilliancy, the horses are 
 groomed, the harncBs is washed with Castile 
 soap, the hose is ro-adjusted on the tender, and 
 an hour afterward, or less, the company is fully 
 prepared to answer another alarm. Each man 
 places his hat and coat in his seat on the tender, 
 and puts them on after he has started for the 
 fire; he also has a particular place and a particu- 
 lar duty assigned to him in hitching up the horses, 
 which is done br electric snaps, and in getting 
 the engine out of the house, the entire perform- 
 ance often consuming no more than ten seconds. 
 
 THE "DEAD BEATS" OF THE METROPOLIS. 
 
 Gotham's lazy Brotherhood of Dead Beats is 
 recruited from all quarters. Pretty much every 
 town big enough to raise a rascal contributes itK 
 quota. East, West, North, or bouth, it is all the 
 same. Just as the sharpers^ swindlers and 
 miscellaneous rogues of every section drift to- 
 ward tho busy metropolis, so do the dead beats. 
 Let a stranger from any part of tho country put 
 up at a New York hotel, and the chances arc 
 that before his first cigar is finished some fellow 
 from his own place, who can claim some ac- 
 quaintance, will find him out and try to make a 
 strike. " The hotel game " is a favorite one. It 
 IB worked every day, and often with a good deal 
 of success. That was how Franklin Sloses, ex- 
 Governor of South Carolina, made out for a 
 couple of years before the crooked affair that 
 landed him in the penitentiary. Moses was 
 known in one way or another to a good many 
 Southerners visiting New York. Most of them 
 had a mighty small opinion of him, but ho had 
 a smooth tongue and a fair share of the ingenu- 
 ity of the natural born rascal, and when ho ap- 
 proached them in shabby clothes and told a piti- 
 ful story of hard luck, there were not many who 
 would hot say to themselves: "Well, I'll give 
 tho poor devil a dollar, anyway." Moses hung 
 around the hotels nearly all the time. The de- 
 tectives and porters knew him and kept an eye 
 on him, but he did not mind that so long as he 
 had a chance to pick up an odd dollar or two. 
 He lodged wherever he could, according to the 
 state of his {jocket, and got his 
 meals, such as they were, in 
 the same way. A year before 
 the police took him in charge 
 he rang an old Columbia ac- 
 quaintance out of bed after mid- 
 night to borrow twenty-five 
 cents to pay for a bed. That 
 was rather a come down for a 
 Governor, but not quite so bad, 
 perhaps, as being yanked off to 
 the penitentiary for the mean- 
 est kind of fraud. An old man 
 was swindled by a professional 
 sharper. Moses went to him, 
 said he was a lawyer and could 
 get back the money, and so 
 wormed himself into the old 
 man's confidence that ho got 
 more money out of him. Then 
 a police court and the peniten- 
 tiary, and ex-Governor Moses 
 passed out of sight. 
 
 THE HOTEL BEAT. 
 
 A dift'erent type of the 8pe« 
 cies is the dead beat wlio gets 
 a living out of the hotel men 
 themselves. Probably a more 
 proper classification in this case 
 would put him in the category 
 of swindlers, but then, nearly 
 all dead beats are swindlers of 
 some sort. The hotel beat is 
 pretty well known everywhere. 
 His clothing is always a trifle shabby, but he 
 generally contrives to spruce up in such a way 
 that the shabbiness is not much noticed. His 
 manner is sometimes easy and sometimes lofty, 
 and his main object at all times is to disarm sus- 
 picion. He makes his rounds with a minimum 
 of baggage, a maximum of brass and a fair 
 average of cunning, the brass and the cunning 
 always working in harmony. Some years ago 
 the iiotel men formed an association for mu- 
 tual protection against miscellaneous frauds, 
 including the habitual beat, and since that time 
 he has not been able to make out quite so well. 
 All old stager is pretty sure to be known, and 
 treated with such gross and summary disrespect 
 as would disgust and humiliate a Kentucky 
 mule. Ho may even find himself expelled so 
 suddenly that lie does not know how the thing 
 happene'd till it is all over. The new hand, 
 though, still has a fair chance. Even the de- 
 tectives, who are always on duty around the 
 hotel offices, may not discover anything suspi- 
 cious in him till "he is ready to slip out and play 
 his game somewhere else. In some cases he 
 pays up for one week in order to clear the way 
 for a second, but his general rule is to pay noth- 
 ing and get all he can. The proverbial black 
 sheep of every family is pretty sure to be a hotel 
 beat at one time or another. One young man of 
 this kind has swindled nearly evei-y liotel in 
 New York in the course of his swift career, and 
 is now cavorting, so to speak, somewhere out 
 West. His family cut him off long ago as a hope- 
 less case, but he still uses the family name as 
 capital m hia dead-beat enterprises, and as it ia 
 
THE QREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 pretty well known he gete a living out of it, at all 
 events. As the son of Vanbueren Blank, pro- 
 duce dealer, he ia supposed to be good for his 
 board bill, any way, and, possibly, the $10 or $20 
 he borrows for an hour of so, and his true char- 
 acter is not suspected till after he has used part 
 of the money to put a lew hundred miles between 
 himself and his victim. 
 
 BEATS AT THE CLTTBS. 
 
 The genus beat is probably as well known in 
 the club-rooms as anywhere else. Every club in 
 New York can make a fair exhibit of specimens. 
 The club-room beat must necessarily be of a 
 higher type than most of the others. He needs 
 social standing in order to get into the club, and 
 he needs to dress well and be able to play the 
 gentleman to maintain any status afterward. 
 Two types of the beat are familiar to club men. 
 One 18 the genial, pleasant fellow who is always 
 in need of a loan, which he always forgets to re- 
 turn unless it is dunned out of him, and the 
 other is the affable, plausible, wide-awake man 
 about town, who is up to all the points at cards 
 and can handle a billiard cue like an expert. 
 The chronic borrower comes to be looked upon 
 after awhile as a nuisance, unless, as is some- 
 times the case, his geniality is sufi6cient to over- 
 come annoyance at his importunities. Most men 
 tind it hard to get out of humor with a thoroughly 
 pleasant fellow and cut him altogether, even 
 though he has a weakness for borrowing. As 
 
 for the card and billiard 
 
 man, whose whole exist- 
 ence, almost, is passed at 
 the club, while he proba- 
 bly would take great of- 
 fense at being called a 
 beat, the name seems to 
 fit him much better than 
 anr other. As a rule he 
 follows no business out- 
 side of the club-rooms. In- 
 side he is not often idle. 
 He may be lound in the 
 card-room or billiard-room 
 at all times, and he is al- 
 ways ready to plav. As a 
 matter of course, liis play 
 must bo fair, else his com- 
 pany in any respectable 
 club would soon be dis- 
 pensed with, but he has 
 made the play a close 
 study, and is more expert 
 at it than most of his fel- 
 low-players. Some men of 
 this class make a comfort- 
 able living at the clubs at 
 the expense of their asso- 
 ciates. I hear of one who 
 clears an average of $3,000 
 a year at wlust alone. 
 Others aro satisfied with 
 less, but all make enough 
 for current expenses on a 
 moderate scale. An odd 
 thing is that members who 
 have been worsted by them 
 over and over, and made 
 to contribute freely to their 
 exchequer, keep on meet- 
 ing them, and being worsted, and making con- 
 tributions, just as though the whole thing were a 
 noveltv. In this case, at any rate, the adage 
 about Dumed children and the tire isn't worth a 
 cent. 
 
 DEAD BEAT LAWYERS. 
 
 The legal fraternity also has its share. 1 know 
 one lawyer, a rascal as well as a beat, who prob- 
 ably has not earned an honest dollar in ten 
 years, but who has managed to live in pretty 
 good style, nevertheless. Nothing would please 
 this man better than a cluincc for a libel suit, so 
 I shall take care not to designate him too plainly. 
 He turned up in New York some fifteen years 
 ago, got in with the Tweed politicians and pock- 
 eted some of their plunder, and has since beaten 
 landlords, boarding-house keepers and a good 
 many others out of their met dues by bullying 
 and making threats of the law. One day an old 
 acquamtance met him in the street and asked 
 him casually about a certain matter, and next 
 morning received a bill for $25, consultation fee. 
 He paid the bill, but dropped the acquaintance. 
 Another lawyer who appeared here about the 
 same time, from a Soutiiern city, made a round 
 of all to whom he could obtain an introduction 
 (the circle was large, as his wife's family was 
 well known and highly esteemed) and borrowed 
 in every case where a dollar could be raised. He 
 hcd military rank, a fine appearance and an im- 
 posing manner, and he rarely failed to get money. 
 
 When he had exhausted the possibilities of bor- 
 rowing he returned South, and is still there, 
 whde his wife, who has had to give him up alto- 
 gether, supports herself in New York by teach- 
 ing. One of the shabbiest figures to be seen on 
 Broadway is that of a lawyer, who was in good 
 circumstances not many years ago. How he fell 
 to his present condition I do not know, but he 
 now ekes out a miserable living by going around 
 to law offices, where ho was known in better 
 times, and accepting any sum that may be of- 
 fered. He does not ask for money, but his ob- 
 ject for calling is always known, and he rarely 
 goes away empty handed. He does not even say 
 "good morning," or "thank you," but takes 
 what is given him, and goes away without a 
 word. This man seems to have fallen into a 
 morbid state that will probably end in insanity. 
 
 THEATRICAL BEATS. 
 
 The theatrical beat (I don't mean the chronic 
 dead-head, who, however, is as much a beat as 
 any beggar on the streets), is familiar wherever 
 the profession has a rendezvous of any kind. He 
 is not a bad sort of fellow, but he is always hard 
 up, and forever disregarding the advice of Po- 
 louins as to borrowing. A calling so uncertain 
 as that of the " snap " actor is pretty sure to pro- 
 duce a fair proportion of beats, as nearly all call- 
 ings do, for that matter. This particular beat 
 haunts the places where actors meet. He hangs 
 around the dramatic agencies, the front doors 
 
 mon BBrooE, kew tore 
 
 and stage doors of the theatres, the entrances to 
 hotels where actors stop, and the bar-rooms 
 where they Bometimes drop in for a drink. His 
 clothes arc generally seedy, bat he wears them 
 with a jauuty air, and occasionally he poses and 
 stmts in a way that recalls the ludicrous Fitzal- 
 tamont of poor Sothern. Union Square is his 
 favorite stamping-ground in New York, for it is 
 there the Thespians resort, and his chance of 
 picking up something is best. The poor fellow is 
 oflen actually hungry, and the price of a meal in 
 a cheap restaurant is a godsend. Only a few 
 actors even of this kind aro really dissipated, 
 but all are ready for a glass of beer, and nearly 
 all have the common failing of forgetting to pay 
 up when they happen to be momentarily flush. 
 When one does abandon himself wholly to drink 
 and dead-beatism, he still finds a sympathetic 
 spot among his more reputable brethren, and is 
 rarely turned off with a curse or a kick, as some 
 others who get down in the world are likely to 
 be. The boys may swear at tim a little for not 
 taking better care of himself, but they generally 
 give him a trifle. The theatrical beat hardly 
 ever sponges outside. His operations are con- 
 fined to the circle of his own calling, and he trou- 
 bles the general public very little indeed. This 
 much, at least, should be put down to his credit. 
 
 THE PHIL.^JJTHROPIC BEAT. 
 
 In the whole brotherhood of beats there is none 
 more contemptible than the fellow who uses a 
 
 pretense of philanthropy to make an easy living 
 for himself. New York offers a fine field for this 
 kind of fraud. The numerous charitable socie- 
 ties afford both opportunity and facility. Both 
 men and women attach themselves to them for 
 the sole purpose of providing for number one. 
 I do not speak now of the swindlers of both sexes 
 who start " asylums," "homes," "shelters," 
 " folds," and so on of their own, and make per- 
 sonal use of two-thirds of the cash they manage 
 to collect, but merely of those who connect them- 
 selves with recognized societies and institutions, 
 and live on them in the name of philanthropy. 
 A favorite dodge is to get credentials and a col- 
 lection book, and then appropriate fifty per cent, 
 of the receipts. Men who resort to this way of 
 making a living usually work up a benevolent 
 aspect, an impressive manner and a tone that 
 combines piety and persuasion. Now and then 
 a vulgar fellow of the Stiggins type tries his hand, 
 but his success does not encourage him to stick 
 to the business. He can make out better at some 
 other kind of fraud. Again, there are persons, 
 of both sexes, with a special aptitude for collect- 
 ing for charity, who make a good living in a way 
 that the societies consider quite legitimate. They 
 receive a large percentage on the money they 
 collect in lieu of a salary. In some cases the al- 
 lowance is as much as thirty per cent., and 
 amoimts to more in the aggregate than the col- 
 lectors could make at any kind of work. Of 
 coarse, the persons who give money for charity 
 do not know that one-thir<l 
 of it goes into the pockets 
 of the collectors. Then 
 there are the people who 
 manage some societies and 
 institutions on a p|u rely 
 commercial basis, ' so far 
 as their own interests are 
 concerned, holding on to 
 good places at good sala- 
 ries year after year, and 
 making every point count 
 in their own favor. I do 
 not hesitate to say that a 
 large number of the agents 
 and servants ot charity and 
 general philanthropy i u 
 New Y'ork are dead-beats, 
 pure and simple — no, not 
 simple, for they keep Num- 
 ber One first all the time. 
 
 BE.^TS OF THE STREET. 
 
 The variety of dead-beats 
 ■who pick up a living on tlio 
 Btreets, as common beggars 
 or plausible inipostors, ir> 
 also unlimited. The figurcH 
 of some have been familiar 
 for years. One in particular 
 has often interested me. It 
 ia fully ten years since I 
 first met the old man, who 
 sometimes introduces him- 
 self as the father of Jim 
 Fisk, and again talks about 
 the sick wile who is dying for 
 want of food. At first he 
 haunted the neighborhood 
 of Union Square, out latter- 
 ly he has established himself in an up-town sec- 
 tion, of which the Windsor Hotel is the center. 
 No one meeting this venerable humbug for the 
 first time could fail to be impressed. His ap- 
 pearance combines the imposing and the pic- 
 turesque. He is over six feet high, with broad 
 shoulaere which lean forward just a little, and a 
 physique as sturdy as a plowman's. His face is 
 smooth, and suggests the daily use of a razor. 
 The features arc strong and regular, and might 
 be those of a minister or a doctor. His hair, al- 
 most white, falls to his shoulders, and with the 
 strong, smooth face, gives him an aspect of re- 
 spectability. He is always comfortably clad, 
 and he always carries a stout stick in his left 
 hand, holding out the right for any odd change 
 that his appeals for help may draw from the un- 
 wary. This old man, who is simply a chronic 
 beggar, a liar and a first-class beat, looks as if, 
 with a little fixing up in dress, he would adoni 
 the United States Senate. His story about being 
 the father of Jim Fisk takes in a few of the es- 
 pecially gullible, and the story about the sick 
 wife has its effect too. At all events he picks up 
 a pretty good living, and it is said that he has 
 some money laid by. 
 
 The New York Bowery received its name from 
 the many trees on it. The last one remaining, a 
 button-ball at least seventy years old, was cut 
 down to make room for the "elevated railroad. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 23 
 
 DETECTIVE FOBCE OF NEW YORK. 
 
 The followiug article upon tho Metropolitan 
 Detective Force is takeu Iroin Matthew Halo 
 Smith's " Sunshine and Shadow m Now York," 
 pubhshod by the J. B. Burr Publishing Com- 
 pany, of Hartford, Conn.: 
 
 Tho Hyslom of dotoctivos is not old. In former 
 times tlie idea ol a sharp criminal officer was ex- 
 pressed iu the adage " Set a rogue to catch a 
 rogue." The modern theory is, tliat integrity, 
 tact, industry, are the best qualitioatious of a 
 good detective. For many years there existed a 
 set of men in Loudon known as Bow Street offi- 
 cers. They were remarkably shrewd, wore more 
 than a match for tho sharpest villains, and could 
 ferret out crimes and outwit the shrewdest 
 rogues. When the London Metropolitan Police 
 system was adopted, an order of men were in- 
 troduced, called detectives. This force was com- 
 posed of men who seemed to have a gift for de- 
 tecting crime. They could scent out a murder, 
 and track tho perpetrator over oceans and 
 across continents. They could unravel tho mys- 
 teries of a robbery, and bring to light things of 
 darkness. Under Mr. Matsell, iu this city, a 
 small force was gathered, and were known as 
 shadows, because they silently and persistently 
 followed their victim. In 1857, the detectives, as 
 a distinct corps, were created. The force is 
 small — about twenty-five men. It is very effi- 
 cient. Captain Young, tho chief, who has had 
 many years' experience, is cool, keen, brave, 
 clear-headed. He is so adroit in catching rogues 
 and restoring stolen goods, that many persons, 
 after their property has been returned to them, 
 go to the commissioners and demand that Cap- 
 tain Young shall bo tried for complicity. They 
 do not believe that a man could bring back stolen 
 property unless he has some share m the origi- 
 nal theft. 
 
 QCALIFICATIONS OF A DETECTIVE. 
 
 Good detectives are rare. An unblemished 
 character is indispensable, for the temptations 
 are many. A detective must be quick, talented, 
 and possess a good memory; cool, unmoved, able 
 to suppress all emotion; have great endurance, 
 untiring industry, and keen relish for his work; 
 put on all characters, and assume all disguises; 
 pursue a ti-ail for weeks, or months, or years; go 
 anywhere at a moment's notice, on the land or sea, 
 go without tood or sleep; follow the slightest clew 
 till he reaches the criminal; from tho simplest 
 fragment bring crime to hght; surround himself 
 with secrecy and mystery; have great force ot 
 will; a character without reproach, that property 
 and persons may be safe in his hands; with a 
 high order of intellectual power. The modern 
 detective system is based on the theory that pu- 
 rity and intelligence has a controlling power 
 over crime. Detectives must be pure men, and, 
 like Caesar's wife, be above suspicion when they 
 come out from the ordeal through which they 
 have to pass. To obtain the right kind of men, 
 the force has often to be sifted and purged. 
 
 So the old High Constable of New York was 
 known. He was the first real detective of the 
 city. He was a short, thick-set, stout-built man, 
 looking as it nature intended him for a giant, 
 and altered her mind. He had a round, stolid 
 face, of the hue of mahogany — a genuine Jewish 
 physiognomy. He was an "honest man, of high 
 moral and religious character, and a consistent 
 member of the Scotch Presbyterian Church, then 
 worshipping in Grand Street. He lived in the 
 time wnen the guardians of the city were watch- 
 men. With their old camlet cloaks and huge 
 lanterns, they prowled about the city at night, 
 and were known as leatherheads, from the 
 leather cap they wore. Hays had a small office 
 in the Tombs. He was a regular autocrat, and 
 held the monopoly of catching thieves. He was 
 about the only poUce officer in the State who 
 did any business. He was really a great man. 
 So successful was he as a detective, that his 
 fame spread over the whole civilized world. He 
 was as well known in London as New York. He 
 was a terror to evil-doers. " Old Hays is after 
 you! " would send juvenile scamps off at any 
 time. He could track a rogue by instinct. Men 
 beUeved he was in league with criminals all over 
 tho world, and that his religious profession was 
 a sham and a blind. If a robbery was committed 
 in Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Liverpool, 
 or London, the matter was put in the hands of 
 Old Hays. Fifteen years after his death, letters 
 came from the chief of police, London, pertain- 
 ing to criminals and crime, addressed to "Jacob 
 Hays, High Constable of New York." 
 
 HOW THE DETECTIVES DO THEIR WORK. 
 
 Crime is not only systematized, but elaseified. 
 Each adroit rogue has a way of doing things 
 which is as personal as a man's liaudwritiug. We 
 have really lew great men; great orators, men of 
 mark, distinguished authors or men of towering 
 success, are few. If a princely donation is made, 
 or a noble deed done, and the name withhold, 
 tho pubUc at once point out the man— it would 1)0 
 so like him. Bad talented men arc few. Adroit 
 rogues are not manv. Men capable of a dash- 
 ing robbery, a bold burglary, or great crimes, do 
 not abound. If a store is broken open in Now 
 York, a bank robbed m Baltimore, or a heavy 
 forgery in Boston, the detectives will exanuno 
 the work and toll who did it. As painters, 
 sculptors, artists, engravers, have a style pe- 
 culiar to themselves, so have rogues. A Chicago 
 burglar, a safo-broaker from Boston, a bank- 
 robber from Philadelphia, a New York thief, 
 have each their own way of doing things. They 
 Cinuot go from one ciiy to another without ob- 
 servation. If a crime is committed, and these 
 gentlemen are around, detection is sure to fol- 
 low. The telegraph binds the detective force to- 
 gether in all parts of the Union. A great crime 
 ifltolegraped to every leading city. When an 
 adroit rogue leaves the city, his whereabouts 
 are sent over the wires. The detective on hie 
 track is the gentlemanly-looking, affable per- 
 sonage with whom he has been chatting in the 
 railroad car. The rogue lauds in New York, 
 and the friendly hand that helps him up the 
 gang-plank, or off the platform, is that of a de- 
 tective. A keen eye is upon him every moment 
 till he is locked up or departs from the city. 
 When he leaves, the car is not out of tho station- 
 house before the telegraph announces to some 
 detective far away the departure and the desti- 
 nation. His haunts are known, his associates, 
 the men who receives stolen goods, and his part- 
 ners in crime. 
 
 WHY BOOCES OO CLEAR. 
 
 The detectives often recover goods and money 
 while the criminals escape. People wonder why 
 the criminals were not brought to punishment. 
 The first duty of the officer is to" bring the 
 offender to trial. But this cannot always be 
 done. The evidence is often insufficient. The 
 next best thing is to secure the money or prop- 
 erty. Many robberies are committed in places 
 of ill-repute. Parties are compromised. Victims 
 from the country, who are respectable at home, 
 do not like to read their names in the newspaper. 
 Hundreds of thousands of dollars are annually 
 returned to their owners through tho detectives, 
 which would have been lost without their vigi- 
 lance. But in many instances dishonest detec- 
 tives deliberately divide with the thieves. This 
 has been done in several cases of bond and bank 
 robberies. By "arrangement'' possibly two- 
 thirds of the plunder has been returned, and the 
 remaining third shared by the thieves and the 
 catchers. This business enables some of the 
 force to wear big diamonds, and own and live in 
 brown stone fronts, on a salary of $1,200 a year. 
 
 HE,\DQUABTEB8. 
 
 In the elegant marble building on Mulberry 
 Street, where the Metropolitan Police force cen- 
 ter, there will be found the heqrtquarters of the 
 detectives. Though it is under Ine charge of the 
 general superintendent, the detectives are an in- 
 dependent body within the police force. The 
 chief. Captain John S. Young, has been many 
 years at tne head of this department. He is a 
 heavy-built, stocky person, with an immense 
 head and face, sandy hair, somewhat curly, a 
 stolid and heavy look, and nothing but his eye 
 indicates that he is the sharpest, coolest, bravest, 
 and most adroit detective in the civilized world 
 to-day. His room is homely, ill-furnished, and 
 unsightly. He never seems to be doing anything, 
 or to have anything on hand, or to be interested 
 in anything. His associates in the room— a dozen 
 men, more or less, dressed in ordinai-y citizerf s 
 clothes — lie round on the benches, straddle the 
 chairs, lean up against the wall, talking, smok- 
 ing, and doing nothing, looking like a band of 
 idle loafers without a purpose. In this group 
 the uninitiated would fail to recogniise the com- 
 pany of the most talented, persevering, sharp- 
 sighted, keen-8cent«d, and most successful 
 criminal detectives; men who have been in the 
 criminal business from their boyhood; men who 
 have been selected from hundreds, and who 
 have been in the force for a quarter of a century. 
 They are silent, suspicious, secretive. They 
 never talk of what thev have on hand. Of the 
 past they will speak, of the future they have no- 
 thing to "say. They have incidents and adven- 
 
 tures in their possession more thrilliDg than any 
 criminal novel ever written. In their room I 
 passed a night not long since, and learned from 
 them the romantic incidents that I am about k> 
 state. 
 
 THE ARREST OF A PICKPOCKET. 
 
 Said one of the detectives, "The chief called 
 for mo one day, and put a case in my hands, 
 which I was required to work up. A gentleman 
 of tho city, who was supposed to be worth a for-, 
 tunc, sufldenly failed. His failure was a bad: 
 one, but his honor was without a stain. He was 
 guardian for two orphan children, and took tho 
 cars one morning for tho purpose of investing 
 some three thousand dollars that he held in tho 
 name of the children. When he reached the 
 office up town, where the investment was to bo 
 made, he found his money was gone. He had 
 been robbed iu tlio cars. In great distress he 
 came to the office, and communicated his loss 
 to the chief. He said, when he was rich bis tale 
 of robbery would have been believed; now he 
 was poor, it would bo said that he had robbed 
 himself. I examined the man closely, and had 
 no doubt that his story was a true one. He had 
 but little light to throw on the robbery. The car 
 was crowded, and he stood on the platform. He 
 renieuibcrod that during the passage, as a per- 
 son got out of the car, a young man was thrown 
 against him. He had a dim recollection of the 
 person, thinking no wrong at the time. Car- 
 robbing is very common, but it is very delicate 
 business, and few can do it well. I had my sus- 
 picions as to who committed the robbery. I took 
 a car to go down town. In it was the very per- 
 son I was in search of. His new clothes, new hat, 
 and boots, and watch, indicated that he was 
 flush. I stopped the car, touched the young man 
 on the shoulder, and told him to follow me. His 
 face crimsoned in an instant, and I knew that I 
 had got my man. I took him to the station-house, 
 and accused him of the crime. I told him that 
 the man who had lost the money would, in the 
 language of pickpockets, 'buff him to death' i' 
 he did not restore tho money; but if he would 
 ' turn up the money ' he might clear out. These 
 robbers, all of them, have accomplices. They 
 never can tell when they 'peach.' I had no evi- 
 dence that would convict this person. No judge 
 would hold him a minute on my suspicion, but 
 the thief did not know that. He pulled off his 
 boots and the money came back, all but one 
 hundred dollars which he had spent. The grate- 
 ful merchant received it with tears of joy. 
 
 AN OLD Man in TROUBLE. 
 
 ' ' Very few men who come here for relief," 
 said one of the officers, " tell the truth. They 
 make up all sorts of stories to impose upon us, 
 to save their reputation, and to keep themselves 
 out of trouble. If a man tells us the truth, if 
 he has been robbed at a bad house, and de- 
 scribe the parties by whom he has been robbed 
 or wronged, we can relieve him. We can go on 
 board of a train of cars filled with hundreds of 
 people, and tap a pickpocket on his shoulder, and 
 say, ' I want to see you, sir,' and never make a 
 mistake. We can take a telegraphic description 
 of a rogue, and with it walk up Broadway, where 
 thousands are rushing along, pick out our man 
 and march him to the Tombs, and never get the 
 wrong person. One day a sedate-looking man 
 from the rural districts called at our office. He 
 was a merchant, he said. He came to the city to 
 buy goods. He had been robbed of fifteen hun- 
 dred dollars, which he was to pay that day. He 
 was a ruined man unless he could recover his 
 money. He named the hotel where he staid, 
 and in which he had been robbed. His room- 
 mate, a man unknown to him, was asleep when 
 he went to bed, and asleep when he left the room 
 in the morning. He had not been out of the ho- 
 tel since tea, till he discovered his robbery. The 
 man must have robbed him, and he wanted him 
 arrested at once. Captain Young was satisfied 
 that the man ifras not telling the truth. He put 
 the case in my hand, and ordered me to work it 
 up. I went to the hotel, and found everything 
 right there. The room-mate was a merchant 
 from the West, of unquestioned integrity. I came 
 to the conclusion that the man had not told us 
 the truth. I knew that he had been out of the 
 hotel, had been kito disreputable company, and 
 had been robbed. I sent for the victim, and he 
 came, accompanied by a friend, who promised to 
 vouch for his honesty". I said to him, ' Sir, yoa 
 have lied to me. Yon lost your money in Dad 
 company by the panel game. At first he denied 
 it with great vehemence, then he evaded, and 
 finally confessed. With a slight clew as to tho 
 locality, I found the lanel thief, and brought 
 back the money." 
 
24 
 
 THK GRKAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 A MINISTER IN TBOUBLE. 
 
 " Ono day some very excellent people came to 
 the headquartera to complam. The city was un- 
 safe for respectable men; people could not walk 
 about the streets without assault and robbery. 
 It was a pretty state of things if gentlemen could 
 not walk the streets of New York at reasonable 
 hours without being beaten, bullied, and robbed, 
 and their life endangered. ' And what is the 
 matter now ? ' said the ofBcer. ' We are respect- 
 able citizens,' said the complamers, ' and officers 
 of a church. Our minister was assaulted, and 
 beaten, and robbed last night in one of the 
 streets. Ho came over to New York yesterday 
 afternoon on busmess. Ho was returning 
 through Beekman Street about ten o'clock. 
 When near Cliflf Street a band of rowdies assailed 
 him, knocked him down, beat him, muddied and 
 tore his clothes, robbed him of his watch and 
 money, and he reached his afbughted family 
 almost dead.' The case was put into our hands. 
 The night on which the assault was said to have 
 taken place, was a beautiful, bright moonlight 
 evening. The place of assault was so near the 
 station-house, that the cry of distress would have 
 been heard by the captain at his desk. At that 
 time of night a man would have been as safe on 
 Beekman Street as on Broadway. It so hap- 
 pened that two of our officers were on that spot 
 within five minutes of the time the assault was 
 said to have taken place, conversing on matters 
 that detained them ten or fifteen minutes. I was 
 satisfied that no assault had taken place, that no 
 robbery had been committed; that the whole 
 story was trumped up to hide some disgraceful 
 conduct in which the party said to have been 
 wronged was engaged. 
 
 " With this impression, I sent to the minister. 
 He was gp-eatly annoyed that his people had 
 taken any notice oi the matter, or brought it to 
 the attention of the authorities. I told him it 
 had been brought to our attention; that wo were 
 censured for neglect of duty, and that the fame 
 of the city suffered; that we intended to probe 
 the matter to the bottom; that wo intended to 
 follow him every step that ho had taken that 
 afternoon, from the time he left home till he re- 
 turned. We would know all his companions, 
 and all the company he had kept that day. I 
 told him his story was an improbable one; that 
 it was impossible that the robbery could have oc- 
 curred at that time or place; the night was too 
 light, the hour was too early, it was too near the 
 station-house, and more than that, two of our 
 captains were on the spot at that time, and they 
 knew the story was not true. If ho had a mind 
 to make a clean breast of it, and tell the facts as 
 they were, I would keep his name from the pub- 
 lic; if not, I would make a thorough investiga- 
 tion, aud publish his name to the world. He 
 was greatly agitated, blamed his friends for med- 
 dling in the matter, began to cry, and at length 
 made a clean breast of it. He had been drinking 
 that afternoon, went were he ought not to go, 
 and was robbed of his money and his watch. 
 He must account for his situation, did not want 
 to be disgraced, and so bad trumped up the 
 4torT he told to bia elders. The affair was 
 hushed up." 
 
 A SEA CAPTAIN IN DIPFICDLTY. 
 
 "The harbor police notified us," said one of 
 the detectives, "that a ship was lost ofi' Sandy 
 Hook by fire. As the case was reported, there 
 were some things about the loss that did not 
 look right. The next day the papers blazed with 
 an account of a bold robbery. It was said 
 that a sea captain lost a large sum of money at 
 Bamum's. The captain was said to have been 
 peculiarly unlortunate. He lost his ship by Sre 
 off Sandy Hook. Ho had just been paid his in- 
 surance, a very largo sum, which ho was to take 
 to his owners in New England. Ho visited Bar- 
 uum's with the money in his Docket, and on 
 leaving the place it was gone. The audacious 
 robbery flamed in every paper. The statements 
 were so nearly verbatim, that it was evident the 
 captain had written thom himself or furnished 
 the material. The captain issued handbills, 
 offering a reward of five hundred dollars for the 
 recovery of his money. The handbills were cir- 
 culated only among the shipping aud on the 
 wharves. In a few days we received a visit from 
 the captain at headquarters. I was put in 
 charge of the case, and I took down the cap- 
 tain's statement. It differed but slightly from 
 those made in the papers. I was satisfied that 
 he had not been robbed at all. I strongly sus- 
 pected that there was foul play in the destruc- 
 tion of his vessel, and that the captain intended 
 to appropriate the money. Making up my mind 
 how no did this, I directly accused him of the 
 fraud, and described the 'manner in which the 
 
 affair was done. He supposed I knew the whole 
 matter, although he could not imagine how I got 
 hold of it, and was greatly excited. He was as- 
 tounded when I told him that the money was in 
 his inner vest pocket, and that if he 4id not take 
 it out at once 1 should search him, and he must 
 take the consequences. I hit the thing exactly. 
 He had his money hid away in the place I had 
 designated. In tears and in terror he brought 
 forth the money, which was restored to the owner. 
 We could not hold the man for a criminal trial 
 on the evidence we had, and so let him run. He 
 has never sailed from New York since." 
 
 BUBOLAB DETECTED BY A BUTTON. 
 
 A large silk house m New York was robbed of 
 silks and velvets valued at many thousand dol- 
 lars. The burglars hired an old building ad- 
 joining the store. They cut a hole through the 
 wall, entered the store, and carried away the 
 goods. The job was a clean one, and no" trace 
 of the robber was left. The police shook their 
 heads, and the merchants leared they were 
 ruined. One of the shrewdest detectives had the 
 case put into his hands. He examined the prem- 
 ises carefully. The hole in the wall was a small 
 one, and the" burglar squeezed himself through 
 with difficulty. In a little crevice a button was 
 found of a very peculiar fashion. A little plaster 
 adhered to it, indicating that it had been rubbed 
 off as the robber passed through. The detective 
 put the button in his pocket. He had a clew, 
 very slight, but still it was a clew. There are 
 certain resorts in this city for thieves, burglars, 
 and rogues. Here they can be found when off 
 duty. Detectives pass in and out among these 
 desperate men. They never meddle with them 
 on ordinary occasions. They are seldom dis- 
 turbed by the desperadoes, or resisted if they 
 make an arrest. It is well known that the de- 
 tectives go armed, and have no delicacy in the 
 use of weapons. They are selected for their 
 personal bravery no less than for their intelli- 
 gence and integrity. The detective, with the 
 button in his pocket, visited more frequently 
 these haunts than he was accustomed to. The 
 burglars knew something was the matter; but as 
 the detective said nothing and molested no one, 
 the rogues were not disturbed. One evening the 
 detective stood at the door of one of our low 
 
 E laces of amusement. A man passed him who 
 ad peculiar buttons on his coat. The buttons 
 resembled the one the officer had in his pocket. 
 Ho was sure that ho had found his man. Ho fol- 
 lowed him to his seat, sat down beside him, aud 
 seemed intent on the play. He was not so intent, 
 however, but that he saw that the party he was 
 watching had one button loss on his coat than he 
 ought to have. Ho immediately left his seat, 
 went outside, and made arrangement for aid to 
 make an arrest. He came back to his seat, 
 touched the astonished stranger on the shoulder, 
 and invited him outside. Here a corps of po- 
 licemen were waiting to receive him, and he saw 
 that resistance was useless. Knowing that the 
 man could not bo held an hour with no proof but 
 a button, the detective set himself to work to get 
 the goods. He accused the man of the robbery, 
 showed him how it was done, aud hit the case so 
 exactly that the burglar believed that some of 
 his confederates had made a confession. He led 
 the officers to the spot where the goods were 
 concealed. The party was tried and sent to the 
 State prison for flterni of years. The button did 
 more tlian that. The arrest of this man put the 
 detectives on tho track of other burglars. They 
 followed up the matter for months, broke up a 
 den of the most desperate robbers, lodged many 
 of them in prison, among whom was the famous 
 Bristol Bill of England. 
 
 A SHADOW ON THE PATH. 
 
 Small sums of money from time to time were 
 taken from one of our city banks. No clew to 
 the robbery could bo found. A detective was 
 consulted; ne said that the robber was in the 
 bank. A watch was put on all employees, but in 
 vain. The money continued to go. Tho affair 
 was put into the hands of a detective. All un- 
 known to the clerks, this officer visited tho bank 
 at all hours, came in various disguises aud un- 
 der various pretences He was satisfied that 
 the robber was in tho bank, and he fastened on 
 one of the clerks as that individual. Ho fol- 
 lowed the clerk fourteen days, at the end ot 
 which a written statement of tlie whereabouts of 
 the clerk was presented to the bank. It was a 
 perfect curiosity. The detective had not lost 
 sight of the wliereabouts of the young man a 
 single hour. Tho clerk lived out of town. Tho 
 detective rode on the cars with him every day. 
 Ho sailed on the boats, walked in the country, 
 rode in the city. Every place the clerk went into 
 
 was written down, how long he staid, what he 
 ate and drank, and whom he talked with. A de- 
 scription was given of each person he talked 
 with, tho places of amusement ho visited, aud 
 what he paid out. Among other thmgs the rec- 
 ord told, was his visits to gaming and other 
 houses; what time be went to bed; and twice ho 
 rose at two in the morning, left his house, and 
 met certain parties, who were accurately de- 
 scribed. How a man could be followed fourteen 
 days, especially in the country, all that he is do- 
 ing be known, everybody he speaks to described, 
 and the man watched bo ignorant of it, is one of 
 the mysteries of the detective system. The clerk 
 was called into the president's room and charged 
 with the peculations. He was overwhelmed with 
 tho accuracy with which his coming in and going 
 out were noted. He confessed his guilt. The 
 directors were merciful, and did not subject him 
 to a criminal prosecution. 
 
 PBTVATE DETECTIVB8. 
 
 The success of detectives in criminal matters, 
 as a part of the police, has created a private de- 
 tective system, which is at the service of any one 
 who can pay for it. It is a spy system — a system 
 of espionage that is not creditable or safe. Mep 
 are watched and tracked about the city by Uiest 
 gentlemen, and one cannot tell when a spy is on 
 his track. A jealous wife will put a detective on 
 the track of her husband, wtio will follow him for 
 weeks if paid for it, and lay before her a complete 
 programme of his acts and expenditures. If a 
 man wants a divorce, he hires a detective to fur- 
 nish the needed evidence. Slander suits are got 
 up, conducted, and maintained often by this 
 agency. Divorce suits are carried through our 
 courts by evidence so obtained. Sudden ex- 
 plosions m domestic life, the dissolution of 
 households, and family separations originate in 
 this system. It is not very comforting to know 
 that such shadows are on our paths. 
 
 THE RIVER-PIBATE. 
 
 Mant interesting articles in this work have . 
 been culled from Nathan D. Umer's contribu- 
 tions to the New York Weekly, and the following 
 18 from the same source: 
 
 Infinitely less courageous aud manly than his 
 bolder prototype ot the open sea, but quite as 
 ruthless, treacherous and deadly is tho repre- 
 sentative of that class of criminals who, from 
 tho naturo of their vocation, have received the 
 general denomination of River-Pirates. 
 
 They haunt the harbors of all large sea-ports, 
 and scores, even hundreds of them pureuo their 
 nefarious calling, under tho cover of darkness, 
 in tho waters surrounding tho island city of New 
 York. They generally livo on the outskirts and 
 m tho thinlv settled districts, usually occupying 
 some wretched cabin between the water and the 
 edge of some marsh, whose low-lying ground 
 prevents its being generally built upon; but 
 manv of them also live among the vile sailors' 
 haunts which skirt the North and East rivers in 
 tho lower portion of the city. Their near-teth- 
 ered boats, a pair of oars anS a few boat-hooks, 
 constitute their sole mode of operation. And 
 with these, on dark nights— the blacker and 
 ■tormier the more favorable— they issue forth, 
 singly, in pairs, or in groups of three or four, 
 on their missions of evil. 
 
 Barges, canal boats and rafts are stealthily 
 boarded, when it can bo done with comparative 
 safety— for the sneak-thief of the water is a 
 coward, though, rat-like, he will mostly turn 
 when brought to bay. and fight with despera- 
 tion—often to the death. 
 
 No variety of plunder is despised by the River- 
 Pirate. Everytniug that comes to his felonious 
 hand— from a Landful of oakum, or a raveled 
 ropo's-end, to a qiiadrant, telescope or a packace 
 of freight — speedily finds its way into his little 
 boat, as it rocks upon the somber tide, and is 
 thence conveyed to the shore for "planting" 
 (i. e., burying), or to the numerous thieves' 
 " fences " "which exist for this specialty of plun- 
 der all over the citv. 
 
 The larger vessels— steamers, ships, barks and 
 brigs— are mostly shunned on account of the 
 numerous watches patroling tho decks; but 
 small coasting schooners and sloops, which, 
 while at anchor at night, are usually left in the 
 charge of a woman or boy, or a single seaman, 
 aro looked upon as peculiarly excellent sources 
 of robbery. Indeed, cases aro not infrequent 
 where the water-robber ventures to attack and 
 overpower the watch, and at such timea there le 
 an element of romance even in his ignoble and 
 villainous calling. 
 
THK GREAT EMPIRE Cl^rV. 
 
 25 
 
 TUc tempest l8 d«rk and from shore to ahore 
 (iuriiles aud Kroans tiiu iucoiiiiDK tide, 
 
 As. witli noiselesH keel and muffled oar, 
 Like a priaiitoiu lie (flides o'er the waters wide— 
 
 neartless, wltli baiely a soul to save, 
 
 Tlie cowardly, lowbrowed thief of tUc wave. 
 
 Swinging alone on the swells of tlie stream 
 > Is the anchored scliooner just home from afar. 
 While the storm-lit heavens relieve, like a dream, 
 
 The taper-beau IV of mast and spar- 
 On her deck a single lone watcher a-drowse. 
 While his comrades away in the city carouse. 
 
 Kot the sound of an oar In rowlock or wave. 
 But the skiff of the robber swims swift as a gull; 
 
 Cat-like and agile, b\it still as the grave, 
 He clambers the side of the low, dark hull, 
 
 And, crouching, glides like a shadow along, 
 
 While the sailor smokes, aud bums a song: 
 
 A song of the shore and of friendly calls. 
 Or a rollicking ditty of devil-may-care, 
 
 Wueu crash! the cowardly bludgeon falls, 
 And Jack lies, bleeding" and moveless, there. 
 
 He has voyaged bis last, and silent and dim 
 
 The port of the lufluite opens for him. 
 
 From deck to deck the plunderer roves. 
 Then, with noiseless keel and muffled oar. 
 
 Away from the low, dark hull he shoves, 
 Aud his laden boat moves back to the shore. 
 
 or the theft and the crime of poor Jack laid low. 
 
 Only the stream and those black piers know. 
 
 Through the obliging good nature of a detec- 
 tive pohceman, I ouco had au opportunity of in- 
 specting the interior of one of the " fences " os- 
 tabhshod for the convenience ot the Kiver-Pi- 
 latea. It was in a deep, tilthv basement, not a 
 stone's throw from the rear wall of Trinity Church 
 — and was, altogether, one of the strangest plaoes 
 I was ever in. 
 
 After fctuinbling down a dozou moist and dirty 
 stone stops, the proprietor lighted ua through a 
 long passageway to tno rear basement. This was 
 quite roomy, aud was tilled with every descrip- 
 tion ot stolen ship's property. The floor was 
 littered with casks, boxes, baskets, packages, 
 aud heaps of oakum, tow, tarred twine, and 
 pieces of rone; aud a bright looking uegress 
 occupied a cuair in the middle, busily engaged 
 in assorting oakum. Tho shelves surrounding 
 the apartment were heaped with articles of a 
 nicer nature, and upon a small counter I noticed 
 a first-rate compass, a costly ship's quadrant, 
 and a large telescope, which appeared to be 
 brand new. A close, tarry smell, lute that of the 
 bold of a ship, burdened the atmosphere very 
 unpleasantly. 
 
 Whilst we were inspecting this curious hole, 
 au ill-looking ruffian, in muddy top boots, greasy 
 pea-jacket, and frayed fur-cap, tramped noisily 
 m, bendin" under "the weight of a coil of bright 
 uew Manilla rope, which he cast down with a 
 grunt oi satisfaction, but started back alarmedly 
 as he caught sight of the detective. 
 
 "It's all right, Moody," said the fence-keeper, 
 looking up from the rope which he had stooped 
 to examine. "The gentleman is not here on 
 ' business.' " 
 
 The two retired together, I heard the chink of 
 coin (it was before these days of greenbacks), 
 and the proprietor presently returned alone. He 
 was an Irishman of about sixty, whose personal 
 appearance — which could never have been pre- 
 possessing — was no means beautified by the fact 
 that he had only one arm, one eye, and a ghastly 
 scar on his left cheek. He made note of my 
 scrutiny, and said, in a half-apologetic, half- 
 explanatory way, and with a grin which rendered 
 Lis features ten times more repulsive: 
 
 "I was meself one of the b'yes at one time, 
 sir; but I got so badly cut up "by the harbor- 
 cops " (harbor police) " that 1 retired from ac- 
 tive life and became a merchant, as you see for 
 yourself." 
 
 V He offered to go into a long, rambling sketch 
 , of the manner in which he received his mutila- 
 tions, but I was sick with the noisome atmos- 
 phere of the place, and restrained him, th<)ugh I 
 nave since had occasion to regret that I did so." 
 
 "Is all this stolen property? " I inquired. 
 
 He grinned assent, but dii not speak. 
 
 " And how do vou manage to dispose of it with 
 s.%fety?" 
 
 " That," said he. with a wag of the head and a 
 knowing air of reticence, "is one of the thrioks 
 of the thrade." 
 
 As it was evident that he would disclose noth- 
 ing of interest regardin.;; the " thricks," and the 
 smell of the place had grown almost unbearable, 
 we speedily quitted it and gained the open air. 
 
 Owing to the vigilance of our harbor-police — 
 probably one of the best organized and most 
 efficient forces of its kmd in the world — the New 
 York River Pirates of the present day, though 
 far more numerous, are leas bold aud "extensive 
 
 in thoir undertakings than they were some fifteen 
 years ago. At that time the harbor-police wore 
 comparatively few in numbers, and though com- 
 
 f)08ed of steiiing, hardy men, worked with but 
 ittle system. Tliey also patrolled the waters in 
 row-boats nearly altogether, which, of course, 
 gave the wator-tbio vcs a much better opportunity 
 of eluding pursuit than in tho present day of 
 swift steam-tugs and the all-ramifying wire's of 
 the police telegraph. 
 
 The deeds aud tragic cud of Atlantic Craig, a 
 somewhat notorious Itivor-Pirate, who flourished 
 
 about flftoeu years ago, iu tho vicinity of New 
 himself one of the chief actors in tho scenes he 
 
 auuuv iitiA^t.u jvmo *»h"» »" '"^ ..^^i«»v. v^» *.^ 
 
 York, related to me by an old ex-policeman 
 
 depicted— contain enough of the dramatic aud 
 romantic, I tliink, to admit of its concluding this 
 ariicle appropriately. 
 
 Atlantic Craig lived with his wife and daughter 
 in a little cabin, situated near the water's edge, 
 in a singularly lonely place in the neighborhood 
 of Oroenpoint, Long island. He was a river- 
 robber for many years, and though bold and 
 reckless in his enterprises, there was a method 
 in his madness, a shrewdness and perfect knowl- 
 edge of his calling, which long enabled him to 
 pursue it in defiance of the authorities. He was 
 also a power among his follow pirates, who looked 
 up to him as a sort of chieftain, and under his 
 leadership many an extensive ehip-robbery was 
 executed so cleverly, aud the accruing spoils 
 disposed of so adroitly as to render discovery 
 all out impossible. It was also known, almost 
 to a certainty, that he had committed numerous 
 murders; biit the evidence was wanting to bring 
 them home to him, and, unwhipped of justice, 
 he still continued to roam, the terror of tho 
 streams. 
 
 Little was known of hie private life save that 
 he had a pretty daughter, who had more than 
 once excited the admiration of tho passengers on 
 by-goiu" packets, as was, now and then, seen 
 nioving Dare-footed and bare-headed through the 
 long grass of tho marshes, or, perhaps, mending 
 a fishing-net in front of her father's hut. It was 
 also said that she was identical with a certain 
 anonyma, of extraordinary beauty, who was oc- 
 casionly seen on the Broadway promenade, and 
 the elegance and costhness of whose attire at- 
 tracted great attention and enhanced the mys- 
 tery m which she moved; but I know nothmg of 
 the truth of the report. At any rate, it was 
 known that her father would not scruple to lav- 
 ish any amount of his ill-gotten wealth upon her, 
 were she inclined to use it. 
 
 For months and years did the hardy patrolmen 
 of tho harbor .police strive to brmg some deed 
 actually home to Atlantic Craig, but he was too 
 agile and shrewd for them. One of the best and 
 sturdiest oarsmen of our time, he would issue, 
 under cover of night, alone in his boat, from the 
 sedgy margin of his home, and explore the 
 waters for miles, baffling or eluding pursuit by 
 the power of his oar, aud returning home with 
 valuable spoils, which ho knew only too well how 
 to conceal from the prying investigation of a 
 search-warrant. 
 
 One night, however, a coastwise steamer, 
 richly laden, was partially wrecked and deserted 
 by her crew, on the rocks of Hell Gate, just as it 
 opens and surges into the river from the sound. 
 
 The police received intelligence, through some 
 means, that the Eiver-Pirates, under Atlantic 
 Craig's guidance, would "gut" the vessel of 
 everything valuable before morning; and seizing 
 the opportunity of taking their olden enemy, au 
 official long-boat, manned by twelve of the best 
 oarsmen in the force, and containing six of the 
 boldest, hardiest officers, was dispatched to the 
 scene of the wreck. 
 
 It approached so swiftly and cautiously that 
 the pirates were surprisedin their work of plun- 
 der. Several were captured, and the rest scat- 
 tered away like a flock of cranes. Atlantic 
 Craig's boat, distinguished by a belt of crimson 
 round the sides, plainly seen in the moonlight, 
 was observed far away fleeing, like a phantom, 
 toward the boiling waters of Hell Gate, and the 
 police-boat pressed on iu pursuit, giving little of 
 their attention to smaller fry, that might have 
 been easily captured. 
 
 There were twelve rowers to one, and at first 
 they steadily gained on him. But soon they en- 
 tered the troubled waters of the Gate, where the 
 waves swirled and tumbled over the half sunken 
 rocks, like the rapids of a cataract 
 
 It was half-tide, which rendered it still more 
 perilous, and the long-boat had to pick her way 
 with some caution among the wild eddies and 
 whirlpools ot the ocean pass. But the light boat 
 of tho Pirate danced like an eggshell over the 
 boiling surges. The long sweeps and strong 
 arms of the oarsman, together with his perfect 
 knowledge of every inch of the way, enabled him 
 
 ^o obtain a signal advantage over his pursuers. 
 But his over confidence proved bis ruin. Dis- 
 regarding his customary caution, he fearlessly 
 breasted a huge wave that came rolling lu on 
 the increase of the tidal action, and in an in- 
 stant was cast upon a broad rock that rose like 
 the back of a huge tortoise from the troubled 
 stream. 
 
 Dauntless still, ho dragged his shell away, 
 sprang in again, and was once more afloat aud 
 dashing down the rapids. But the delay he had 
 sustained by tho accident had afforded a great 
 advantage to his pursuers, who were now but a 
 few yards in his wake. They were approaching 
 smooth water, where ho knew that the strength 
 of the dozen strong oars would speedily over- 
 haul him. 
 
 Something must be done at once. The Pirat<J 
 chose tho last resort of desperation. He dropped 
 his ours for an instant, raised a pistol aud fired. 
 
 The bow oarsman in the official boat uttered 
 a shriek and fell forward, dead, while the long, 
 important sweep fell, useless, from his nervous 
 grasp. 
 
 The Pirate resumed his oars, and, with z wild 
 laugh, sped onward like a sea-bird. Everything 
 was at a stake with him now — he had sealed his 
 life of infamy with the crime of witnessed mur- 
 der — and he pulled with desperation. 
 
 But the confusion on board the long-boat was 
 but of momentary duration. An officer sprang to 
 take the place of the fallen man, aud again they 
 were hot in the wake of tho fugitive. 
 
 Shot after shot was discharged at him, but still 
 bo sped on. When within a few yards of the 
 shore, he sprang from his boat, capsizing it in 
 doing so, gamed the land, and, tottering forward, 
 fell upon his face at the door of his own cabin. 
 
 When the officers landed, two women — wife 
 and daughter — were moaning and weeping over 
 the fallen form; but Atlantic Craig, the Robber 
 of the Stream, was stone dead, having been 
 pierced by four pistol-balls. 
 
 The above sketch — which is perfectly true, ex- 
 cept that the name of the principal actor is altered 
 — narrates an incident which will hardly be re- 
 peated again in the annals of river-piracy. The 
 two women quitted their cabin shortly after the 
 death of Craig, and were never heard of again; 
 but the tragic end of this captain contributed 
 greatly to intimidate his fellow pirates; and 
 criminals of this class are now mostly of the 
 sneak-thief order. 
 
 HALF A DAY IN CHINATOWN. 
 
 A BEPOBTEU who had been so often to Mott 
 Street on newspaper errands that he was cred- 
 ited with knowing a great deal about the Chinese, 
 made a tour of that thoroughfare with Mr. Wong 
 Chin Foo recently, in order to justify his repu- 
 tation and really find out something about those 
 queer people. "Nearly all that has been written 
 about the colony relates to the gambling and 
 opium dens, and he resolved to avoid those 
 places and try to obtain a little closer knowledge 
 of the people themselves than has been gained 
 by mere observation. 
 
 The reporter began by finding out that his 
 companion is not surnamed Foo, as one would 
 suppose, but is Mr. Wong, Foo being his first 
 giveu name and Chin his middle name. In order 
 to be thoroughly consistent and contrary, the 
 Chinese always 'put their family names first. 
 When they oinit their given names, they put 
 " Ah " ahead of their surnames and call them- 
 selves Ah Wong or Ah Lee. Mr. Wong could 
 not explain this satisfactorily, but the reporter 
 got the idea that Ah means "something like our 
 Mr. Next the reporter discovered that tho names 
 by which we address our laundrymen, and which 
 we take the pains to learn from "the signs in front 
 of their shops, are iu most cases not their names 
 at all, but merely represent the best efforts of the 
 sign painters to convey in paint the sounds their 
 customers tell them "they want on their signs; 
 consequently there is no such name as Moon 
 Shine, which is painted over a Third Avenue 
 laundry. That is merely painters' Chinese. 
 
 Mr. Wong is the editor of the Chinese American. 
 He talks English better than many of our largest 
 Broadway merchants, and has gio\va bold enough 
 to make jokes in it. He writes it with even more 
 courage and confidence. He is 31 years old, and 
 was born in the northern part of China, whence, 
 after declaring war on the Emperor, he fled to 
 Grand Rapids, Mich. Here he cut off his pig- 
 tail, put on button shoes, a frock coal, linen 
 shirt, and Derby hat, and became an American 
 citizen. Now he eats alternately Chinese and 
 American meals, and mixes, in moderation, l£^er 
 beer with rice brandy. His editorial room diners 
 from the others in" this country in poaaeaaing 
 
THE GREAT EMPTFE CITY. 
 
 four bannerets, each bearing a picture of a 
 Chinese woman, and representing the fashions 
 in female attire in the good old days of about 
 1100 B. C, before modern mistakes in dressmak- 
 ing began to creep into the sealed empire. Mr. 
 Wong says that tne dresses represented in his 
 pictures are beautiful. Doubtless he is right 
 ' from hia point of view. The excellence of his 
 taste is shown in his positive statement that 
 - now-a-days the Chinese women do not dress 
 beautifully. 
 
 He says that he is the only man from northern 
 China in New York. He comes from one of the 
 three provinces in which the people speak the 
 i Mandarin or court tongue. That is the language 
 in which all Chinese books are written, and any 
 educated Chinaman can understand him when 
 he speaks it. Every Chinese province, except 
 the Mandarin provinces, has a language of its 
 own, and Mr. Wong says that the Chineso in 
 New York are from a s'outhern province, and 
 that he has had to loam what is practically a 
 foreign tongue in order to associate with them. 
 
 " They are the Yankees of China," he said, 
 " and have always shown a courage and enter- 
 prise that distinguishes them from the rest of 
 their countrymen. At home these New York 
 laundrymen were farmers and small shopkeep- 
 ers. There are some among them who were 
 poor, and had to borrow to come here. They 
 came alone or with strangers, trusting to their 
 own abilitv to get along, realizing all the chances 
 they ran, but mastered by the strength of their 
 desire to make money and return and keep them- 
 selves and their families in comfort. Among 
 them are many who quitted Chiua at the ages 
 of 12, 13, and 14, unaccompanied by friends, and 
 without friends to meet them here. They are 
 like Jews, able to make money anywhere and 
 under almost any circumstances. There is in 
 this city now a boy of 11, who brought money 
 with him, and has hired some Chinamen old 
 enough to be fathers to hioi and has opened a 
 laundry. Where will you find such a people 
 except in China ? In comparison with what 
 they do in coming here, the Germans, Irish, 
 English, and others who immigrate, leaving one 
 ' set of Caucasians to mingle with another set, are 
 not venturesome at all." 
 
 "If they are so bold and confident, why do 
 
 ihey not in many cases bring their wives here ? 
 
 Their failure to do so has strained their welcome; 
 
 ' that and the general belief that they are only 
 
 here to accumulate and carry away money." 
 
 "Those charges against them are all true," Mr. 
 Wonjj said; "they do not expect to stay here. 
 They come here to hoard and take away Ameri- 
 can money. Their emigration to the ncighboriug 
 countries of Asia has been marked by a different 
 feelmg and attitude. They are to bo found in 
 India, Japan, Thibet, Burmah, and Turkestan, 
 and are content to stay there with their families, 
 but they realize how wholly distinct they are 
 from you Caucasians, and the barrier nature has 
 set up between you and them they acknowledge 
 and do not try to overcome. They simply hope 
 to make enough money here to go back and buy 
 houses and farms. Thov behave in this respect 
 exactly as Amei-icans or "lEuropoans would do in 
 Chiua if they went to that country in great num- 
 bers. They do not try to compete with the 
 Americans in skill or art, because they see that 
 all your notions of those things are widely differ- 
 ent from theirs. So they settle down to make 
 money at hard labor. They look forward to a 
 return to Chiua just as a good Christian hopes 
 to get to heaven." 
 
 " How did they all become laundrymen?" 
 
 " Ten years ago probably not one Chinaman 
 now in New York ever heard of such a thing as 
 a laundry. Many who are in the laundries 
 never saw a laundry until a year ago. They 
 learu the trade from one another. The tlrs't 
 [ones learned it in San Francisco. After that 
 every Chinaman who came to this country first 
 
 Eut up at a brother Chinaman's laundry. He 
 ad to make himself useful, and from observing 
 i what the men around him were doing, he found 
 out how to do it himself. Having mastered the 
 j two secrete of the trade, how to make starch and 
 :■ the use of the polisher, he was ready to hire out 
 as a workman or to open a laundry himself. 
 
 " They like New Y'ork better than any other 
 city in America. They speak of it in their lan- 
 guage as ' a great forest.' See, here is the Shang- 
 hai Zu Lem Ye, a Chinese paper. The name 
 means ' literature of the forest, and the word 
 forest refers to the houses, which in numbers 
 are to be likened to^tho trees in a great wood. 
 So they find Now York a city big enough and 
 Bufi&ciently cosmopolitan [these are Mr. Wong's 
 words.— Rep.] for them to stay here without at- 
 tention being attracted to their dress and man- 
 ners. They are treated better here, and t;ct 
 
 more even justice when trouble arises, than in 
 any other city. They now number fully 5,000 in 
 New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City, and count- 
 ing in all the suburbs there are about 7,000. 
 They have 500 laundries, and there are 400 or 
 500 cigarmakers, 200 to 300 sailors, and a large 
 fioatmg population of gamblers and others who 
 do not earn their living, and who, I suppose, 
 are, in America, to be called gentlemen. Among 
 them all are fifty or sixty American citizens, but 
 very few Christians.'' 
 
 " They have no churches? " 
 
 "No; but in all houses where several are 
 gathered together, and in the stores and more 
 or less public places, they set up their altars. 
 Every such establishment has its ' holy place," 
 usually opposite or juot at the side of the main 
 entrance. This holy place consists of a picture 
 put up against the wall, with a table or stand 
 beneath it, on which are put the lighted tapers, 
 the burning of which is part of the ceremony of 
 worship. The picture is in nearly every case a 
 
 Eortrait of Owen Goon. He was a warrior who 
 rought together the one hundred tribes that 
 now form Chiua. In him were blended good- 
 ness, grandeur of character, humanity, generos- 
 ity, piety, and all the qualities we should admire. 
 I'm going to write a book about him. The China- 
 men worship him by lighting tapers, and then 
 with bended heads offering up in silence the 
 prayers that spring from their hearts. Some do 
 this every day, but most do so only on hohdays. 
 " There's one curious thing that you would 
 never suspect about them," he added; " they 
 are delighted with the action of the Government 
 in prohibiting further Chinese immigration in 
 this country. They would not read my paper if 
 I should discuss that unjust measure upon phil- 
 osophical, humane, or political grounds. They 
 do not want any more of their countrymen to 
 come. They are making money and monopolize 
 the laundry business, and newcomers would cut 
 into their profits." 
 
 Mr. Wong, while arranging his office affairs in 
 order to go out, produced a counting machine, 
 such as one sees wherever a Chinaman is set up 
 in business. It differs from the abacus, once 
 used in American primary schools, in that the 
 frame is divided by a wooden crosspiece. On 
 each wire there are five buttons above and five 
 below the crosspiece. Below the crosspiece the 
 wires represent units, tens, hundreds, thousands, 
 tens of thousands, etc. Above the crosspiece 
 the strings of buttons represent 58, 10s, lOOs, 
 1,000h, etc. There are five buttons on each half 
 of each wire. The manner in which the swan 
 puu, as they call it, is used is very simple. To 
 count i and 1, they put up four beads on the first 
 wire below the crosspiece, and then the remain- 
 ing one bead on the same wire above the cross- 
 piece; but to count 8, they put one of the 5s on 
 the upper wire down to the crosspiece and push 
 up three ot the Is. To count 11, tuey push down 
 one of the lOs on the second wire and push up 
 one of the Is on the first wire. Mr. Wong under- 
 stands our methods ot calculation thoroughly, 
 but can calculate more quickly with the swan 
 pun than with a pencil and paper. The reporter, 
 who is rather quick at figures, was unable to add 
 or subtract sums of three or four figures as 
 quickly on paper as the Chinaman did the same 
 sums with the beads. Mr. Wong says that edu- 
 cated Chinamen are able to perform calculations 
 in algebra on the upper set of beads. 
 
 In Mott Street ho explained that the red and 
 yellow papers pasted on some of the walls are 
 advertisements similar to the "help wanted" 
 and "situations wanted" notices in American 
 papers. The street signs simply bear the names 
 of the storekeepers, or members of partnership 
 firms. He took the reporter in a store, and the 
 instant ho entered there arose a cackling not un- 
 like that which would follow the arrival of a 
 sudden addition to a flock of ducks. It came 
 from the mouths of two or three Chinamen on | 
 stools between the counters and two or three i 
 men lolling across the counters. Mr. Wong 
 pulled out a stool and bade the reporter sit down, 
 saying that it was not the lashion in Chiua for a 
 man to introduce a companion to whatever 
 friends of his they chance to meet. Presently 
 the talking ceased, the men on the stools humped 
 themselves up with their knees and chins closer 
 together than if they were shoemakers hard at 
 work, and one fell to' smoking a pipe with a stem 
 half AS thick as a lamp-post, another closed his 
 eyes and dreamed, a tuird stared at the report- 
 er, and one of the men behind the counter strug- 
 gled with a pair of scales consisting of a piece of 
 wood like a walking stick, with a tray at one end, 
 a weight dangling at the other end, and three 
 loops above the stick. Mr. Wong explained that 
 to weigh light things yon hold the loop nearest 
 the tray; to weigh middling heavy things you 
 
 hold the middle loop, and to weigh very heavy 
 things you hold the third loop, which is in the 
 middle of the stick. He said the man was 
 weighing drugs. He added that the rows upon 
 rows of box-hke drawers on one side of the store 
 were all full of drugs. 
 
 " We don't believe in American doctors or 
 American drugs," said he; " we bring our own 
 with us. There's a doctor in this store and a 
 doctor across the way in Tom Lee's, and there 
 are very many more. They do not have diplo- 
 mas, as your doctors do. Experience is the only 
 diploma a doctor gets in China." 
 
 He showed the reporter what the store con- 
 tained—piles of bags of rice from China, a bar- 
 rel of ginger root, two barrels of fishes as big as 
 the average flounder packed in oil in an inner 
 barrel of zinc like sardines, barrels of strange 
 nuts, barrels of dried fish, dried eels, and very 
 fat and wholesome-looking dried and pressed 
 ducks, boxes of American soap, bottles of Chi- 
 nese wine and brandy protected by woven straw 
 like Florence flasks, a barrel of dried mush- 
 rooms, dried eels, packages of beautiful blue 
 silk Chmese shoes and of common white cloth 
 shoes of the same shape, bundles of tlje curious 
 frocks the Chineso wear, stacks of delicate tea 
 cups, teapots, wine flasks, funny brass lamps, 
 and a pile of counting machines. Everything 
 was marked with Chinese letters — even a box of 
 American matches was covered with them. The 
 storekeeper's book, inkpot, and sharpened writ- 
 ing stick were at his elbow. In each of the wall 
 cases was a square card covered with letters, 
 telling the cost and selling price of everything in 
 that case. The Chinese have no numerals. Tne 
 reporter saw a barrel of chunky bamboo eticKs 
 two feet long. Mr. Wong hesitated, and thun 
 said they were to smoke tobacco in. Four Cni- 
 namen, one after the other, then eagerly repeat- 
 ed the word "t'backy." The reporter thought, 
 from the appearance of the sticks and the man- 
 ner of the Chinamen, that they were for opium 
 pipes. 
 
 Mr. Wong took the reporter up-stairs to an- 
 other store, in what was once the iVont parlor of 
 a Sixth ward mansion. It was apparently a 
 drinking, or perhaps what the Germans wo'uld 
 call a delicatessen store. There were queer bat- 
 tles and jars on the shelves, and barrels of ums 
 under the counter. From behind the sluling 
 doors separating the store from the back parlor 
 came the rattle of ivory aud the excited voices of 
 gamblers. The storekeeper's face looked a little 
 like the visage of a pious monk, and a little like 
 the chubby countenance of a baby. There was 
 a holy plaKie opposite the door, and the picture 
 of the well-feu and terrible-eyed Owen Goon 
 was accompanied by those of his ferocious negi'o 
 sword bearer, the first darkey ever seen in China, 
 and his effeminate, wax-like private secretary. 
 There were no tapers in front of the picture, but 
 the baby-faced proprietor had thousands of punk 
 joss sticks for sale, and a number ot tiny hand- 
 painted candles as well. 
 
 "There," said Mr. Wong, pointing to three 
 broad bannerets of light red and light blue, with 
 Chinese characters painted on them in a single 
 column, " those in China take the place of the 
 pictures you Americans are so fond of display- 
 ing in your houses. Pictures take a back place 
 when a family is able to procure such things as 
 those. Fine lettering is held in almost the high- 
 est esteem, and men who can paint Chinese let- 
 ters beautifully are able to earn splendid wages. 
 There is a story of one who, becoming bankrupt, 
 pawned one painting of a few letters for $2,000. 
 Those letters spell something, but that doesn't 
 matter. It's tne beauty ot the letters that is 
 
 firized— not the sentiment. That one you're 
 ooking at reads, ' The beautiful birds in their 
 glory, resembhng the fishes and all their kind 
 m the sea.' That big black letter on that red 
 paper pasted on the wall reads, ' Prosperity.' 
 That picture near the holy place is the portrait 
 of tlie God of Good Fortune. Let's go some 
 other place." 
 
 Sounds of revelry and the flat, rank smell of 
 opium smoke came up from the cellars that were 
 passed. The next store visited was peculiar 
 only because it contained, in addition to gro- 
 ceries, hundreds of tawny, yellow-covered pam- 
 phlets. Mr. Wong said they were almanacs. 
 Perceiving that they contained long chapters of 
 solid type, the reporter asked: 
 " What kind of almanacs ? " 
 " To tell lucky and unlucky days, and such 
 things," said Mr. Wong. 
 
 'They were dream books, the natural outgrowth 
 of a society so steeped in gambling as that is. 
 Jlr. Wong looked at others, and pronounced 
 them drug or prescription books. The store 
 contained a large stock of drugs. The reporter 
 wanted to buy some slippers, consisting of leather 
 
THE GRKAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 27 
 
 solos lined with red cotton and straw uppers, 
 that shone like eold. 
 
 " Let me do the buying," said Mr. Wong. So 
 * lie provolted a tumult of gutturals that resulted 
 in the payment of 35 cents. " They would charge 
 vou a great deal more," ho said. 
 
 Tom Loo, who, though no longer a deputy 
 sheriff, remain;! a Chrmtian, a Republican, and 
 a wealthy niau, has moved his family into an 
 up-town dwelling, and has established a rostau- 
 laut where he used to live, over his cigar store. 
 After the San Francisco fashion, ho has built a 
 balcony out from the second-story windows, 
 roofed it over, and h-mg big and gorgeous lan- 
 toi-ns from the roof. Mr. Wong led the reporter 
 up a pair of ladder-like stairs, such as Caucas- 
 iaiis mount into their garrets by, into a big, dirty, 
 liot room. A few pine tables and rough chairs 
 and stools stood about, and through an open 
 door were seen I)lue-blou8od Celestials pottering 
 with kettles, chopping blocks, and Hour, and 
 diiucing attendance upon a great range, over 
 which was suspended a huge, smoke-becrimmed, 
 inverted iron funnel, evidently designed to carry 
 off the smells that, nevertheless, filled the next 
 room. Mr. Wong had what appeared to be a 
 violent altercation with the menials in the kitchen, 
 though it proved that he was merely eiplaiuing 
 that he wanted a dinner for himself and the re- 
 porter. 
 
 The dinner began with a plate of poanut candy, 
 icod fruit cake, a plate of biscuits stuffed with 
 baked nuts, and some very delicious tea — the 
 leaves being put in the cups and the tea being 
 brewed by pouring hot water on the leaves and 
 fitting saucers over the cups. Chop sticks, which 
 are merely ebony sticks twice as long and half 
 as thick again as lead pencils, were scived in 
 place of knives and forks. They are very easily 
 iiiiinagcd, and with a cbina scoop, such as the 
 Cliinamen use in place of a spoon, and chopped 
 food, which is tlio rule, a Caucasian can eat as 
 rapidly and easily with them as with a knife and 
 fork. Three dishes, that seemed to be as many 
 varieties ot Irish stew, were next brought on. 
 One stew was principally made up of beef, young 
 bamboo, potatoes, and bay leaves; another ap- 
 peared to be chicken, mushrooms, and boiled 
 onions. The third had boiled duck and rock 
 moss for its principal constituents. The duck 
 and chicken had been chopped up, skin, bones, 
 and all, and each of the stews floated in very 
 rich and greasy gravy. Next came a dish of 
 boiled flsh, chopped "up, skin, bones, and all, 
 and mixed with pickled onions. 
 
 The grease, the rich pastry, the candy, and 
 thi! nuts led the reporter to suspect that he had 
 discovered why drugs in great quantities are dis- 
 played in all the stores. 
 
 " Do the Chinese ever have dyspepsia? " 
 
 " All of them do,"' said Mr. Wong. 
 
 AVine of a thousand fruits was served in tea- 
 cups aa small as egg-shells, out of a beautiful 
 bric-a-brac flask. It was stronger than Roose- 
 velt Street whiskey, and seemed to ignite on its 
 way down the throat. The first cup of tea was 
 too strong, the second brewing was too strong, 
 the third was strong, the fourth was just right, 
 and the seventh was pleasant. Nothing more 
 was brought to the table, but in the four bowls 
 was food for twenty persons. A saucer of sooy 
 — a condiment, like Worcestershire sauce, but 
 very salt— was recommended as an aid to diges- 
 tion, and a curious pickle of dried fruits, spices, 
 peopers, and vinegar appeared with the fish. 
 
 Other Chinamen sat at the other tables and ate 
 in silence. Mr. Wong said that it is a rule that 
 those who dine must not jest, curse, or, in fact, 
 talk much at all, until the close of the meal. 
 Chinamen who can afford it spend four or five 
 hours at the table. After meals they partake of 
 strong drink, and accompany it by a singular 
 pastime. One diner shouts to his vis-a-vis any 
 number that occurs to him, at the same instant 
 holding up a number of fingers, the number of 
 fingers differing from the number spoken. For 
 instance, he calls out "six" and holds up three 
 fingers. The other man at the same instant goes 
 through the same formula, holding up a chance 
 number of fingers, and calling out whatever 
 number under ten occurs to him. K either has 
 happened to name the sum of the two sets of 
 fingers thus held up he loses, and pays for the 
 other one's drink. Thus, if he calls ten and 
 holds up two fingers, and the other calls five and 
 •exhibits three fingers, the second man wins, and 
 the first one drinks at his expense. Both must 
 speak at once, however, an instant before the 
 fingers are shown. Mr. Wong declares that 
 there is in this game the very essence of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 In Tom Lee's other store, after the dinner, the 
 reporter saw tea costing various prices between 
 eighty cents and $7 a pound, and put up in all 
 
 sorts of gorgeous packages. There were also 
 Chinese banjos and fiddles hung in the show 
 cases, and strings of Chinese coins, boxes of 
 delicate scales for weighing gold, stores of moss 
 and bamboo for Mott Street tables, and rice, 
 ginger, and all the other Chinese edibles noted 
 in the other stores were heaped upon the floor 
 and on the shelves. Mr. Wong pointed out 
 some curious little white brushes suspended be- 
 tween and attached to two thin blades of whale- 
 bone. He said they wore tooth brushes and 
 mouth washers, and added tliat every China- 
 man, every morning before he eats or speaks to 
 anybody, brushes his teeth, rinses his mouth, 
 and then with the whalebones scrapes his tongue 
 clean. Mr. Wong said that his fellow country- 
 men are also especially particular with their 
 feet, and wash them every night before retiring. 
 " Mott Street is a wicked place," said Mr. 
 Wong, in bidding his guest good-by. " It is the 
 headquarters of the Chinese, and they flock to it 
 whenever they get a chance; but when they come 
 to it they are met bv a band of gamblers, and 
 even worse people, who cause them to part with 
 all their savings in no time. There is no use 
 appointing a Chinese policeman, as has been 
 proposed. No Chinaman would take the post, 
 and if one should, he would be killed, so jealous 
 would the others be. But there really ought to 
 be in Mott Street some Chinaman secretly paid 
 to help the police in ridding the colony of those 
 who prey upon it." 
 
 PEOPLE WHO LIVE BY THEIR WITS. 
 
 There isn't a city in the world more densely 
 infested with the social parasites called" card 
 fortune tellers " than New York. 
 
 Their style, their names, residences and char- 
 acteristics generally have changed since poor 
 Doesticks wrote his " Witches," but they exist 
 in suflicient quantities to fleece the rural and the 
 unwary generally, to trade upon the weak spots 
 in human nature, which they have studied as 
 cloHcly aa Balzac, and to make for themselves a 
 very decent living. 
 
 Take up a morning paper, the Herald espe- 
 cially. Under the heads of "Astrology" and 
 " Fortune Telling " j'ou will find scores of ad- 
 vertisements, in which the advertisers profess 
 to cast your horoscope, to show you your future 
 wife or husband, and all for "the remarkably 
 cheap sum of fifty cents, ladies a quarter. 
 
 I could never understand the economical dis- 
 tinction made in favor of the ladies. It is prob- 
 ably based on the fact that they believe a great 
 deal more readily than the others, and that they 
 are more frequent customers. 
 
 I am sure tnat if I didn't like the first twenty- 
 five cent fortune told me I would go again and 
 to another shop. By perseverance and a liberal 
 outlay of quarters it is possible to strike a 
 " hummer." 
 
 It seems strange that these men and women 
 should flourish in an age so enUghtened as this 
 and in a city which possesses the focussed civ- 
 ilization of the day, but it is true. I know per- 
 sonally one woman and one man who do nothing 
 else for a living, and who have confided in me 
 that customers are never scarce. But what is 
 the use of speculating on such idiosyncrasies of 
 fifty and twenty-five cent shrimps when a gilded 
 whale like Commodore Vanderbilt frequently ran 
 his business on the predictions of soothsayers, 
 and was altogether as superstitious as a sailor. 
 
 There are two kinds of the lower class ol for- 
 tune tellers — those who still stick to Egyptian 
 mummery and come the red curtain and" black 
 velvet gown over you, and the other, more mod- 
 ern, whose office is very little different from that 
 of a real estate firm, and who go about the busi- 
 ness in a cold-blooded manner. Both styles take. 
 The hysterical women and servant girls gener- 
 ally prefer the people with the strange names 
 and the outlandish garb. It seems more like 
 the genuine astrological affair, and is certainly 
 more 'or the money. 
 
 There are two or three of these mystery shops 
 in Bleecker Street. The one I know is in Bed- 
 ford Street. I have frequently been a concealed 
 witness of a seance there. 
 
 If it wasn't that these poor wretches actually 
 believe what is told them, that they are so dumb 
 or superstitions that they cannot see that the 
 whole system is conducted on the stale principle 
 of telling every card in the pack after you have 
 become possessed of Ae knowledge of one — if it 
 wasn't for this which makes taking their money 
 a species of revenge wreaked upon them for be- 
 ing so stupid — I could laugh when I am behind 
 the Bedford Street curtains. 
 
 But laughter is impossible in the face of genu- 
 ine tears and the quavcrmg voice in which the 
 
 dead are asked after. When it is a light-headed 
 girl, who is anxious about her future lord, the 
 case is different. 
 
 Mr. Charles Foster is at the head of all fortune 
 tellers in this country. He charges $5, and his 
 Htatemenls are as remarkable and startling, done 
 as they are without any pretence of side-show 
 business, as the drivelliugs of the Bleecker and 
 Bedford Street astrologers are puerile and trans- 
 parent. 
 
 I do not pretend to speak of him critically, and 
 have introduced him simply to make the magic 
 line complete. Ho has always more work than 
 he can attend to, and is especially sought after 
 by ladies. As many carriages have halted at 
 Ins door as ever lined the curb at Grace church, 
 and in many instances the equipages are the 
 same. He gave me a setting once, and I shall 
 never forget what he said to me: 
 
 " You must remember everything I say, young 
 man, because I shall be in a trance, and will 
 retain nothing of what passes from the spirit 
 world to you through me.'' 
 
 Then he took oft" his coat for the day was 
 very warm— lit a good cigar, and began. 
 
 What he told me doesn't matter now. It was 
 nothing to smile at, I can assure you. What I 
 want to do is to call attention to the peculiarities 
 of his trance. 
 
 His cigar happening to go out ho lit it with a 
 fresh match, anu then went on. Some one rapped 
 at the door. He excused himself and attended 
 to the business, which 1 think had something to 
 do with dinner, after which we descended into 
 Hades again. AH this in a trancel I think he 
 was still in the trance when he produced a de- 
 canter and gave me as good a glass of brandy as 
 I ever tasted. 
 
 I can understand the success of such people, 
 but when it comes to the shuffling of a greasy 
 pick of cards by the coarse, red, fat fingers of 
 an east-side seress, who ekes out her financial 
 requirements by taking in washing, perhaps, I 
 am willing to confess that I am puzzled; but as 
 long as people won't sit thii teen at table, or un- 
 dertake a new business on Fridiiy, the half and 
 quarter dollars will continue to flow into the 
 purses of these operators from those of their 
 dupes. 
 
 I could explain all the card swindles, spirit 
 photographing and all the rest of the nonsense, 
 if it was at all necessary. It isn't. The peculiar 
 class making up the patrons of the astrologers 
 are beyond the reach of reason. They have Na- 
 poleon's dream book in the.r bureau drawers, 
 and they are as much sunk in superstition of the 
 absurd sort as are the Vaudoo negroes of New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Another source of revenue for those who are 
 smart enough to coin money out of the super- 
 natural is the spiritualistic seance. The reader 
 will at first think I mean shows given in halls by 
 regular professors. Not at all. The people to 
 whom I refer are ordinary citizens in the hum- 
 bler classes, who have discovered suddenly that 
 they are " mediums." As soon as it is positive- 
 ly estabhshed that an Indian maiden in the spirit 
 land has selected them as a speaking trumpet, 
 then the vocation in which they are engaged is 
 dropped, and all their resources are turned to- 
 ward a cabinet show. 
 
 I have been to many, but the one in Grand 
 Street, run by a Mrs. Wilson, I think, is perhaps 
 just the biggest fraud ot them all. iou pay 
 twenty-five cents to sit on a hard chair, between 
 two long-haired disciples, and you are expected 
 to believe that Mrs. Wilson, who disappeared in 
 the cabinet, is still tied to her chair, and that 
 the very hideous-looking gentleman, with the 
 black beard, who tells us through the opening 
 in the door how he was drowned in Lake Michi- 
 gan forty years ago, is really " Uncle Billy," and 
 not Mrs. Wilson with a mask and whiskers. 
 
 If there is any movement on the part of one of 
 the doubters to'get at Uncle Billy, he is immedi- 
 ately squelched, and if the spirit of criticism is 
 too active, why the husband of the " medium," 
 or some one else, declares that the spirit* can- 
 not work save where there is perfect harmony. 
 
 That means translated — " we cannot continue 
 to impose upon you unless you sit perfectly stdl 
 and believe all we say." 
 
 W'ednesday and Saturday evening these se- 
 ances flourish all over the city. The price is 
 generally twenty-five cents, butthere are cheap- 
 er entertainments for ten cents. An inferior kind 
 of angel is used at these. 
 
 I know a man and his wife, she being the " me- 
 dium," who give cabinet entertainments at the 
 houses of the rich, just as the " Punch and Judy " 
 man does, and for that matter just as Sarah 
 Bernhardt recites or models before a drawing- 
 room audience, or Nilaaon sings, lor so much a, 
 night. 
 
28 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 No one in the Fifth Avenue parlor ia rude 
 enough to interfere, the parlor is alwaya big 
 enough to mak« the experiment a tolerably safe 
 one, and the whole affair is only looked upon as 
 an agreeable way of passing the time. A 
 magic lantern is just as good. 
 
 It is the cosmopolitan character of New York 
 City which makes all this aberration, if I can so 
 define it, possible. We have every religion un- 
 
 - der the sun practiced in Gotham. The Koran 
 and Veda books are read here as regularly as 
 in the Orient, and I have seen with my civilized 
 and Christian optics the temple of Joss in the 
 Chinese quarter at a time when a Chatham 
 
 - Square cigar merchant was at his prayers. 
 
 I am not particularly acquainted with all its 
 ramifications, but the Chinese reUgion contains 
 the act of prayer reduced to a beautiful system. 
 They are painted on tire-cracker paper, and are 
 Bold.by a man who makes prayers a specialty. 
 When you feel a little wicked, or are conscious 
 of any sensation which calls for prayer as an an- 
 tidote, you go to the Joss church in Baxter 
 Street, and burn one or two of these slips. Cer- 
 tainly nothing could be more simple. 
 
 The Lascars also have their club room in that 
 locality, and observe faithfully their reUgious 
 devotions. There are by no means as many of 
 them in the city as there are Chinese, but there 
 are still enough to make a colony. 
 
 Traveling in Baxter Street takes me " Five 
 Points " out of my way. 
 
 Let us return. The most magnificent attempt 
 ever made to introduce a magico-religion into 
 this peculiarly susceptible town was that made 
 by Mme. Blavatsky and Col. Olcott. 
 
 These two are now m India, riding around on 
 elephants and otherwise disporting themselves. 
 The madame had elegant apartments np-town, 
 fitted up with gloomy magnificence. She used 
 to hold seances there, and succeeded so well in 
 making converts to the religion of Buddha that 
 I believe she was enabled to form a regular 
 . church or society previous to her departure. As 
 expounded by Mme. Blavatsky there is some- 
 thing solid and attractive in the Buddha faith, 
 and if I should change, it would be to become 
 one of her disciples. 
 
 Do not be surprised then if 1 should come down 
 to the office sometime, wearing a black skull-cap, 
 I and a chintz night-gown with snakes worked all 
 over it. 
 
 Why, you naturally ask, would so conservative 
 it man as our Mr. Fowler, give up the faith of his 
 childhood ? 
 
 I'll tell you. All the other religions promise 
 no felicity of an absorbing nature until after 
 death. If Mme. Blavatsky has been correctly 
 reported she has made a wonderful discovery, 
 the utilization of which means fortune in this 
 world in a very little while. 
 
 The secret is this — she can dematerialize arti- 
 cles, walk them to some objective point, and then 
 by simple exercise of will, it being all the same 
 whether she is one or a thousand miles away, 
 8ho can cause the object to assume its original 
 form and value. 
 
 Mind that, its value, for therein lies the ap- 
 plication. 
 
 So far she has succeeded, so the story runs, 
 with nothing but kid gloves. That's enough for 
 me. Mme. Blavatsky is said to have sent apair 
 by the magic method from Bombay to Lon- 
 don. 
 
 When I have learned to do this, and perhaps 
 if I am a good Buddhist I may be able to handle 
 lace and silk umbrellas also, 1 will have no need 
 to consult any of the fortune tellers. 
 
 I will open a shop in Paris, and one in New 
 York. By the use of my supernatural power I'll 
 send enough kid gloves over hero at Paris prices 
 to break the market; a sufficient quantity of silk 
 ^umbrellas to enable every young man to possess 
 an elegant article to " put up," and lace to that 
 lextent that every back kitchen will have some 
 brand floating at the windows. 
 
 In the meantime the custom house officials 
 will gradually commit suicide one by one, or go 
 to the asylum for the hopelessly insane. 
 
 The only cloud in the skv is that I don't believe 
 the madame can do anything of the sort. She 
 is a fraud, just as the Bleecker Street women 
 are, the only difference being her noble birth, 
 her magnificent style, and her intellect. — From 
 " OUmpses of Gotham," published by RicTiard K. 
 Fox. 
 
 pression of countenance, a leer in the eye, a 
 drooping of the corners of the mouth, or some 
 other mark of a villainous hfe. But there are 
 some exceptions. A face is found here and there 
 in the collection which might be taken for that of 
 a poet or a clergyman. One of the portraits, in 
 fact, bears a striking resemblance to that of Ed- 
 gar Allen Poe. Some of the photographs of the 
 most notorious criminals are hung near the door 
 in order that the detectives as they pass in and 
 out may become familiar with them and be able 
 to pick out the faces in a crowd. 
 
 "Each photograph has a history attached to 
 it," said Inspector Byrnes. "The age of the 
 criminal is given, his height, color of eyes, hair 
 and beard, and the class of crime he "has en- 
 gaged in so far as has become known to the po- 
 lice. An exaimnation is made also for birth- 
 marks or scars on his body." 
 
 " Are pictures taken only of criminals whoUve 
 in this city?" 
 
 " When we hear of a noted thief or forger in 
 any part of the country we send for his photo- 
 graph in order that we may know him, should 
 he come to New York, and be able to keep an 
 eye out for him. Frequently by this means men 
 are caught by our detectives who have escaped 
 the vigilance of the police in the places where 
 they have committed crime." 
 
 " Is the photograph of every thief who falls 
 into your hands taken ? " 
 
 " No, the gallery includes only the photo- 
 graphs of professionals." 
 
 NEW YORK'S SOaUES' GALLERY. 
 
 The photographs in the Kogues' Gallery at the 
 Police Central Office possess a psychological in- 
 terest. Usually the face of the rogue is an in- 
 dex to his character, there being a sinister ex- 
 
 THE THEATRES AND THE THEATRICAL 
 PROFESSION. 
 
 NewYobkIs the headmiarters of the theatrical 
 profession in the United States. The inhabitants 
 of Gotham are lavish in their patronage of music 
 and the drama, and places of amusement are 
 numbered by the score. All the leading travel- 
 ing combinations are made up here, and, in 
 order to meet with favor in other cities and 
 towns, a play must first have been a success in 
 New York. The stereotyped phrase, "The 
 Great New York Success," will be found upon 
 nearly every play-bill displayed in other cities. 
 
 The leading " stock " theatres of New York are 
 the Madison Square, Union Square, Wallack's 
 and Daly's. Each of these employs a regular 
 company of first-class artists, and during the 
 dramatic season they produce many original 
 plays, or those specially secured Irom foreign 
 authors. The Union Square has been particu- 
 larly fortunate in the production of successful 
 plays, and is a favorite resort of play-goers. Its 
 first great success was Boucicanlts " Led As- 
 tray, which attained a run unprecedented at that 
 time, and was followed by " The Two Orphans," 
 " Rose Michel," " A Celebrated Case," " The 
 Danicheffs," " Daniel Kochat,""Tho Banker's 
 Daughter," "The Lights o' London," and 
 others. The Madison Square is one of the most 
 fashionable of modern theatres. Ita first pro- 
 duction, that of " Hazel Kirke," which was 
 played consecutively for more than a year, was 
 a phenomenal success, and " The Professor," 
 "Esmeralda" and "Young Mrs. Winthrop" 
 met with almost as much favor. Wallack's, for 
 a quarter of a century, has been known as the 
 homo of refined comedy in New York, and the 
 new up-towu play-house of Mr. Wallack is one of 
 the most elegant in the city. 
 
 Of other theatres, the Standard, Bijou Opera 
 House and Metropolitan Casino are devoted 
 mainly to the production of the new comic 
 operas, which all at once rose to enormous popu- 
 larity. At Booth's most of the Shakespearean 
 revivals have been given, but this house, after 
 many years struggle against adversity, has at 
 length "been demolished. Haverly's, the Fifth 
 Avenue, the Grand Opera House and the Wind- 
 sor are what is known as " Star " theatres — that 
 18, they employ combinations with the leading 
 actors representing the same and not regular 
 companies. At the Academy of Music and Ab- 
 bey's new Opera House the Italian operas are 
 given. Tony Pastor's, Harrigau and Hart's and 
 Harrv Miner's are the leading variety theatres, 
 and of these there are many lesser lights. 
 
 Union Square is a favorite rendezvous of New 
 York actors, and upon the pavements here, like- 
 wise m the various cafes and saloons in the 
 vicinity, scores of actors may be seen upon any 
 pleasant afternoon dunng the theatrical season. 
 The Thespians lead a life of pleasure, and have 
 their vices, yet no class of our population are 
 more generous or ready to help those in adversi- 
 ty. With some few exceptions, actors are not 
 recognized in New York society, but they lead a 
 happy and careless life among themselves, and 
 
 apparently care nothing, beyond an appreciation 
 of their art, for the pubhc in general and society 
 in particular. 
 
 Booth is the favorite tragedian, by virtue of his 
 Ttonderful talents, and Barrett and McCullough 
 are likewise well patronized. Lester Wallack, 
 the Florences, Robaon and Crane, Dion Bouci- 
 cault and John E. Owens are the most popular 
 comedians, while Lillian Russell and Catherine 
 Lewis are the favorite representatives of light 
 opera. Clara Morris is the best emotional ac- 
 tress that New York has ever seen, but being in 
 poor health, she rarely appears now. Miss Mary 
 Anderson is a great favorite in her particular 
 line, though not more so in New York probably 
 than elsewhere. A g»od actor or actress can 
 command from $200 to $500 per week. At those 
 theatres m New York where stock companies are 
 maintained, the leading man and leading lady 
 usually receive about $200 per week each; sub- 
 ordinates are paid from $60 to a $100, and even 
 those who assume the minor characters, draw 
 salaries of $25 to $50. Adelina Patti, during her 
 last visit to America, received the enormous 
 salary of $5,000 for every performance, yet so 
 g^eat is the desire to see and hear this celebrated 
 vocalist, her manager made money upon the 
 speculation. Edwin Booth's terms are $500 per 
 night, and first-class actors, no matter in what 
 particular line, are invariably well paid. Alto- 
 gether the Thespians have no reason to complain 
 of their success financially, yet few die rich, for 
 their money is usually spent lavishly. Among 
 the most well-to-do are John E. Owens, who 
 owns a large plantation in the South, and is said 
 to be the richest actoi in America, Joseph Jeffer- 
 son and Wilham J. Florence. These men are all 
 moderately rich. E. A. Sothem left a substan- 
 tial fortune, but our actors, like our Presidents, 
 as a rule die poor. Mrs. Langtry is said to have 
 $100,000 in bank, the net proceeds of her visit to 
 America, which would indicate that the Jersey 
 Lily believes in laying up for a rainy day. Her 
 popularity, however, is waning, and it is doubt- 
 ful il another season would yield like results. 
 
 NEW YORE TENEMENT HOUSES. 
 
 The sanitary inspection of the overcrowded 
 tenement houses, says a New York letter, is di«- 
 closing a condition of things that may well mak& 
 even a New Yorker, familiar as he may be with 
 those human hives, stand aghast, and ask. Are 
 we not after all but half civilized ? For instance, 
 one honse in Mulberry Street is reported as con- 
 taming 171 occupants, thirty-six of whom are 
 children; in many of the rooms persons were 
 found stretched oiit on the floor, without bed or 
 bedding. These were for the most part Italians. 
 Another Mulberry Street rookery contains 112 
 apartments, occupied by 122 persons: a third, 
 fifty-eight apartments, occupied by 112 persons; 
 a iourth has thirty-eight rooms, occupied by 130 
 persons; a fifth, thirty-eight rooms, occupied by- 
 eighty persons, and in the rear, hedged in from 
 light and air, is a rear building occupied by 
 forty-seven persons. Down in Cherry and Water ^ 
 Streets there are some tenements under the roof 
 of which may be found representatives of almost 
 all the nationalities of Christendom, and some 
 outsideof Christendom— Chinese, Italians, Span- 
 iards, French, Portuguese, Scandinavians, Irish, 
 Germans, and here and there an Afncan. In 
 Baxter Street there are places where more than 
 300 of the people are huddled together, in utter 
 defiance of the laws of health. The inspectors 
 appear to think it a miracle that a pestilence has 
 not broken out in these dens long before this, 
 and as for trying to improve their condition, the 
 thing, we are told, would seem to be out of the 
 question. The only remedy is to stop building 
 houses of this description, and this can only bo 
 accomphshed by stringent legislation, to which, 
 of course, the owners of all such property are 
 resolutely opposed. The pubhc health in such 
 cases, however, should be superior to all consid- 
 erations of personal or private interest. 
 
 The city of New York contains 425 churches 
 The cost of some of them is over $1,000,000. If 
 their average cost is but $50,000 each, the total 
 cost is $21,250,000. If the sittings average 50O 
 each, the total number of persons who can bo 
 accommodated is 250,000. 
 
 Asioso the New York lawyers it is said that 
 David Dudley Field's income is $375,000; Samuel 
 G. Courtney's, $200,000; Brown, Hall & Vander- 
 pool's, $225,000: E. W. Stoughton's, $200,000; and 
 Wm. M. Evarts's, $1.50,000. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 29 
 
 STREET CHABACTEBS. 
 
 This great city of New York in a worlil in it- 
 ifU. It embracoB witliiii its broad boundarieB 
 loarly every phase of life known among civi- 
 ized men. Upon its streets one may see reprc- 
 /3uted almost every nationality and every kind 
 
 >imimimii:!i:!iiipmBwii;iii:iiiiii!'!iilii!ilillIl| 
 
 SWEET OKANOE CART. 
 
 of business. The Jew elbows the German, the 
 Prussian jostles the Pole, the Irishman fights 
 ^vith the Negro, the Englishman treads on 
 Brother Jonathan's toes, the Frenchman nudges 
 the Swede, the Italian sings with the Swiss, etc. 
 Broadway npon any day is a stndy, and all the 
 other streets furnish curious scenes. 
 
 THE S\S'EET OBANGE CABTS. 
 
 One of the most picturesque scenes at night is 
 the orange stands at the street corners. Some- 
 times these are simply tables set upon the edge 
 of the sidewalk, ov just ofif it in the street. 
 More frequently they are four-wheeled carts, 
 which are loaded at the Fulton or the Washing- 
 ton markets early in the morning and hauled to 
 their respective positions before the tide of 
 people begins to move towards the stores and 
 shops. In the evening these carts are lighted 
 by alcohol lamps, as you see in the picture, and 
 are attended by a man or a woman — sometimes 
 by both, who, in time of oranges, shout at the 
 top of their voices, "Here's your nice sweet 
 oranges, eight for a quarter," or some other 
 rate, depending upon the supply. 
 
 THE OLD HAT MAN. 
 
 I often saunter down Broadway in the fresh 
 ynorning, keeping, these hot days, on the shady 
 side, and I rarely fail to meet the " old hat 
 man " the artist has given us in the picture. 
 Usually he has an old, uncouth hat on his head, 
 set there as jauntilv as if he were a boy of six- 
 teen years. But tins old fellow is never seen 
 twice" with the same hat on, and he has from two 
 to half a score of all sorts slung over his 
 shoulder, or carries three or four in one hand, 
 holding on to the rim of each. He starts out 
 early in the morning; be visits the offices and 
 stores soon after they are opened, and finds the 
 dapper young clerk reading the morning papers. 
 They are in good humor. Along comes the old 
 hat man, who bawls out at the top of his voice, 
 "Any auld bats? Auld hats! Hats!" Some- 
 Hmes he deals in boots also. A young clerk, 
 who has a new style of hat on his head, and 
 an old style stored ou a shelf, calls him 
 in, produces the old style, and begins to chaff 
 the old man, who is ready with cute answers 
 and for a bargain. And as he goes out of the 
 door he sends back a shaft of humor that turns 
 the laugh upon his customer. Up the street he 
 goes crying, " Auld hats! Any auld h-a-t-s ? " 
 
 THE OLD BOOK-WOBU. 
 
 I like to lounge about the " old book " stores 
 on Beeknian, Nassau, and Fulton Streets. 
 There are a great many curiouH things found 
 there. I sat, one day, looking and thinking of 
 these wonderful liistXjrieH, when my attention 
 was arrested by the old book-worm you see in 
 the illustration— books under his arm, in hi« 
 hand, and manuscript in his pocket. The hot 
 sun beat down npon his green umbrella as ho 
 leaned against the sidewalK stand on which tho 
 books were arranged. The throng of people of 
 ill sorts rushed past him, but he did not heed 
 them, nor they him. 
 
 THE ITALIAN I>L\OE VENDEH. 
 
 "Faith, an' he's a hiv of a bishop, pace be to 
 his sowl! " I turned to see whence this bene- 
 diction came, and saw an image vender laden 
 with his wares presenting the image of a bishop 
 to the Bridget you see in the picture. Cute 
 fellows are these imago venders. They study 
 your eyes while you study their handiwork. 
 
 THE BAQ PICKER AT HIS TRADE. 
 
 Of all the wandering lives lived in this gi'eat 
 city, that of the rag picker seems to possess 
 least attraction. The rag pickers are very 
 numerous. They are seen at all hours of tho 
 day in some localities, but follow their calling 
 most eagerly in the early morning, and thence 
 on until noon. Sometimes it is an old man, as 
 you see in tho picture. An old bag slung across 
 the shoulder, and a little hand basket carried by 
 the side, with sometimes an iron poker, crooked 
 at one end, comprise his implements of trade. 
 Every half-burned bit ot coal is carefully put in- 
 to the basket, while the bag receives each piece 
 of cloth or paper. It is dirty work; but the bas- 
 ket of coals will warm the rag picker's cold room, 
 and the bag of " paper rags^' will sell for a few 
 pennies to buy bread; and so the worker patient- 
 ly toils on. 
 
 THE YOUNG SIDEWALK OBCHE8TKA. 
 
 The youthful musicians — wide awake, indus- 
 trious, as sensitive as mercury to the condition 
 of the social atmosphere in which they happen 
 to place themselves. There is one little band 
 much like those you see in the engraving, which 
 has played at my dining-room window at dinner 
 time, all the summer long. The violinist is a 
 short, chubby, open-faced, black-eyed little 
 fellow. That fellow leaning against the fence is 
 of entirely a different type. His flute is played 
 
 SIDEWALK BEFBESHMEMTS. 
 
 The vicinity of City Hall Square abounds m re- 
 freshment Btands, where pies, cakes, candies, 
 coffee, colored lemonade and ice cream, one and 
 all, are dealt out to those who desire, at a very 
 cheap rate. The old women who attend them 
 often acquire email fortunes. The cheapest dish 
 
 THE OLD HAT 1I.\N. 
 
 with the greatest care. The girl playing the 
 harp has a matronly, business air, and seems to 
 thumb the harp strings much as she would knit 
 a stocking. At the comers of crowded streets, 
 at the entrance of saloons, these itinerant bands 
 make music. Their life is not an idle one. 
 
 THE OLD BOOK WOKJI, 
 
 known to the sidewalk refreshment btisiaess is 
 tho penny ice cream. 
 
 THE LITTLE FLOWEB GIRL. 
 
 Now and then, in the great city, we .get a 
 breath of the sweet pure country air, so to speak, 
 when we hear a sweet voice crying " Violets, 
 sir?" It all comes back — the old orchard ou 
 the hillside— and we turn to the little flower 
 girl with a grateful heart, glad to get away from 
 the confusion of this great Babel and to be for 
 only just a brief moment a boy again. So we 
 buy a bunch of the -Nnolets, and in the pauses be- 
 tween the cries of " Violets, sir? " we learn that 
 the flower girl lives somewhere out in the sub- 
 urbs. Most of the flower girls are Germans, 
 and drive quite a thriving trade. Some of the 
 flower girls get their bouquets ready made at the 
 flower stores. These bouquets are the nicest 
 seen on the street. Are there any so sweet, be- 
 cau so suggestive, as the little bunch of vio- 
 lets? 
 
 THE rMBBELL.\. HAN. 
 
 You see him out in a terrible storm, when the 
 paving and sidewalks seem all afloat. You've 
 no idea what rain and mud are untd you set 
 foot in a puddle ot New York mud, in the midst 
 of a New York rain-storm. You can observe 
 "the Umbrella Man " better on a pleasant day. 
 In front of nearly every house his j)eculiar cry 
 rings out, "Parasols to mend? Tjmbrellaa to 
 mend?" It is a strange, monotonous cry, and 
 maybe you fail to catch the words at first. 
 Sometirnes it is really musical, and greets the 
 ear very pleasantly. The man carries his kit of 
 tools under his arm, and is ready for work at 
 once. Generally he carries a large bundle of 
 old ones with him. We cannot tell where he 
 lives, or how, though we often wonder, when we 
 hear his lusty voice calling out so loudly, " Um- 
 brellas to mend ? " 
 
 THE PEA>'rT VENDER. 
 
 The pc-anut venders are perhaps the most 
 numerous of all the sidewalk businesses. Pea- 
 nut stands can be counted by the score in all 
 parts of the city. Often a man and a woman 
 attend one stand, as our artist has repre- 
 sented. The man is often a cripple — either he 
 has lost an arm or a leg — and can support him- 
 self and family in no other way. Tne woman 
 stands with him, not eo much because the sale 
 demands her services also as to help him to and 
 
30 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 fro, and keep him company through the long 
 day. Very dreary the days often are; very cold 
 an& disagreeable. Yet save in the severest 
 storms the peanut venders are at their posts. 
 They seem very patient. The stand shown in 
 our "engraving is not so extensive as many of 
 them are, and more resembles those devoted to a 
 mixed trade made up of chestnuts, hickory nuts, 
 etc. Moat of the exclusive peanut dealers have 
 ■a goodly sized table, divided into two portions, 
 one for the raw and the other lor the baked nuts, 
 •with a sheet-iron arrangenioiit in one end iu 
 •which a spirit lamp or some charcoal i?kept burn- 
 ' ing under a cylinder turned by a crank wherein 
 the nuts are baked, and the whole placed on 
 wheels. The trade never appears lively, yet 
 some of the peanut venders acquire considerable 
 property. 
 
 THE tVASDEHISG JEW. 
 
 Here we have another picture from the sub- 
 urbs. The Jew peddler is not often seen upon 
 the city's crowded streets, but is moie often ob- 
 served plying his trade in the country than any- 
 •where else. The one shown herewith, though, 
 is of the old style, and we portray him more as 
 a reminder of what was than as a picture of what 
 is. He has shoe-strings in his hand, elastics on 
 bis arms, cheap jewelry in his box and in his 
 "pack." The Jews are truly a people of wan- 
 derers. Ever since they were driven from Jeru- 
 salem' 80 many hundreds of years ago, they 
 have been going up and down all over the earth, 
 .and almost always as tradesmen. 
 
 THE BANCO SWINDLE. 
 
 1 EXTBA.CT the following admii'able description 
 •of this dangerous fraud from my old friend's, 
 Phil. Farley, able work on American criminals. 
 It bit« the nail as squarely oil the head as I 
 ■could hope to: 
 
 One ot the most seductive, delusive, and dan- 
 gerous of the games by which the innocent peo- 
 ple are despoiled of their money is the game of 
 Banco. It is the means by which a whole host 
 of sharpers prey upon unsuspecting visitors, 
 and it flourishes in every city in America, 
 though it finds its rankest" luxuriance in New 
 York. 
 
 Banco is so simple in its form, and so appar- 
 ently honest, that it is calculated to deceive even 
 the shrewdest. In reality, it is nothing more or 
 less than the old English pastime of " Eight dice 
 
 and who had become too well known at his old 
 tricks, adopted the game and gave it the finish 
 it possesses to-day. He found it so remunera- 
 tive that he bent his way to New York and 
 opened a " magazine " here. He called his ven- 
 
 THE ITALIAN IMAGE 'N'ESDER. 
 
 cloth." It was introduced into this country about 
 fhe year 1855, improved upon, and baptized 
 Banco. California was the first place in which 
 the game took root, and thence it spread all over 
 the laad. 
 A eporting man who traveled the Mississippi, 
 
 THE BAO FICEEB. 
 
 ture the " Havana Lottery," and it answered to 
 a charm. 
 
 Tlie Banco offices in New York are generally 
 conducted by a firm of two or three, and they 
 employ an army of " ropers-in." These oflfice's 
 are furnished with all the appointments of first- 
 class commercial houses, and have a substantial 
 air that puta to flight any suspicion that may 
 come into the minds of visitors. All the furni- 
 ture, desks, maps, books, are of the very best 
 material, and selected and disposed of to the 
 very best advantage. There is a private room, 
 a waiting room, a consulting room, and a gen- 
 eral office. In the best " houses " glass parti- 
 tions and glass doors abound, bogus clerks are 
 always busy over portentious books, and an im- 
 pression is made on the mind of the " customer " 
 at his very entrance that largo wealth is cer- 
 tainly at the back of the institution. Of course 
 it is hot easy to find these places. A sharp man 
 might travel a large city for a whole day, and 
 though there were a dozen of them in the town, 
 as there usually is, ho could not detect one. But 
 a man with the unsophisticated air and awkward- 
 ness of a Btrauger will soon bo approached by a 
 Banco " roper in" and be saved the trouble of 
 looking. 
 
 The Banco men travel in pairs, and work in 
 the following manner: 
 
 The first one, or, as he is called, the " feeler," 
 as soon as ho notices an cliRible stranger on the 
 street, or in any large public place, accosts him 
 in a warm, gratified manner as an old acquaint- 
 ance. Taking the gentleman by the hand, he 
 will pour out a volley on him in the style of the 
 ordinary city gentleman, completely at his ease. 
 
 " Bless my soul," he will ocgin", " when did 
 you come to town? Wliere are you staving? 
 Why did vou not come up to the house ? 'Now, 
 Where's tLe use of inviting you every time you 
 come to the city if you won't accept a fellow's 
 hospitality ? At all events you'll come and see 
 us before you go. I sent the ironware on last 
 week; I hope they turn out all satisfactory." 
 
 The gentleman is so overpowered with the 
 good-nature and friendliness of this reception 
 that he invariably replies: 
 
 "Y'ouare mistaken, sir. My name ia Carter, 
 not Wilson. I am in the dry-goods line, not 
 hardware." 
 
 Mr. " roper-in " expects this, so he is not in 
 the least taken aback, but with the most assured 
 coolness in the world, goes on: 
 
 " Dear me, that's very strange. I would have 
 sworn you were Mr. Wilson, from London, Ohio. 
 Remarkable likeness, upon my word. You don't 
 know Lim, I euppoae 7 ' 
 
 " No, sir; I am from Miles, Michigan." 
 
 "Well, this is the best joke of the season. 
 Whom I jee Wilson we shall have a good laugh 
 at it. Good-bve, Mr. Carter; I am very sorry I 
 have detained you so long, but I know you'll 
 excuse me. I hope, though, we shall meet again 
 while you are in the city." 
 
 And he moves ofi' around a corner, where he 
 is encountered by his partner, " roper-in " No. 
 2, or, as he is styled, the " catcher." Mr. " feel- 
 er " gives Mr. " catcher " all the particulars re- 
 specting Mr. Carter — that is, he is from Miles, 
 Michigan, is in the dry-goods business, in the 
 city buyu g goods, staying at such a hotel, and 
 so on •.Tith whatever he has gleaned during lus 
 conversation with the merchant. 
 
 The " catcher " follows Mr. Carter and keeps 
 alter him until a favorable opportunity occurs for 
 accosting him, when walking straight up to the 
 merchant, with extended hand, he will say: 
 
 " Good gracious, Mr. Carter, why how do yoo. 
 do, and what are you doing in tow'n ? How are 
 all the folks in Miles? I trust di-y-goods are 
 flourishing ? How is Mr. AUcash ? " 
 
 "Catcher" has found the name in the Bank 
 Note Reporter, a publication he always carries in 
 his pocket for instant reference, and knows it to 
 be that of the president of the First National Bank 
 of Carter's city. 
 
 Carter is at first surprised, and then half 
 pleased at meeting some one, at all events, from 
 his own part of the country. Still, with the cau- 
 tion of his class, he will answer: 
 
 " I can't say that I can place you exactly; but 
 
 " Why, you know old Allcash's family, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Yes, eir, certainly, every one of them." 
 
 " Well, I ought to" be heir to a large part of 
 whatever is left there; but at present I am " 
 
 " Not Obediab's nephew, surely, that was out 
 east here at college ? " 
 
 " You've hit it now." 
 
 " Well, this beats all; and you may swear I'm 
 just the same. Now, we'll jiist go in here and 
 take a little drink." 
 
 This is the start, and over their dram, Carter 
 says: 
 
 ■' But now tell me, what are you doing with 
 yourself .•' " 
 
 " Well, now, I want to confide a secret to you, 
 Mr. Carter, and you must promise me not to saj 
 a word about it when you get home. It is the 
 first time in my life I ever did such a thing, and 
 I promise you it will be the last." 
 
 SIDEWALK OBCHESTRA. 
 
 " Don't be afraid. I'll say nothing of it." 
 " Well, as I was comingover in the cars I met 
 a Cnbsn and I bought a Havana Lotterv Ticket 
 from him for a dollar. I showed it to the clerk 
 in the hotel this morning and he informs me it 
 has drawn a prize." 
 
THE GRKAT KMPIRE CITY. 
 
 i-i 
 
 " That's not bo bad," puts in Mr. Carter. 
 " Though it is sort oJ gambling like, aiu't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I want to get what it calls lor," con- 
 tinues " catcher," and I would like you to step 
 over as far as the banking bouse with me." 
 ' Carter hesitates, but as be cannot refuse to 
 
 SIDEWALK REFRESHMENTS. 
 
 •ccompany a townsman so short a distance, he 
 finally complies. They find the banking house, 
 and walk in. 
 
 " Catcher " asks: 
 
 " Is this where you cash Havana Lottery 
 tickets?" 
 
 "Yes," is the prompt reply. "Allow me to 
 see your ticket." 
 
 " Catcher " hands a printed slip made to re- 
 semble a genuine ticket. 
 
 Spnggins behind the counter puts on his 
 glasses, opens a huge account book, examines 
 the ticket, hunts for the con'esponding figures 
 along the columns of his journal, turning page 
 after page and masses of figures, going forward 
 and then back among the pages, and from book 
 to book in \l most business-like way until finally 
 he discovers the exact counterpart of the ticket. 
 Then looking up with a solemn air, pregnant 
 with the magnitude of the communication he is 
 about to make, Spriggins or his representative 
 remarks: 
 
 " Young man, this ticket draws $5,000. You 
 doubtless know that this is but the twentietli 
 part of the whole ticket, and you are entitled to 
 but $201 ? •■ 
 
 " Yes, si)'. I'eplies " catcher," " I understand 
 that." 
 
 " There is your money, sir," adds Spriggins, 
 handing out the $200, " and here is a ticket for 
 the one dollar that entitles you to a chance m 
 ihe special drawing. You are liable to get from 
 five to ten thousand dollars, and if you are 
 pressed for time you can call in to-monow." 
 
 " I can't do it to-morrow," says " catcher." 
 
 "Then leave it with your friend; probably he 
 ■will remain in the city a few days." 
 
 " Catcher," turning to Mr. Carter, asks: 
 
 " When are you going home, sir ? " 
 
 " I intended leaving on Monday morning, but 
 I'm afraid I'll be too busy to do it for you." 
 
 "Well," breaks in Spriggins, " as far as that 
 goes, we may as well draw it now. Walk this 
 way." 
 
 He introduces them into a private room, re- 
 moves a piano cover from a seeming instru- 
 ment, and reveals the Banco cloths all ready for 
 business. 
 
 Taking his place at the inside center of the 
 board, Spriggins explains after this fashion: 
 
 " Gentlemen, this is what is called the Havana 
 Special Drawing. We keep this diagram here 
 just for the benefit of persons who reside out of 
 town. When they get one of those tickets they 
 have but to come'here and see the result decided 
 ia a fev minutes. 
 
 " Now, a moment's attention, and I will explain 
 it to you." 
 
 " Catcher " seats himself opposite to Rpriggint 
 and desires Mr. Carter to bo seated also, as he 
 may want to buy a ticket. 
 
 Spriggins quickly takes him up, saving: 
 
 " Wo do not sell tickets hi^re. Tliis oilico is 
 merely lor the accommodation of people wlio 
 have been successful, and draw prizes.'' 
 
 This is thrown out to convince Carter that he 
 was not brought there with the ol)ject of selluig 
 him a ticket. 
 
 With that remark as a parenthesis, Spriggins 
 goes on: 
 
 " This is a branch of the Havana Lottery. As 
 you see, there are forty-one numbers, out of 
 these there are twelve star numbers and twenty- 
 six prizes, which avorage from two for one up to 
 $5,000. What I mean by two for one is this — if 
 you should draw this number, 22, it says two for 
 one. You would get for four tickets, supposo 
 that your tickets were for the amount ol $100, 
 you would receive $200. and so on. If you draw 
 a prize, the more you Lave down the more you 
 would take up." 
 
 At this point Spriggins takes from his pocket 
 a roll of money and a parcel of tickets, running 
 in numbers from one to six. Continuing his ex- 
 planation, he says: 
 
 " The lowest number on the cloth is eight, the 
 highest forty-eight. Between these are to be 
 found all intervening numbers. By drawing 
 eight of those tickets from this package, and add- 
 ing the numbers together the same as with dice, 
 you will get a result in round figures, and a corre- 
 spondent to that result you will find on the cloth. 
 Now, that combination made and the result dis- 
 covered, I will pay you whatever that number 
 calls for from $1 to $5,000." 
 
 " Catcher," appearing satisfied with the ex- 
 planation, draws. Spriggins informs him that 
 there is no prize, but adds: 
 
 " if you put one dollar with that one you can 
 draw again, and if you get a prize I will pay you 
 double the amount." 
 
 "Catcher" pays the dollar, and, turning to 
 Carter, requests him to make a draw lor him, as 
 he, " Catcher," is unlucky. 
 
 Carter draws and receives $40. 
 
 "Draw again, Mr. Carter," urges "catcher," 
 ' and 1 will put down one of those tickets for my- 
 self and one tor you, so that if you should win the 
 S5,000 you share half without the laying out of a 
 dollar." 
 
 Carter draws, and, as before, is paid two for 
 
 ^^: — 
 
 THE UTTLE FLOWER GTRL. 
 
 one. Both are then handed two tickets each by 
 Spriggins. 
 
 When this period in the game is reached, the 
 " catcher " usually suggests taking out some of 
 the money, but Mr. Carter, or, as he is termed, 
 the " sucker," will as generally object to it until 
 
 they have made another trial of fortune. Tha 
 next draw represents a steer, and here Spnggin» 
 stops the game to point out that* 
 
 "Whenever you draw a stea- yon have the 
 privilege of doubling up, and if y ju draw ssvea 
 steers without taking ^ prize you are entitled ta 
 
 THE nrP.RF.LLA MAM. 
 
 receive all your money back. But remember 
 you must represent, each time you draw, a. 
 steer. If you should get this number, 27, it has 
 two steers. I should have to place $500 to your 
 credit, and that money would remam in chancery 
 until the end of the seven draws. In case you 
 then drew nothing but steers, you would take" ali 
 you put on the cloth as well as the $500 in chan- 
 cery; so you see, gentlemen, by that manage- 
 ment of the numbers you would gain a large 
 amount of mouey. Now, you must represent 
 every throw. This time it will take one more oS 
 your tickets, and you draw again." 
 
 With a grand flourish and much show of open, 
 dealing, Spriggins manipulates the numbers, 
 counting them as he finishec with number twen- 
 ty-seven and exclaiming: 
 
 "I have to place $5,000 to the credit of each of 
 you gentlemen." 
 
 " Catcher " becomes very excited, gambols 
 about the room, and shakes hands several tunes 
 with the verdant Carter. Spriggins coolly counts 
 out fhe money, puts it in two silver vessels that 
 stand on either side of him. He continues his- 
 exordium on the matter in hand, and works to- 
 ward the commencement of a new deal with all 
 the ease of a man entirely untouched by the 
 great loss he has suffered — one used to the great 
 game of life-losing, winning and losing. 
 
 "You have now but four draws left, gentle- 
 men," the trained, well-modulated voice an- 
 nounces, " so that entails an addition of six dol- 
 lars each to your tickets." 
 
 It is easy to understand what is the state of 
 feeling to which the pair of swindlers have, by 
 this time, roused Carter; he will quickly follow 
 the example and advice of his newly-found friend. 
 
 " Catcher " puts up his six dollars and Carter'* 
 pocket-book is out in a minute and open. Hi» 
 stock of money is no sooner uncovered than its- 
 bulk is scanned by four sharp eyes, well prac- 
 ticed in this sort of work. 
 
 On goes the game, until it requires too in 
 money to back np the tickets, and but two draws 
 left. The money is again placed m the bank, 
 and then a star is spotted. 
 
 It now takes $225, and but one more chance 
 remaining. 
 
 " If you do not draw a prize this time," ejacu 
 lated Spriggins, "all you can lose is your tick 
 ets. You take hack your money, and $500 placea 
 for you in chanceryl" 
 
 Another turn of fortune around and Spriggina 
 appears to be attacked with the slightest posaiblsi 
 shade of excitement. 
 
32 
 
 THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY 
 
 " This is your last hope, gentlemen, and it 
 matters not what you draw, it must be a stud or 
 a priae, and it takes $1,250, which you must 
 represent." 
 
 Carter, feeling that he has gone too far to re- 
 tract at this stage, the spirit of the place and tlie 
 thing being strong upon him, the money is 
 kanded over, though reluctantly, aud Spriggins 
 again moves. 
 
 If Mr. Carter should not have that amount 
 about him, the scamps will oblige him by ac- 
 cepting a check, and that ceremony ended where 
 it is required, all seem satisfied but the unhappy 
 iman tbey are fleecing, and he sits pale and bag- 
 
 ^ — r 
 
 THE W.VXDERrSQ JEW. 
 
 gard on the ragged edge of expectation, hope 
 and dread. Spriggms resumes the chorus, and 
 on it runs to the effect: 
 
 " This is your last draw, gentlemen, and 
 should you strike the blank or ' Banco,' you lose 
 it. That number is twenty-eight, but you might 
 be drawing numbers for six months and never 
 strike that one. Indeed, our experience is that 
 it is very seldom reached."' 
 
 The last drawing is completed, the numbers 
 on the tickets are counted up aud make exactly 
 twenty-eight. This is the point of the whole 
 game, and one which the thieves are always en- 
 deavoring to reach. It is effected with veryhttle 
 aleight of band, but it produces wonderful re- 
 aultsi 
 
 "Catcher" jumps to his feet as Spriggins 
 quietly puts the money in the drawer, and asks 
 Carter to oome along. Carter hesitates, and 
 Spriggins looks up for a moment and remarks: 
 
 " Gentlemen, its customary for us to take the 
 names of those who lose or win monev in this 
 office during the day for pubhcation in the news- 
 papers as a guarantee ot fair play to the public. 
 Will yoB oblige me by signing in this register ? " 
 
 This is the last straw on the poor, honest, sim- 
 ple camel's back. The prospect of being shown 
 up in the New York papers as a gambler, a man 
 wno comes to town on business and begins it in 
 a gaming-house, is more dreadful than the actu- 
 ality of the loss of his money. He mutters some- 
 thing about never mind the register, and gets out 
 as quickly as he can, buys his goods on credit, 
 pawns his jewelry to pay his expenses, and goes 
 home a poorer and wiser man. 
 
 Now and then the Banco men get their fingers 
 in the wrong pie, though. 
 
 As, for instance, in the case of the young En- 
 glishman a short time ago, whose acquaintance 
 a "catcher" made at the Astor House. The 
 Britain was steered in, put through the usual 
 experience, and turned loose, short some $700, 
 all the money he had in the world. He went 
 out, but he did not forget the location of the 
 bank, and going to the British consulate got a 
 Iriend and fellow John Bull to return with him. 
 
 He explained that he wanted to show his 
 friend the new American game, and the sharp- 
 ers, taken in by the apparent rawness of the two, 
 aCODsented to uncover the cloth again. 
 
 The consulate man had a big roll of money, 
 and betfreely. Spnggms forgot his suspicions, 
 and backed the game heavily. When there was 
 some $1,200 on the table the swindled English- 
 man seized the pile of notes and put them in his 
 pocket. Dealer and hangers on jumped up, but 
 they were caught in their own trap. 
 
 They dared not make a noise, and so call the 
 police down on them, and their late victim 
 walked off, now their conquerors, with his losses 
 in his pocket, with compound interest. 
 
 No one who plays lawn tennis with the Queen's 
 English can get his nose inside that Banco room 
 door now, not if he carries his pockets stuffed 
 with currency. The burnt child dreads the fire. 
 — From " Tfie Man-Traps of New York," pub- 
 lished by Jiichard K. Fox. 
 
 THE GAMBLINS MANIA AND ITS FRUITS. 
 
 FaoJi Matthew Hale Smith's " Sunshine and 
 Shadow in New York," pubUshed by the J. B. 
 Burr Publishing Co., Hartford, Coim., we ex- 
 tract the following interesting article: 
 
 The haste to be rich, by a lucky stroke of for- 
 tune,by hazarding a few thousands in Wall Street, 
 is the same spirit that l«ads thousands to the 
 gambUng table. Lines of victims move in pro- 
 cession into the street daUy to try their fortune. 
 Into the great maelstrom money is thrown, 
 earned in the mines of Montana, dug out of the 
 rich soil of California, earned by hard toil on a 
 New England farm. The surplus of a success- 
 ful season in trade, the hard earnings of a me- 
 chanic, whose wife wishes to go to Newport aud 
 the Springs — the wife's dower that should be put 
 down in government securities, the pittance of 
 the orphan, by which it is hoped that one thou- 
 sand will swell to ten if not to hundreds, are 
 hazarded in stock speculations. However Hon- 
 est and regular as a class brokers may be, the 
 gambling mania ceutcriiig in Wall Street sweeps 
 like the simoon of the desert over every section 
 of our land. The wliole business of the country 
 has been thrown from its center, and trade gen- 
 erally partakes of the excitement and fluctuation 
 of stbcKs in the market. A man who goes into 
 Wall Street to do business, goes with his eyes 
 open. He knows, or may know, that he is at "the 
 mercy of a dozen unscrupulous men who can 
 swallow him up in an hour if they will. Among 
 the thousand small brokers of the' street, there is 
 a perfect understanding that any one of them may 
 go home penniless before night. The same com- 
 binations that lock up greeubackB and corner 
 gold in the street, strike trade in every direc- 
 tion. Wheat and corn are subject to the same 
 fluctuation aud uncertainty that attends stock. A 
 speculator in the street gets a private telegram 
 that grain is scarce, or corn heated, or some 
 news that affects the market. Ho goes immedi- 
 ately to the Corn Exchange and bulls and bears 
 grain as he would stocks. The same men mo- 
 nopolize coal. The market is entirely brought 
 up, or the miners are paid daily n age's to go on 
 a strike. 
 
 A c.vsE IS ponrr. 
 
 Dry goods arc as sensitive and as much sub- 
 ject to the gambling mania as money. Extrava- 
 gant hotels, aristocrahc groceries, from which 
 goods are delivered by servants in livery, enor- 
 mous drinking places fitted up like a royal pal- 
 ace, bespeak the extravagance of the age. In the 
 vicinity of Union Park a snobby speculator, some 
 time ago, set up a then pnncelv mansion. It was 
 brown stone in front, aud radiant in gold and 
 gilt. It was furnished sumptuously with gold 
 gilt rosewood furniture, satin coverings woven in 
 gold and imported from Paris, carpets more cost- 
 Iv than were ever before laid in the city, and all 
 tlie applianoes of fashion, wealth and taste, were 
 included in the adornment. It was a nine days* 
 wonder of the city, and, like other experiments 
 of the same sort, it came to an end. The furni- 
 ture was brought to the block and the family dis- 
 appeared from among the aristocracy of the city. 
 A new sensation awaited the curious. The splen- 
 did mansion was to be turned into a first-class 
 dry goods store. It would outrival Stewart and 
 Claflin, and nothing to equal it would be found 
 in London or Paris. The whole front was torn 
 out and the building fitted up with plate glass, 
 and made gorgeous as the reception room of a 
 sovereigu. Rumor ascribed to the firm untold 
 wealth, so that should they sink one or two hun- 
 dred thousand dollars in establishing trade, it 
 would not embarrass or discourage the house. 
 The opening day came, and such a sight New 
 York never saw. All the stories were thrown 
 open. The business was in apartments and 
 gorgeously fitted up. An army of salesmen and 
 clerks were in their places, arrayed in full even- 
 
 ing dress, with white gloves. All New Yorl 
 poured in, as it would have done to have see* 
 the proprietors hanged— and then turned awaj 
 as fashionable New York will, leaving the con- 
 cern high and dry like a vessel on the beach. A 
 disasti-ous failure followed, and the ruined spec- 
 ulators, satisfied that New York Avas not a tuea' . 
 tre for theft- genius, retired. Three hundred 
 thousand dollars could not have been lost more 
 artistically in Wall Street. 
 
 >'0 UOBAI. PBINCIPLE. 
 
 Gambling and moral principle arj not yoke 
 fellows. The very stj'le of business done in the 
 street brunts the moral sense. When Swarth- 
 wout embezzled the Government funds and gave 
 his name to a system of swindling which has be- 
 come so disgracefully common, he stood alone in 
 his disgraceful eminence. To-d»y gigantic 
 frauds, embezzlements and robberies are so com- 
 mon that but little attention is paid to the revela- 
 tions. The papers are full of mstances of trust- 
 ed aud honored men, who commit great frauds. 
 A small portion only of such crimes come to the 
 surface. The affair is hushed up to prevent 
 family disgrace. A corporation threatened with 
 the loss of one hundred thousand dollars or 
 more by the roguery of an official, had rather 
 take the money from a friend than lock up the 
 criminal. Thousands of companies sprung up 
 during the oil speculations. Full two-thirds of 
 these were frauds, aud dupes and victims swin- 
 dled on the right aud on the left, were counted 
 by thousands. Men who went to bed supposing 
 that they were worth a quarter of a million awoke 
 in the morning to find that they had been swin- 
 dled out of all their money, and were beggars. 
 The spirit infects nearly all the officials of the 
 Government to-day. The money stolen by men 
 in public places is lost in Wall Street or squan- 
 dered at the gaming table. Nov long since one 
 of the best known business men was snddenly 
 killed OB a train of cars. No man stood highe'r 
 in the church or State. He had immense sums of 
 trust money in his hands belonging to widows and 
 orphans, and religious associations, for he was 
 thought safer than any savings bank. He was a 
 fine looking man, cheery in spirit, agreeable in 
 manner. He was supposed to be the embodi- 
 ment of integrity and fidelity. His sudden death 
 brought his affairs to the surface. He was found 
 to be a defaulter to an immense amount. He 
 had taken the funds of widows and orphans aud 
 
 THE PEANDT VENDER. 
 
 sunk them in the maelstrom of Wall Street. In- 
 stead of leaving his family a princely fortune, he 
 left his wife and children dishonored and ruined. 
 In the olden time, a merchant would no more 
 have used trust money in his own business than 
 he would have committed any other great crime. 
 At the head of one of our largest and most suc- 
 cesrtul banks was a gentleman, who for a quar- 
 ter of a century had the established reputation 
 which high honor, business talent and honest de- 
 votion to his pursuits give. His habits were sim- 
 ple; his house modest, and his style of living 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 33 
 
 much below hia position. He left the bank one 
 night, at the usual time, bidding lua associatea a 
 cheery good evening. He did not return; he has 
 never returned. Ou examining hia accounts, it 
 was found that he was a heavy defaulter. Not 
 content with hia salary and hia business, anxious 
 ^o secure a fortune wliicli could be had for the 
 taking, ho put himself into the hands of stock 
 gamblera. He squandered hia own money and 
 the fortune of hia wife, sold bonds placed in the 
 bank for safe keepmg, and speculated with and 
 lost the funds of depoaitoi-a. He carried nothing 
 with him, but lied from hia homo a poor, as well 
 a8 a disgraced man — bankrupt in fortune, in- 
 tegrity and all. 
 
 The frequent and glaring crimes connected 
 with gold gambling do not alarm the community, 
 ijome regard the revelations aa a good joke, or a 
 sharp hit. Men wonder how much the party 
 made, and often consider the criminal a fool for 
 not doing better. Bets are troquently put up, as 
 to the amounts taken; if the robbery runs up to 
 a hundred or two hundred thousand dollars, 
 tlieu the speculation is aa to how much the de- 
 faulter will return to have the matter huahed up. 
 To ahow how little public moralitv there is, take 
 an incident: I was present not long since at a 
 convention held under the auspices of one of the 
 loading religious denotainatioua of the State. A 
 prominent pastor of this city accused another of 
 stating things that were wholly false, both on the 
 tloor of the meeting and outsiae. Other eminent 
 men conlirmed the statement, one of whom said 
 that the pastor was notorious for his " conspicu- 
 ous inaccuracies." The whole thing was treated 
 as a good joke. The party accused was covered 
 with confusion and could not reply. The con- 
 vention was very merry over his embarrasament. 
 Twenty-live years ago had a New York pastor 
 been accused of falsehood in an assembly and 
 confessed it by his silence, t!ie whole religious 
 world would have been agitated. One of our 
 banks was robbed, and it put its loss at twenty- 
 tive thousand dollars. The community didn't 
 believe a word of it, and the community were 
 right. Another bank, which had lost heavily by 
 a defaulting cashier, made an official statement 
 that its loss would not exceed one hundred thou- 
 sand dollara. A few years ago such a statement 
 signed by bank officers would have received im- 
 plicit credit. Not only the press placed no re- 
 liance in such official statement, but the discus- 
 sions in the banks and on change showed the 
 want of confidence in such matters. In this age 
 of demoralization, when everything ia unaettled 
 morally, and everybody is at sea, when checks, 
 notes and bonda have to be examined with a mi- 
 croscope to see whether they are forged or al- 
 tered, when the recklessness, infatuation, and 
 madness of Baden Baden pervades every depart- 
 ment of business, it ia aomethmg to say that in 
 the Board of Brokers in Wall Street there has not 
 appeared a defaulter in a quarter of a century, 
 or a man that has repudiated or broken hia con- 
 tracts. 
 
 THE INFATU.VTIOX. 
 
 ' .Men who have had a taale of the atreet cannot 
 be kept from their favorite haunta. I sat in the 
 office of a gentleman the other day, who, six 
 months ago, was a rich man. For twenty-five 
 years he has done a successful buaineaa, and at 
 "uo time haa known financial embarrassment. 
 He lived in luxury in a city and country home. 
 It was his boast that he never gave a note, in- 
 curred a debt, or failed to have his check hon- 
 ored for any amount needed. A nice little 
 scheme was presented to him by some confiden- 
 tial friends. It was a time of general excitement. 
 The speculation waa such a nice one, and the 
 gain so certain and large, that the man placed 
 his name at the disposal of the combination, and, 
 of course, was ruined. It took him twelve hours 
 to scatter the labor of twenty-four years. Some 
 spiritualiata got hold of a capitalist not long 
 since. He had half a milhon to invest, and he 
 did it in original style. Having great confidence 
 iu Webster and Clay while they lived, he thought 
 they might have a better acquaintance with finan- 
 cial" matters in the spirit land than they exhibited 
 when they lived. Through parties competent to 
 do it, he opened communications with those dis- 
 tinguished statesmen. They seemed very ready 
 to assist him in his speculations. They wrote 
 him long communications through his mediums, 
 which he read to his friends. It was observed 
 that Clay's intellect seemed to be a little shaken 
 since hia departure, and Webster was more dif- 
 fuse and leas compact and sententious than when 
 in the land of the living. It waa also very ap- 
 parent that these distinguished gentlemen in the 
 spirit land did not know much about the affiiira 
 in this world, for the speculationa proved moat 
 ruinnns. T!ipv t\.> 1 u-vf'io <t lol pi ni's fov':ri'<. 
 
 and well nigh beggared him. But hia confidence 
 in the ability of Webster and Clay to guide him 
 to untold wealth is unshaken. How uncertain 
 speculation ia may be learned from an answer 
 given by one of our oldest and most successful 
 brokers to a friend. " I have fifty thousand dol- 
 lars to invest," said the man to the dealer in 
 atocka, "what would you advise mo to do?" 
 The broker pointed his finger to a donkey cart 
 going by, loaded with ashes, "Oo and asK that 
 man driving the ash cart," said the broker; " he 
 knowa as much about it as I do." When the 
 oldest, the shrewdest and the most successful 
 operators lose from fifty thousand to half a mil- 
 lion at a blow, what can small speculators ex- 
 Eect 'I Yet the infatuation continues. Seedy men 
 ang around their old haunts, waiting for some- 
 thing to turn up. There is an old man nearly 
 eighty, who can bo seen daily in Wall Street, who 
 IS as infatuated as any gambler in the world. He 
 waa accounted a millionaire a few months ago. 
 Naturally cool, selfish and self-reliant, a mania 
 seemed to have possessed him. He promised 
 over and over again to leave the atreet. Every- 
 body aaw that he was going to ruin. One morn- 
 ing he came down, made a plunge, loat every- 
 thing, and has gone home to die — a type of 
 tribes who dabble in stock. 
 
 SHARP PRACTICE. 
 
 The sudden collapse of fortunes, closing of 
 elegant mansiona, the selling off of plate and 
 horaea at auction, the hurling of men down from 
 firat-claas poaitiona to aubordinate posts, is an 
 overy-day occurrence in New York. In almost 
 every case these reverses result from outside 
 trading and meddling with matters foreign to 
 one's legitimate business. The city is full of 
 sharp rogues and unprincipled speculators, who 
 lie awake nigbta to catch the unwary. None arc 
 more easily ensnared than hotel-keepera, and 
 this 18 the way it ia done: A well-dressed, good- 
 looking man comes into a hotel, and brings his 
 card as the president of some great stock com- 
 pany. In a careless, indifferent way he asks to 
 look at a suite of rooms. He has previously as- 
 certained that the proprietor has from fifty to a 
 hundred thousand dollara in the bank waiting 
 for something to turn up. The rooms shown 
 are not good enough. He wants rooms that will 
 accommodate certain distinguished gentlemen, 
 whom he names, who happen to be the well- 
 known leading financiers of the great cities. A 
 better suite is shown the president. The coat is 
 high — one thousand dollars a month. But the 
 rooms auit; he must accommodate his friends; a 
 few thousands one way or the other won't make 
 much difference with his company; so he con- 
 cludes to take the rooms. The landlord hints at 
 references; the president chuckles at the idea 
 that he should be called on for references; he 
 never givea any: but if the landlord wants one 
 or two thouaand dollars, he can have it. "Let 
 me 8ee,"the president aaya very coolly, " I ahall 
 want these rooms about six months, off and on. 
 I may be gone half the time or more. If it's any 
 accommodation to you, I will give you my check 
 for SIX thousand dollara, and pay the whole thing 
 up." Of courae the landlord? ia all amiles, and 
 the president takes possession. Before the six 
 months are out, from fifty to a hundred thousand 
 dollars of the landlord's money goes into the 
 hands of the speculator, and a lot of worthless 
 stock is locked up in the aafe of the hotel. 
 
 Another scheme is equally aucceaaful. The 
 rooma are taken, and the occupant ia the moat 
 liberal of gueats. Champagne auppera and coat- 
 ly vianda are ordered without stint, and prompt- 
 ly paid for. Coaches with liveried drivers and 
 footmen, hired for the occasion, leave imposing 
 cards at the hotel. The obseqiuous landlord 
 and well-feed steward pay especial attention to 
 the wants of the liberal guest. Waiters fly at his 
 command, and the choicest tit-bits are placed 
 before him. Picking hia teeth after breakfast 
 while the landlord ia chatting with him some 
 Saturday morning when it rains, he expresses a 
 wish, rather indifferently, that he had fifty thou- 
 sand dollars. His banker won't be home till 
 Monday— don't care much about it — get it easy 
 enough going down town — wouldn't go out in the 
 rain for twice the sum — indifferent about it, and 
 vet evidently annoyed. The landlord goes into 
 Lis office and examines his bank account, and 
 finds ho can spare fifty thousand dollars, without 
 any inconvenience, till Monday. Glad to accom- 
 modate his distinguished guest, who is going to 
 bring all the moneyed men to his liotel, he hands 
 over the money, which is refused three or lour 
 times before it is taken. On Monday morning 
 the hotel man finds that his distinguished tenant 
 has put a Sabbath between himself and pursuit. 
 Such tricks are played constantly, and new vic- 
 fi':i-> v.^" I"'i'in 1 cvcrv d:<v. 
 
 TSt£ 8TREET ON THE OUTSIDE. 
 
 Men who visit New York, and see nothing but 
 the outside aspect which it presents, imaguio 
 that succesa is one of the easiest things in the 
 world, and to heap up riches, a mere paatinio in 
 the city. They are familiar with the name and 
 history of theAstors. They know that Stewart 
 began life a poor boy, kept store in a siuaU 
 ahanty, and kept house in a few rooms in a 
 dwelling, and boarded his help. They walk 
 through Fifth Avenue, and look on tlie outside ol 
 palacea where men dwell who left home a few 
 yeara ago with their worldly wealth tied up in a 
 cotton handkerchief. Tlioy stroll around Central 
 I'ark, and magnificent tca'ma, gav equipagea and 
 gayer ladies and gentlemen go by in a constant 
 stream; and men are pointed out who, a short 
 time ago, were grooms, coachmen, ticket-takera, 
 boot-blacks, news-boys, printer's devils, porters 
 and coal-heavers, who have come up from ths 
 lower walks of life by dabbling in stocks, by a 
 lucky speculation, or a audden turn of fortune. 
 So young men pour in from the country, confi- 
 dent of auccesa, and ignorant that these men are 
 the exceptions to the general law of trade; and 
 that ruin and not success, defeat and not fortune, 
 bankruptcy and not a fine competence, are the 
 law of New York trade. 
 
 Nothing ia more striking or more sad than the 
 commercial reverses of this city. They come 
 like tempests and hail-storms which threaten 
 every man's plantation, and cut down the har- 
 vest ready for the sickle. Few firms have bad 
 Eormanent succesa for twenty-five years. In one 
 ouso in this city twenty men are employed as 
 salesmen on a salary, who, ten yeara ago, were 
 called princely merchants, whose famihes lived 
 in style, and who led the fashions. Men who 
 embark on the treacherous sea of mercantile life 
 are ingulfed, and while their richlv-laden barke 
 go down, they escape personally by the masts 
 and apars thrown to them by more fortunate ad- 
 venturers. One houae in thia city, quite as cele- 
 brated at one time as Stewart's, who, in imitation 
 of that gentleman, built their marble store on 
 Broadway, are now salesmen in establishmenta 
 more successful than their own. New York is 
 full of reduced merchants. Some of them brave- 
 ly bear up under their reverses. Some hide 
 away ia the multitude of our people. Some take 
 rooma in tenement-housea. Some do a little 
 brokerage busineaa, given to them by thoae who 
 knew them m better daya. Some take to the bot- 
 tle, and add moral to commercial ru' 
 
 THE SCHUYLER FRAUD. 
 
 One of the most successful railroad men of 
 New York boarded at one of our principal hotels. 
 He was an unmarried man. He waa accounted 
 an eminent and successful financier. His repu- 
 tation and standing were unquestioned. He was 
 connected with the principal capitahsts in the 
 city, and waa one whom New York delighted to 
 honor. In a small house in the upper part of the 
 city he had a home. Here he lived a part of his 
 time, and reared a family, though the mother of 
 his children was not his wife. Down town, at bis 
 hotel, he passed by one name; up town, in his 
 house, he was known by another. It would seem 
 impoaaible that a prominent business man, re- 
 puted to be rich, brought into daily busmeae 
 contact with princely merchants and bankers, the 
 head of a large railroad interest, could reside in 
 New York, and for a number of years lead the 
 double life of a bachelor and a man of family; be 
 known by one name down town, and another 
 name up town; yet so it waa. At hia hotel and 
 at hia office he was found at the usual hours. 
 To his up town home he came late and went out 
 early. 'There he was seldom seen. The land- 
 lord, the butcher, the grocer and the milkman 
 transacted all their business with the lady. Bills 
 were promptly paid, and no questions asked. 
 The little girls" became young ladies. They went 
 to the best boarding-schools in the land. 
 
 An unexpected crisis came. A clergyman in 
 good standing became acquainted with one of 
 the daughters at her boarding-school. He re- 
 garded her with so much mterest, that he so- 
 licited her hand in marriage. He was referred 
 to the mother. The daughters had said that their 
 father was a wealthy merchant of New York; but 
 bis name did not appear in the Directory, he was 
 not known on 'change The lover only knew the 
 name by which the daughters were called. The 
 mother'was affable, but embarrassed. The gen- 
 tleman thought something was wrong, and in- 
 sisted on a personal interview with the father. 
 The time was appointed for the interview. The 
 youug man was greatly astonished to discover in 
 the father of the young lady one of the most em- 
 inent business men of the city. He gave hia con- 
 sent to the marriage, and promised to do well by 
 ,1,,. ,1 . •,..!, ■,.;• tbMi'ij'.i h.- admitted that the 
 
34 
 
 THK GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 mother of the young ]< Jy was not his wife. The 
 clergyman was great'? attached to the young 
 woman, who was reaily beautiful and accom- 
 pbahed. He agreed to lead her to the altar, if, 
 at the same time, the merchant would make the 
 mother his wife. This was agreed to, and the 
 double wedding was ooimummated the same 
 night. The father and mother were first mar- 
 ried, and then the father gave away the daugh- 
 ter. The affair created a ten days' sensation. 
 The veil of secrecy was removed. The family 
 took the down town name, which was the real 
 one — a name among the most honored in the 
 city. Au up town fashionable mansion was pur- 
 chased, and fitted up in style. Crowds filled the 
 spacious parlors, for there was just piquancy 
 enough in the caso to make it attractive. Splen- 
 did coaches of the fashionable filled the street; 
 a dasliing company crowded the pavement, and 
 rusliud up the steps tr enjoy the sights. These 
 brilliant parties continued but a short time. The 
 mercliant was rotten at heart. All New Tfork 
 was astounded one day at the report that the 
 great railroad liing had become a gigantic de- 
 faulter, and had absconded. His crash carried 
 down fortunes and families with his own. Com- 
 mercial circles yet suflfer for his crimes. The 
 courts are still fretted with suits between great 
 corporations and individuals growing out of 
 these transaotious. Fashionable New York, 
 which could overlook twenty years of criminal 
 life, could not excuse poverty. It took reprisals 
 for brmgiug this family into social position bv 
 hurling it bank into au obscurity from which 
 probably it will never emerge. 
 
 liODOISOS IN A TESEMENT HODSE. 
 
 A few summers ago a lady of New York reigned 
 an a belle at Saratoga. Her elegant and numer- 
 »ii dresses, valuable diamonds, and dashing 
 t iriiDUt attra/Ued great attention. Her husband 
 waH a quiet sort of a mau, attending closely to 
 bis business. Ho came to Saratoga on Saturdays, 
 and returned early on Monday morning. The 
 lady led a gay life, was the center of attraction, 
 patronized the plays, and was eagerly sought as 
 b partner at the balls. After a very brilliant and 
 gay season she disappeared from fashionable 
 life, and was soon forgotten. One cold season a 
 benuvolenc New York lady visited a tenement 
 house on an errand of mercy. Mistaking the 
 door to which she was directed, she knocked at 
 a corresponding one on another storv. The 
 door was opened by a female, who looked on the 
 Ttsitor for an instant, and then suddenly closed 
 the door. The lady was satisfied that she had 
 Been the womiin somewhere, and thinking she 
 might afford aid to a needy person, she persist- 
 ently knocked at the door till it was opened. 
 Judge of her surprise when she found that the 
 occupant of that room, in that tenement house, 
 was the dashing belle whom she had met a sea- 
 Bon or two before at the Springs! In one room 
 herself and husband lived, in a building overrun 
 with occupants, crowded with children, dirt and 
 tnrbulonoo. Mortification and suffering, blend- 
 ed with poverty, in a few months had done the 
 work of years on that comely face. Her story 
 was the old one repeated a thousand times. Re- 
 verses, liko a torrent, suddenly swept away a 
 lar^e fortune. Her husband became discouraged, 
 disconsolate, and refused to try again. He lost 
 his self-respect, took, to the bowl and became a 
 drunkard. The wile followed him step by step 
 in his descent, from his high place among the 
 merchautd to his home among the dissolute. To 
 furnish herself and husband with bread, she 
 parted with her drosses, jewels and personal 
 effects. She pointed to a heap in the corner, 
 covered with rags, and that was all that remaiuea 
 of a princely inerchanti 
 
 PERILS or SPECnLATION. 
 
 The speculating mania which pervades New 
 York is one of the rocks in the channel on which 
 BO many strike and founder. Shrewd, enter- 
 prising men, who are engaged in successful busi- 
 ness, are induced to make investments in stocks 
 and operations of various kmds, and are thus at 
 the mercy of sharpers. Their balance in the 
 bank is well known. Speculators lay snares for 
 theui, and catch them with guile. A man makes 
 money in a business ho understands, and loses 
 it in one he knows nothing about. One is a suc- 
 cessful merchant, and he imagines he can be a 
 Buccossful broker; one stands at the head of the 
 bar, and ho thinks ho can lead the Stock Board. 
 Ho is a broker; ho adds to it an interest in rail- 
 road* or steamboats. Men have a few thousand 
 dollars that they do not need at present in their 
 business. They arc easily enticed into a liltie 
 Bp*«nl3tion by which they may make their for- 
 iu>io. They get in a little way, and to save what 
 they have invested they advance more. They 
 
 continue in this course until their outside ven- 
 tures rum their legitimate business. Stock com- 
 panies, patent medicines, patent machineB, oil 
 wells, and copper stocks have carried down thou- 
 sands of reputed millionaires, with bankers, 
 brokers, and dry goods men, who have been 
 duped by xinprincipled schemers. Fortunes 
 made by tact, diligence, and shrewdness, are 
 lost by an insane desire to make fifty or one hun- 
 dred thousand dollars in a day. The mania for 
 gambling in trade marks much of the bnsiuess of 
 New York. The stock and gold gambling has 
 brought to the surface a set of men new to the 
 city. The stock business, which was once m the 
 hands of the most substantial and respectable of 
 our citizens, is now controlled by men desperate 
 and reckless. Any man who can command fifty 
 dollars becomes a broker. These men know 
 no hours and no laws. Early and late they are 
 on the ground. No gamesters are more desper- 
 ate or more suddenly destroyed. The daily re- 
 verses in Wall Street exceed any romance that 
 has been written. A millionaire" leaves his pa- 
 latial residence in the morning, and goes home 
 at night a ruined man. It is a common thing for 
 speculators who can afford it, to draw checks of 
 from fifty to one hundred thousand dollars to 
 make up their losses in a single day. 
 
 A mau rides up to Central Park one afternoon 
 with his dashing equipage; his wife and proud 
 daughters whirl the dust in the eyes of well-to- 
 do citizens who are on foot. The next day this 
 fine team and elegant mansion, with store full of 
 goods, go into the hands of his creditors. He 
 sends his family into the country, and either dis- 
 appears himself, or is seen on tlie outskirts of the 
 crowd waiting for something to turn up. The 
 reckless mode of doing business leads to a reck- 
 less style of living, extravagance and dissipation, 
 which no legitimate business can support. The 
 mania touches all classes. Women and minis- 
 ters are not exempt. One pastor m this city is a 
 good specimen of the power of this speculating 
 mania. The demon got possession of him. He 
 made a little money. He started to make five 
 thousand. He moved the figure ahead to the lit- 
 tle sum of a quarter of a million. The business 
 transformed the man. His face became haggard; 
 his eyes dilated; his hair disheveled; he could 
 not sleep; he bought all the editions of the 
 papers; got up nights to buy extras; chased the 
 l>oy8 round the corners for the latest news; was 
 early at the stock market, and among the last to 
 leave the Fifth Avenue Hotel at night when the 
 board closes its late session. Whether a quarter 
 of a million is worth what it costs, this gentle- 
 man can tell when he gets it. A lady in tins city 
 came from New England. She was the child of 
 a sailmaker, and was brought up in humble cir- 
 cumstances. A wealthy man, wlioso repute was 
 not high, and whose disposition was not amiable, 
 offered her his hand. She did not expect love, 
 nor hardly respect, but ho offered her instead a 
 coach, an elegant mansion, and costly jewels. 
 8ho found herself suddenly elevated. She lived 
 in commanding style, with her furniture, plate, 
 and servants. She bore her elevation badlv, and 
 looked down with scorn upon her old friends and 
 associates. Her husband engaged de«plv in 
 speculation; it proved a ruinous one. To lielp 
 himself out of a crisis he committed forgery. 
 He was sent to the State Prison. His great estab- 
 lishment was seized. Her house was sold over 
 her head by the sheriff. Her jewels, valued at 
 fifteen thousand dollars, were spirited awav, and 
 she never saw them more. She was suddenly 
 elevated, and as sudilenly hurled down to the 
 position from which she had been taken. 
 
 HONESTI LEADS. 
 
 The men who are the capitalists of New York 
 to-day are not the sons of the wealthy or suc- 
 cessful merchants of the city. Tliey" are men 
 whoso lathers were porters, wood-choppers, and 
 coal-heavers. They did the hard work, swept 
 out the stores, made the fires, used the marking- 
 pot, were kicked and cuffed about, and suffered 
 every hardship. But they jostled and outran 
 the pampered son of their employer, and carried 
 oft' the prize. The chief end of man is not to 
 make money. But if one imagines that it is, and 
 that a fortune must be made at once, then he 
 wdl barter the solid ground for the mirage, and 
 leave a successful business for the glittering 
 morass; trade that insures a handsome compe- 
 tence for wild speculati'^Q. The hands on the 
 dial plate ol industry will stand still while men 
 grasp at shadows. 
 
 In New York, two kinds of business greet a 
 comer, one bad, the other good; one easy to get; 
 the other hard; the one pays at the start, tho 
 other pays but little; perhaps the position itself 
 must be "paid for. If one wants money, saj's he 
 has his fortune to make snd cannot wait, he will 
 
 take what turns up, and wait for better time«. 
 Disreputable trade, questionable btisiness, i 
 tricky house, a saloon or a bar-room, are open 
 to a reputable young man, and if he have a dash 
 of piety, all tlie better. But such touch pitch 
 and are defiled; they seldom lose the taint of the 
 first business in which they are engaged. Men 
 can be good or bad in any trade. They can he 
 sound lawyers or pettifoggers; a merchant of 
 property or a mock auctioneer; a physician 
 whose skill and character endear him to the bent 
 families in the land, or a doctor whose " sauJs 
 of life have almost run out;" a preacher who 
 says, " Woe is me if I preach not the gospel," or 
 a minister who, like some in the olden time, 
 said, " Put me, I pray thee, into the priest's 
 office, that I may get me a morsel ot bread." 
 There is no permanent success without integrity, 
 industry, and talent. 
 
 In trade there are two codes that govern men. 
 The one is expressed in the mottoes, " All is fair 
 in trade; " "Be as honest as the times will al- 
 low; " " If you buy the devil, you must sell him 
 again." The other acts on business principles; 
 sells a sound horse for a sound price; gives the 
 customer the exact article that he buys. The 
 few houses that have been successful, amid an 
 almost universal crash, have been houses which 
 have done business on principle. In cases 
 where honorable tradesmen . .ave been obliged 
 to suspend, they are Minister of Babylon. Some 
 of these men went from the store to compete with 
 the ablest statesmen of the world. Some left 
 their patients on a sick bed to measure swords 
 with veteran commanders on the battle-field. 
 They met on the seas naval oflScers of highest 
 rank, and made them haul down their flags to 
 the new banner of our nation. They eounded 
 out freedom in the Declaration of lndepen<Ji>nce; 
 the bugle-call rang over hill and dale, crossed 
 oceans and continents, into dungeons, and made 
 tyrants tremble in their palace homes — building 
 a nation that no treason could ruin and no for- 
 eign foe destroy. Like tho Eddystone light- 
 house, the Union, sometimes hid for a moment 
 by the angry surges, still threw its steady light 
 on the turbulent waters, and guided the tempest- 
 tossed into tho harbor where they would be. 
 
 These Old School men ate not a bit of idle 
 bread. They were content with their small store 
 and pine desk. They owned their goods, and 
 were their own cashiers, salesmen, clerks, and 
 porter. They worked sixteen hours a day, and 
 so became millionaires. They would as soon 
 have committed forgery as to have been mean 
 or unjust in trade. They made their wealth in 
 business, and not in fraudulent failure. They 
 secured their fortunes out of their customers, 
 and not out of their creditors. Not so Young 
 America. He must make a dash. Ho begins 
 with a brown-stono store, filled with goods for 
 which he has paid nothing; marries a dashing 
 belle; delegates all the business that he can to 
 others; lives in style, and spends his money be- 
 fore ho gets it; keeps his fast horse, and other 
 appendages equally fast; is much at tho club- 
 room, on the sporting track, and in billiard or 
 kindred saloons, speak of his father as the "old 
 governor," and of his mother as the "old wo- 
 man;" and finally becomes porter to his clerk, 
 and lackey to his salesman. Beginning where 
 his father left off, ho leaves off where his father 
 began. 
 
 ■ » « 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCHMAN'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 There were signs of a disturbance in the pub- 
 lic streets, wrote Nathan D. timer, several years 
 ago, in the New York Weekly, but there was no 
 crowd to witness it— only two policemen, talk- 
 ing together and swinging their clubs, at the cor- 
 ner of Catherine street and the Bowery, and two 
 belated members of the press— one whom I shall 
 call Frank Watson and myself— were tho wit- 
 nesses of tho scene. 
 
 Two women, or girls— they were nothing more 
 in age -had issued in the early daylight, from 
 the depths of a "lager-beer concert saloon," as 
 it is called, and stood upon the pavement, en- 
 gaged in a windy and by no means decent war of 
 words. Rival lovers was probably the cause. 
 At any rate, they threatened each other with all 
 manner of personal violence, and, with that mor- 
 bid desire to see the result, instead of prevent- 
 ing it, as the Christian spirit should have prompt- 
 ed, we paused for the result. We did not have 
 to wait long The mutual taunts became more 
 extravagant, and every moment it seemed that 
 they would come to blows. But close to the 
 nea"rer and better appearing girl, there stood a 
 white-faced woman robed in black, who several 
 times endeavored, unsuccessfully, it is true, to 
 persuade her friend awav from tne encounter. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CrPY. 
 
 Her laco was eoamed with dissipation, but tht 
 somberuesa of her dress aud hor goueral de- 
 cency of behavior, together with her auiiety to 
 carry her frieud— probably hor sister— away, 
 clothed her with a respect winch would not 
 otherwise have beeu granted hor. The coutost- 
 .auts lorgot the presence of tlio policeniou in their 
 passion, l)Ut she did not, aud lier hands were ex- 
 tended appealiugly to the <iiiarrcl«omo twain. 
 
 The gray of morning was just flooding the 
 Ktreet, and as we stood awaiting the result a la- 
 borer, with his lunch-bucket, came aloug, aud 
 also stopped beside us. 
 
 " 8uro, they're always roadv for row, oven at 
 this time in the morning," said he, betraying his 
 nationality iu his brogue. " Howld ou a miuute, 
 and you'll see the cud ou it." 
 
 The man of prophesy was rough and uncouth, 
 but he evidently was wide awake. The taunts 
 grew fiercer, the words wilder and more lusult- 
 iug. Then came the swift blow, the quick re- 
 apoDse from women's claws, and in auother in- 
 stant the two were battling like cats, scratching, 
 tearing, aud biting, as only women can tight, 
 when they surrender their womauhood to that 
 extent— and we saw them rolling over iu the 
 mud of the street, like cats entangled iu a rage. 
 
 The woman of the wliite face stood looking at 
 them with a face oloquout with agony, and 
 wringing her bauds. 
 
 "The two pohcemen strolled up, laughing, sepa- 
 rated the contestants, aud each tooK charge of 
 each, after permitting them to regain possession 
 of their hats and capos, which had been torn off 
 in the struggle. They went away with the offi- 
 cers in a matter-of-fact manner, as though they 
 were used to it, aud with the jest and yoke and 
 wild laughter of the depraved woman. But the 
 white-faced woman in black gazed after them 
 with an expression of luulu agouy. 
 
 Aa thev turned the corner of the street on their 
 way to itie Oak Street Station House, ahe sud- 
 denly fell upon her knees on the muddy pave- 
 ment, aud lifted her white hands to Ueaveu with 
 a despairing gesture, which I shall never banish 
 from my memory. 
 
 The iucideut was so startling and remarkable 
 <hat I was rooted to the spot with amazement, 
 jut it was only for an instant. She suddenly 
 aprang to her feet, and, as if possessed by a 
 auddeu desperation, rushed down the street 
 ;Catheriao Street), and laded away in the un- 
 certain shadows of the early morning. 
 
 The uext morning— or, rather, two mornings 
 thereafter — my reportorial business called me to 
 a coroner's inquest at Bellevue Hospital, and a 
 casual interest led me to inspect the damp, sol- 
 emn apartments of the Morgue. 
 
 A single corpse was exhibited upon the marble 
 trestles of that mournful institution. I started 
 back at first aa I beheld it, and then grew to the 
 sight with a fascination which I could not ex- 
 plain to my own mind. The solitary corpse was 
 that of the white-faced woman in black who had 
 knelt in the public streets in the gray of the pre- 
 ceding morn. Her face was even whiter tlian 
 then, and her form had settled quietly into the 
 mold of death; but the remembrance of that last 
 look of appeal to Heaven from the upturned 
 eyes, aud of those trembling upraieed handa to 
 the sky, haunted me strangely and fearfully as I 
 rushed away from the apartments of nameless 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Nameless here forever more." 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Yea, that is rather interesting," said a night- 
 watchman, to whom I related the preceding 
 story shortly after it occurred; " but I have hau 
 experiences which, as far as facts are concerned, 
 beat that all to nothing. 1 have beeu a night- 
 watchman on this Uook — Catherine Street— for 
 eighteen years, and, not naturally a sound sleep- 
 er, my eyes and ears have been open to many 
 strange things." 
 
 He then told me the story of " Lady Jane," 
 which I give iu my own lauguage, iu preference 
 to hia because of my superior understanding in 
 the use of words. 
 
 " Lady Jane " lived with a fire-boy named 
 " Jakey " in a Baxter Street tenement, and 
 helped to keep the domestic pot boiling by ped- 
 dling cheap chiuaware, which she usually ex- 
 changed for old clothing and dilapidated hats. 
 Jakey was a rough of the very worst sort, and 
 often beat her cruelly, besides chaatiaing her lit- 
 tle boy — a poor fouudling of about eleven years 
 — in the most brutal manner; but the woman al- 
 ways managed to keep herself so neatly clad 
 that she generally went by the name of " Lady 
 Jane " iu the wretched neighborhood in which 
 she lived. 
 
 No one could understand why she continued 
 to live with a man who uniformly treated her so 
 bad'y ;i.8 ilid JiiUey, anil wha, lioside boi'ig a 
 
 drunkard and a thief, was one of the moat worth- 
 less ruffians of his class. I'lirhapa it waa after 
 all that strange and mysterioiia growth of Love, 
 which in happier days had put forth its delicate 
 but iiuniutable tendrils, aud cemented the union 
 which neither adversity nor ill-treatment could 
 dissever; but at any rate she lived with him for 
 years, and ever atood up couragooualy between 
 Lim aud defamers. It was only when bo tried 
 to make a thief of her boy that the latent paasion 
 of her nature was aroused to a sturdy resist- 
 auco, which no abuse could trample under foot. 
 
 The boy hiiiisolf was none too good, but she 
 worked her fingers sore and walked her poor 
 feet tired to keep him at the district school and 
 out of mischief ; and the solitary nobility of the 
 child's character waa the absorbing love with 
 which ho repaid this tenderness and solicitude. 
 
 " My ' beat ' had included JJaxtor Street f*i' a 
 number of years," said my informant, " and I 
 was perfectly acquainted with both Lady Jane 
 and Jakey. I knew the latter to be no mor'n a 
 brute, and would mor'n onco have arrested him 
 for his cruelty toward her if ahe hadn't prayed 
 BO hard for him. But, after a bit, when ho made 
 such a dead set to make a pickpocket of her 
 young one, she used to como to mo often, and 
 ask my advice with the big tears starting from 
 her poor blue eyes, till I felt half inclined to 
 snivel myself. But all she could do waa no 
 good, and the mean-hearted villain succeeded at 
 last." 
 
 One night— it waa a wild and atormy night — 
 Lady Jano came to the night-watchman in a high 
 state of excitement. She had the appearance of 
 not having alept for many daya, and her look 
 waa haggard and distressed in the extreme. 
 Sho had not seen her boy for over a week. Jakey 
 waa laboring under a fit of delirium tremens, 
 and either would not or could not give her any 
 information concerning him. The night-watch- 
 man could have given a truthful account, in ex- 
 planation, but his heart was too tender for the 
 task. Ho waa addressing some soothing words 
 to the poor woman, when an inconsiderate neigh- 
 bor — Baxter Street neighbors, by the way, are 
 never very considerate -came up, and blundered 
 out the truth with cruel bluntuess. 
 
 " Never mind. Lady Jane," said he, " the boy 
 is probably better off w^here he ia, and it may 
 prove the lesson of a life-time." 
 
 " Where — where is he ? " she cried, with such 
 a sharp, agonizing inquisition in her tone that 
 the man started back confusedly. 
 
 She bent her wild glance on the honest fare of 
 tlie watchman, who could no longer disguise his 
 knowledge. 
 
 " You might as well know everything at once," 
 said he. "Jimmy picked an old gentleman's 
 pocket on the Third Avenue cars ten days ago, 
 and was sent to the Island for three months." 
 
 The woman started back as if ahe had received 
 a blow. 
 
 " To the Island — to the Island!" 
 
 Slie had probably heard the term with the ut- 
 moMl indifference many times before. The lad 
 for whom her mother's nature so yearningly 
 reached out was. by the very circumstances of 
 his birth, most Tikely a reproach to her. She 
 herself was, perhaps, fallen lower than most of 
 us can conceive; but all that was left of the an- 
 gel in her soul, every lingering element of virtu- 
 ous womanhood was" centered in and bound up 
 in the life of the young reprobate. 
 
 " To the Island — to the Island! " she continued 
 repeating wildly, aa if ahe could only partially 
 comprehend its meaning. 
 
 "Come home, you jade!" exclaimed a rough 
 voice behind her, and, turning, she beheld the 
 unkempt person of her brutal mate, with hia 
 hand raiaed threateningly. 
 
 But in those few momenta her entire nature 
 had undergone a great transformation, and fear 
 gave place to indignation aud fury. 
 
 " Wretch! hound! "' she screamed. " Toti sent 
 him there! The curse of a whole life of crime 
 will rest upon your head. But do not think that 
 you can keep him away from me! Curse you, 
 "curse you, curse you! " 
 
 He quickly recovered from the shock of her 
 first vehemence, and advanced toward her men- 
 acingly, but she struck him fiercely on the cheek, 
 and Mien fled up the dark street like a spectre. 
 
 It was already late; the storm was increasing, 
 and she was penniless; but her poor, worn heart 
 waa filled with an aimless idea that sho must be 
 nearer her boy. She walked on iu the dreni'h- 
 ing rain, aud reached the river's edge at the foot 
 of Sixtieth Street just as the dawn was breaking 
 dimly and redly through the storm. She could 
 see the long, narrow outline of BlackweU's Isl- 
 and immediately opposite, with its numerous 
 public buildings. "There was a small boat-land- 
 111..,- and I'll r in:ir llio i)oiiit \v!ii-n,' win- came upcii 
 
 the river's brink, aud ahe moved in a nervona, 
 purpoaclesB manner among the boat-chains, as 
 they clanked and jingled iu the turbulence of the 
 atream. 
 
 And now it waa that a strange coincidence — 
 strango and unuHual in any life-time — occurred 
 in tlio experience of this pjor woman, which 
 hardly seems real when one reads it in print. 
 
 While she was thiia luovinj^ aimlessly and 
 nervously among the boats, with Heaven only 
 knows how many wild tliouglits going out over 
 tho waters to the kindred spirit imprisijued on 
 the inland beyond, there was to bo seen an un- 
 usual commotion upon that very island. The 
 morning gleamed but dimly, hut lanterns were 
 to bo seen flashing hern and there, and jireseut- 
 ly shots were fired. Lady Jane strained her 
 eyes through the fog, but could make nothing 
 out. Some boatmen strayed down to the littlo 
 pier, and manitestod interest. She asked the 
 moaning of the novelty. They looked at her 
 draggled dress and generally wretched aiipear- 
 anco, and scarcely deigned a reply; but the fact 
 waa that some prisoners were endeavoring to 
 escape from the Island Penitentiary, and the 
 guards were firing at those who had got outside 
 the prison walls. 
 
 A wild, strange hope had sprung up in the 
 poor woman's heart, and she haunted the very 
 verge of the river, like a doubtful dream. 
 
 Tlie fo^ cleared and the newly-risen sun be- 
 gan to shine broadly and brightly on the waters. 
 Two convicts — she could easily distinguish them 
 in their striped prison-garb— were in a boat, and 
 rowing to tho marshy New York side most ener- 
 getically. She saw the official boat put off, and 
 capture them. 
 
 Another fugitive waa in the stream, and man- 
 fully swimming for the Manhattan shore. Tho 
 tide was coming in, and the waves were high, 
 from tho gale of the preceding night; but she 
 caught oue glimpse of the swimmer throiigli tlio 
 ragged edges of the mist, that still trailed lightly 
 over the crests of tho waves, and one glimpse 
 was enough. 
 
 It was her scapegrace of a child, breasting the 
 broad river to reacli her heart. The motlier was 
 wild. It seemed to her like a special dispensa- 
 tion of Providence in her behalf, aud her imagi- 
 nation magnified the coincidence twenty-fold. 
 Tho thought that he would be immediately re- 
 captured the moment he landed never seemed to 
 enter her mind for an instant. The present en- 
 grossed her entire being. She shrieked encour- 
 agement to him over the waters, and waved her 
 bonnet and shawl. She grasped a piece of iron 
 which lay on the landing, and endeavored to 
 beat one of the boats loose from ita fastening. 
 She at length succeeded, and, before they could 
 prevent her, sprang in, seized a broken oar, and 
 pushed off. 
 
 She knew nothing of the management of a 
 boat, and waa carried quickly out into the whirls 
 and eddies of the strong tide. 
 
 The boy's strength was rapidly becoming ex- 
 hausted, though he still buffeted the billows 
 manfully. 
 
 " Keep up, Jimmy, keep up! " screamed Lady 
 Jane, while another" boat put off from the shore 
 to the rescue. 
 
 But the boy's powers were spent. He gave 
 oue sharp cry: 
 
 "Mother! mother!" 
 
 Despair swept over his brave face, and he 
 sank. 
 
 She was within thirty feet of him at tho time; 
 and, with one wild ahriek, ahe leaped over the 
 gunwale of the boat, and disappeared below the 
 surface. 
 
 The bodies were not recovered untd near the 
 close of the same day, when they were found 
 near one of the lower piers, almost a mile fur- 
 ther down the stream, tossing wildly about on 
 the waves, but locked in a death-embrace, which 
 the wind and the waves could not dissever. 
 
 The man "Jakey" was killed in a street brawl, 
 not long afterward, and the above are the facie 
 in the night-watchman'a story. 
 
 I might have elaborated tliem indefinitely, but 
 they are tragic enough as they stand. 
 
 Fob the water supply of New Y'ork, an aque- 
 duct 40 miles long, costing $.30,000,000, poura 
 into reservoirs 60,000,000 gallons daily. The 
 total length of the Croton main pipes is over 313 
 miles. Tlie water is supplied to 6(5,925 buildings 
 occupied as dwellings and stores, 1,617 factories, 
 and 307 churches; and the yearly amount paid 
 for water rent is $1,319,544. 
 
 Or the 7,000,000 Jews in the world, 70,000 •'?Te 
 
 i:i New Y..lV. 
 
3.~» 
 o 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 KSAB FIVE FOIKTa. 
 
 POVERTY, CaiUE, AND DISEASE IN NEW 
 YOEK. 
 
 New York contains above a million of inhabit- 
 ants, of whom, as in overy other great city, the 
 majority are poor. But in no Christian commu- 
 nity in ihe world, probably, are the working peo- 
 ple BO inconvenienced by crowding and conse- 
 quent and inevitable association with social out- 
 casts, which, of course, affords a potent tempta- 
 tion to their own evil doing. The inhabitants of 
 healthful country homes, who have not inspected 
 any great cjty with a searching observation, can 
 form but an inadequate conception of what comes 
 under the eye of a resident in this metropolis, 
 led by curiosity or a better motive of philan- 
 thropy, to walk into streets and alleys, almost 
 crowded with dirty, noisy children; into un- 
 savory alleys, and up narrow stair-cases into 
 miserable apartments, where people are huddled 
 together without regard to health or decency. 
 Our illustrations give representations of the mis- 
 ery and vice of such quarters, whicti serve, per- 
 
 haps better than any verbal 
 description would do, to im- 
 press upon the mind of those 
 who tiave not seen for them- 
 aelves, under what circum- 
 Btances the poor of New York 
 live. 
 
 Who can wonder that such 
 physical conditions should 
 be largely associated with 
 moral degradation, and 
 should foster it ? There are, 
 doubtless, in Baxter Street 
 and the Five Points and simi- 
 lar neighborhoods, many 
 persons who, spite of adverse 
 influences, contrive to live 
 an honorable life. Such de- 
 serve all praise. But we 
 blush for the Empire City 
 that such a record as we arc 
 about to cite, disgraces its 
 history. 
 
 In nineteen years there 
 were in New York 881 re- 
 corded homicides, of which 
 679 were committed by per- 
 sons known, but not in every 
 instance punished, and 202 
 were committed by persons 
 unknown and never arrest- 
 ed. There are in New York 
 about 3,000 professional 
 thieves, including bank rob- 
 bers, burglars, dwelling- 
 house and chance sneaks, 
 panel thieves, forgers, shop- 
 lifters, pickpockets, confi- 
 dence men and receivers of 
 stolen goods. The casual 
 thieves are more numerouH 
 but less daring, rapacious 
 and successful. All the 
 thieves are estimated, from 
 sources more trustworthy 
 than the records kept in 
 Mulberry Street, to steal $6,- 
 500,000 yearly. The police 
 claim to restore to the owners 
 about $2,560,000 worth of 
 property a year; though 
 much of the property thus 
 reported has oeen lost in- 
 stead of stolen. Crediting 
 the whole of it as recovered 
 from thieves, there is still 
 left to the latter and their 
 " fences " a revenue of t3.- 
 940,000 directlv extracted 
 from the wealth of private 
 citizens. But this is not all 
 the thieves cost to the city. 
 The police and criminal ju- 
 dicial estAblishments, which 
 they render ueceBsarn^re 
 supported at an expe^R of 
 $3,212,000 more. This runs 
 up the co^ of the criminal 
 and disorderly claesea to $7- 
 000,000 a year. 
 
 The breeding-places of 
 murderers, thieves, forgers 
 and criminals of every grade 
 are: first, vicious homes; 
 second, liquor saloons; third, 
 lottery and policy shops; 
 fourth, gambling hells, and 
 filth, houses of prostitution. 
 Vicious homes in the poor 
 dietricta of the city are not 
 more certain to send forth the juvenile vaga- 
 bonds, pilferers and ruffians, who swarm in our 
 alleys, and are only partly gathered at the pub- 
 lic e"xpense into industrial schools and penitenti- 
 aries, than are vicious homes in the rich districts 
 to prepare indulged or neglected children for a 
 later career of infamy. The heel-taps swallowed 
 bv a profligate's son after his father's debauch at 
 table, and the sips of gin stolen by a gutter-snipe 
 from his drunken mother's jug, alike beget the 
 thirst for stimulants which leads the young 
 straight to saloons and rum-holes. From saloons 
 and rum-holes to brothels, low dance-houses, 
 faro-dens, keno-cellars, thieves' haunts and rat- 
 pits is an eaev descent. 
 
 Eight thousand places are licensed for the sale 
 of liquors. Most of them dispense the vilest 
 poisons. Many are music-halls, worse than the 
 old Broadway concert-saloons, and frequented 
 by the same class of scapegraces who were 
 ruined in those glittering aens. To some are 
 attached small (rambling-rooms, where scores of 
 habitual criminals and vagrants gather nightly 
 to prey upon one another and concoct all man- 
 
 ner of deviltries. At night the windows of these 
 places have the fascination of basilisk's eyes to 
 thousands upon thousands of the restless, tliirsty, 
 discontented poor. Some have money to buv'a 
 pint or a glass of the stuff in bottles labeled be- 
 fore them, but can illy afford it. Others have 
 not enough to pay for 'a night's lodging. Upon 
 this multitude descends the terrible temptation 
 to steal that they may drink — that they may buy 
 an hour or two of blmd forgetfulness. fivery 
 day's arrests show part of the direct results of 
 this temptation. If Mayhew's estimate be cor- 
 rect, that intoxicating liquors are an agent in 
 three-fourths of the crimes committed in large 
 cities, then the effects of bad liquor and of long- 
 ing for bad liquor in New York City are, accord- 
 ing to the pohce statistics, something fearful. 
 Of the 84,514 arrests in one year, including 63 for 
 homicide, 459 for burglary.'Sl for arson, 67 for 
 forgery, 119 for highway robbery, 1,503 for grand 
 larceny, 3G for robbery, the rest for every kind 
 of criminal offences, nearly 70,000 were trace- 
 able to persons more or less badly addicted to 
 drink. 
 
 Bum as a direct agent in the production of 
 criminals finds its chiet rivals, or rather its prin- 
 cipal co-partners, in the gambhng-hcUs, lottery- 
 offices and policy-shops. There are in the city 
 more than 700 places where gambling is con- 
 ducted and lottery and policy tickets are sold. 
 Gambhng-houses of different grades are fre- 
 quented by rich or well-to-do men, adventurers, 
 dupes and flush thieves. Their patrons are 
 comparatively few, and though they help many 
 foolish or desperate youngsters on to ruin, ther 
 are almost harmless when set in the nckle with 
 lotteries and policies. At faro, roulette, rouge- 
 et-noir, monte, or even keno, there is some 
 chance for the player to win his money back. A 
 lottery or a pohcy'shop affords but the ghost of 
 a chance, which is, however, sought daily by 
 hundreds of thousands of deluded people. The 
 lotteries, drawn in Havana, in Kentucky, and 
 elsewhere, offer fractions of tickets to all persons 
 who can afford to invest $2 to $20. This seduces 
 a large middle class, and a host of clerks, me- 
 chanics and domestic servants, both male and 
 female. The policy dealers strike lower down 
 into the very substratum of the community. Any 
 one may play policy in any way and "for any 
 amount he cnooses— from five cents up to five 
 dollars. This attracts laborers at the lowest 
 wages in every department of industry; nearly 
 the whole population of poor negroes; tiio lowest 
 grade of tenement-house denizens, half-starved 
 seamstresses, poor wretches reduced almost to 
 beggary. It makes no difference that the schemes 
 held out are fraudulent on their faces; that the 
 chance of drawing the lowest promised prize is 
 one in a hundred thousand; that the buyer of a 
 ticket or a fraction of a ticket has no security 
 and no proof that drawings are really had, or, if 
 had, are fair; that no one is known except by 
 rumor to have ever drawn a prize. The lure in 
 so much the more dazzling, font is in the nature 
 of the credulous and eager crowds who buy the 
 tickets to believe every one his own chance to 
 be the better, because the capital prize has not 
 yet been won! Weak men who have faith in 
 their luck; sharpers who believe in their cunning; 
 lazy men who hunger for riches without labor; 
 avaricious men who seek to add at small risk to 
 their big or Uttle hoards; sensitive men whose 
 family expenses are running them into debt; im- 
 pressionaule and superstitious men; blunt and 
 shabby inebriates; and then the vast army of the 
 lower classes iwho are always trembling on the 
 verge of starvation, always familiar with misery 
 and crime — these support the policy-shops. 
 Numbers of them become policy-drunk. As rich 
 men spend thousands a year in gambling and 
 the Wall Street lotteries, so members of the mid- 
 dle class sacrifice their incomes by hundreds, 
 and poor men their all, in the vain chase after 
 prizes that are never paid. Families are robbed 
 of food and clothmg, store-tills are rifled by 
 clerks; girls try their hands at shop-lifting, boys 
 at picking pockets and men at picking locks, that 
 policvmav be played again. Every year $1,500,- 
 000 IS withdrawn from productive industry and 
 sunk in lotteries and policy-shops, and every 
 year, too, more crimes and more criminals out- 
 crop from this infernal trade. 
 
 Rum and Policy! Eight thousand gin-millM 
 and seven huudre"d policy-phops! These make 
 yearly one hundred thousand offenders against 
 the laws. "Break up the gin-mills, or at least 
 break up all of them that do not deal in the 
 purest, most expensive liquors, and extirpate the 
 pohcy men," said recently a judge who ought to 
 know as much of the criminal classes as any man 
 among us, " and you kill off three-fourths of the 
 crime in New Y'ork." 
 
 Who are the policy men ? It is easy to find out 
 
THEGRKAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 37 
 
 the policy dealers. The police, who suffer them 
 to deal despite the law, know them well, and 
 any citizen who chooses to inquire in his ward 
 may know them. But who are the " men " who 
 furnish tlie capital of about $2,000,000 which is 
 necessary to the carrying on of the busmess— to 
 pay rents, printing bills, occasional catch-prizes: 
 to keep the whole Police Department's hands off 
 their trade, and hands on the trade of rival deal- 
 ers to suppress it; to influence judges, and blind- 
 fold the District-Attorney's office, and make the 
 statutes against gambhng mere mockeries and 
 shams ? Who form this powerful combination, 
 which monopohzes, right under the noses of our 
 respectability, the most monstrous, the most ne- 
 farious, and the most profitable traffic except the 
 liquor traffic, in New York ? From their spoil 
 here in open day hundreds of flash equipages 
 and notorious women are supported. Besides 
 the 5,000 or 6,000 harlots hving in houses of ill- 
 fame and using houses of assignation, others are 
 sustained in luxurious apartments, every one at 
 the expense of a dozen frugal families. The 
 temptation to vice which these splendid instances 
 of fortune hold out to many young women is so 
 potent that year alter year there occur disap- 
 
 A TEiNKMK.NT H(MSE. 
 
 pearances of daughters from respectable homes 
 which are never reported lor the press, and 
 which the police are paid by parents as well as 
 by procurers for keeping secret. 
 
 Deprivation, crowding and vice produce dis- 
 ease, and we sometimes wonder if any one thinks 
 how many sick people the city contains. Such 
 an inquiry would liardly bo suggested by the 
 stream of human life which fills the street. It 
 were, indeed, hard to believe that there is a 
 sufficient number of invalids here to equal the 
 population of many good liized cities. One rea- 
 son for this vast number is that we not only liave 
 the victims of local disease, but also nuillitndea 
 who come to bo treated for maladies beyond the 
 skill of country physicians. Practitioners in 
 great cities; can pursue specialties and by this 
 means secure great skill and repute. This is a 
 sufficient reason why so many difficult cases find 
 their way to Now Yo'rk. During the year about 
 3,000 of this class of unfortunates come hither, 
 and their expenses vary from $300 to ten limes 
 that sum. Our medical profession derives at 
 least half a million annually from this migration. 
 What is miioli warned line is an invalid hotel. 
 We mean an establishment uniting the character- 
 
 istics of a hotel and a hospital, where the sick 
 could come with the assurance of a proper re- 
 ception. A house of this kind, if undertaKen by 
 a man of enterprise and skill, would be highly 
 profitable, as well as a great public benefit. 
 
 New York has by no means the hospital ac- 
 commodation which 80 vast a population re- 
 quires. While the city has doubled in popula- 
 tion its hospitals have'notbeen proportionately 
 enlarged. The vei-y best institution of thc«kind 
 (as many think) in "this city is only open to pau- 
 pers. This 18 Bellevne, whose situation on the 
 margin of the East River afiords fresh air, a lux- 
 ury seldom here enjoyed even by the rich. At 
 this place a thousand puticnts are accommodated 
 with the best of treatment. The pauper while in 
 health is of small account, but as soon as he be- 
 comes ill he receives careful attention. Such 
 are the attractions of this place that we Jiave 
 heard of men feigning sickness in order to ob- 
 tain admission, and during the winter the ex- 
 amining physician is compelled to refuse many 
 applications of tliis character. 
 
 Bellevne contains a number of cells devoted 
 to cases of ddirium tremens, and at this time of 
 general intemperance they are tull. Any one who 
 
38 
 
 Ti-lJE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 
 # /? '' 
 
 ilii ^^_*^-a¥^ 
 
 |bc 
 
 BATCTEB BTREBT QTIABTERB. 
 
 cares to witness the horrible fautaaiea which at- ! 
 tend the closing bcciiph of the drunkard's life can 
 thus find dally opportuiiitieH. All classes are 
 found here, and the scL-nos oiten witiieseed tran- 
 cend description. These cases are carefully 
 kratched to prevent suicide. Some time ago a 
 Ifine looking young play-actor hung himselt 
 in one of these cells during the al)8tnce of 
 the attendant. Seldom have been seen anything 
 more fearfully illustrativo of the druukard'a fate 
 than the scenes which have been common in 
 these places of detention, and which so frequent- 
 ly invoke suicide as a relief. Bellevue Hospital 
 is connected with the other great charities of the 
 city which are located on the adjacent islands, 
 BUch as Blackwell's Island, Ward's Island etc., 
 and all are under the control of a Board of Com- 
 missioners. The medical and surgical attend- 
 ance employed here includes the best talent of 
 the city. 
 
 It May be that there are in this citv 50,000 inva- 
 lids, one-third of whom are confined to their bed. 
 AUny of these are among the poor, and an in- 
 itlite" of a tenement-houee can hardly expect the 
 
 care which a sick bed re- 
 quires. Unless they get into 
 the hospital their chances of 
 recovery are small. A wash- 
 erwoman or mechanic may 
 struggle for a while with the 
 first attack of the disease, but 
 when reduced to the be'l 
 they seldom rise. First-class 
 physicians dislike to practice 
 among the poor. Medical 
 caste runs very high, and a 
 practitioner's standing is 
 marked according to the 
 wealth and social position of 
 bia patients. 
 
 The visit of mercy is all 
 very well, and if a physician 
 can devote a portion " of his 
 time iu this manner it is ad- 
 mired as a fine trait, but if he 
 practice amoug the common 
 classes in a common manner 
 he will rank accordingly. 
 The poor enjoy the benefit of 
 the dispensary system, which 
 is of great value. These es- 
 tablishments afford prescrip- 
 tions and also vaccination. 
 One of them issued 85,000 
 prescriptions in a year, and 
 the invariable spectacle at 
 their gates of coniblued pov- 
 erty and disease is of a very 
 moving character. 
 
 It is time we bad an insti- 
 tution for the education of 
 nurses. While there arc 
 thousands of people out of 
 Bm])loyment, comprising 
 clerksj mechanics, literati 
 and professional men, there 
 is now employment for hun- 
 dreds of nurses, and it may 
 he added that a good nurse 
 is one of the rarest attend- 
 ants. A very large propor- 
 1 1 o n of oiir professional 
 nurses know but little of their 
 hnsinoss. 
 
 This is peculiarly true of 
 those of the male sex, maiiv 
 of whom amuse the dull 
 hours of a sick room bv 
 strong diink. Not one hall 
 ol this class can be relied on 
 to administer medicine in a 
 proper manner, and a phy- 
 sician's directions are Bolduin 
 carried out. Hence, in im- 
 portant cases the latter re- 
 main in attendance as long 
 as possible. It is sometimes 
 found that nurses are abu- 
 sive and cruel to the sick, 
 which arises from impatience 
 and .irritability. More than 
 this, they are Homctimes sus- 
 
 Eected ol foul i>lav. We once 
 card of a gentleman who 
 believed that a person who 
 nursed his daughter had 
 poisoned her. He desired to 
 exhume the corpse for ex- 
 amination, but this was never 
 done, and the mystery of a 
 budden death never w a s 
 solved. He believed that the 
 jealousy of a rival in respect 
 to prospective matrimony 
 had led to a corruption of the nurse. It certain- 
 ly would be easy for one of this class to poison a 
 patient, and since people use so many ways to 
 get rid of their friends, it would not bo surpris- 
 ing if this were adopted. 
 
 At the hospital the pay m the female wards is 
 $1G per month for those nev^ly engaged; but as 
 soon as they acquire experience the rate is ad- 
 vanced. Many voung women from the country 
 seek this sorvice", because the pay is better than 
 that of more housework, and tue chance of pro- 
 motion is attractive. " Monthly nurses," as they 
 are termed, receive $50 a month and sometimes 
 more. Male nurses demand from $25 to $40 per 
 week. This may seem large pay, but when one 
 considers the importance of their duty it is not a 
 surprising rate. The question with the patiint 
 is. What is health worth to him? There are 
 nurses here who are paid $10 per day. If a mil- 
 lionaire be in need of one of this class it makes 
 little difference what rate is demanded. He 
 wants the best allv in fighting disease, and the 
 cost is a matter" of small importance. Many 
 good nurses are found amongthe colored peoph-, 
 
 and $13 per day is a common rate for men. If 
 nurses could be educated lor their duty, it woulit 
 assist physicians in a verv material' manner. 
 Nursing is a very trving employment. It requiris 
 not only a watchful and judicious mind, uut n 
 sense of duty such as is seldom found. A first- 
 class nurse is a rare character, and should be 
 highly prized, and to such the words of the poet 
 may be'applied, " On some fond breast the part- 
 ing" soul relies." 
 
 The last act in the drama of life affords em- 
 ployment to large numbers, and when one enters 
 the precincts of disease and death he is brought 
 into contact with a new element of society. Here 
 IS the apothecary, whose plate glass, porcelain 
 jars and enormotis rent are to be paid out of the 
 profits levied on the sick and the dymg. The 
 druggist differs from all other tradesmen in one 
 point — his expectation is not so much large sales 
 as large pVotits. A New York apothecary who 
 retails annually $6,000 worth of goods will realize 
 as much profit as a grocer who takes in ten times 
 that amount. Some drug shops do not attain 
 even the moderate figure quoted, and sul>eist on 
 an incredibly small amount of trade. In some 
 cases they add medical practice. In this State 
 any man ' who can find a patient can act as a 
 physician, being only liable in case of malprac- 
 tice. The facility with which one may enter the 
 profession is illustrated by the case of a German 
 tailor, who suddenly exchanged the goose for the 
 lancet, and put up the Esculapian sign. Being 
 called to troat a skull fracture he put on a plas- 
 ter, and said the patient would in a short time 
 be well again. 
 
 » ♦ ■ 
 
 SPLENDID WEDDINQS. 
 
 Ma. James Pabtoji thus moralizes upon the 
 magnificent weddings for which New York has 
 become famous: 
 
 In all lands, from time immemorial, marriage 
 has been celebrated as a festival. Most people 
 who have passed the noonday of life, on looking 
 back over the scenes of other days, will admit 
 that their wedding-day, besides being the most 
 important, was also the happiest they have 
 known. It is the day for which all the previous 
 davs are preparatory. 
 
 'ro the whole circle of relations and friends it 
 is tlie most interesting of domestic events. Pa- 
 rents find in it the fruition of their most cherished 
 hopes. The bride realizes the dream of her ex- 
 istence. To the bridegroom it is more than joy- 
 ful; it is victory and distinction. He expeiiences 
 something of the exultation of the barbarian 
 chief who Swoops down upon a village, mounted 
 upon his best horse, ana bears off in triumph 
 the belle ol the tribe. Others may have wooed, 
 but he has won; and there she stands by his side 
 a crowned and willing prize. He has tnumiihed, 
 too, over circumstances. He has gained Ihb 
 footing in the world. In the battle of life, in the 
 contest for fortune, he has won a partial victory, 
 which affords a lair assurance of full and final 
 triumph. 
 
 So universally interesting is marriage that tbe 
 two popular branches of art, fiction and the 
 drama, are chiefly devoted to it. Nearly every 
 novel IS the history of a marriage, and almost 
 all plays exhibit scenes in the progress of a love 
 and end on the eve of a wedding. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, is more in accord with tlie 
 nature ol things than that marriage should be 
 the occasion of festivity. It is a melancholy thing 
 to see two or three, or"half a dozen people sneak 
 into a clergj-man's house after darlc, and stand 
 up in the gloom of one kerosene lamp while he 
 ties the indissoluble knot. A wedding should 
 occur in the bright and hopeful morning. Flow- 
 ers, gay costume, fresh decoration, and the pres- 
 ence of friends should combine to render the 
 scene memorablv picturesque and delightful. 
 
 Why, then, is it that these gorgeous and costly 
 weddings in New York, which block 'ip the streets 
 and crowd the fashionable churches, strike such 
 a chill to the heart, and fill the mind of one who 
 knows something of human life with gloomy fore- 
 bodings? " Two thousand dollars' worth of flow- 
 ers!" " Fifty thousand dollars' worth of pres- 
 ents!" The "ceremony performed by a cardinal! 
 There has been a run upon the carclinal of late. 
 It has been even eurniised that the chaiico of 
 being married by a cardinal is among the reasons 
 that convince some minds of the superior claims 
 of the ancient church. 
 
 All this is offensive because it seems false. It 
 does not appear to be an expression of honest 
 joy in the crowning triumph of young life, nor 
 the amiable desire of a happv family to share its 
 happiness with a wide circle of friends. The 
 guests and spectators do not fill the church and 
 ci-.ind the house because they wish well to the 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 39 
 
 loverB, aud desire to witneaa tbo epectaclo of 
 , tboir happiucsa. Thurc is aa air of oetoutatiou 
 aboat the whole affiiir. It looka like au explu- 
 Biou of conipresBcil vanity. Men gaze upon the 
 »how witli vacani wondVr, a-id as tliey iHsuo 
 from the liot and crowdfd lionse, whisper to onu 
 another, as they think of the brideRrooni Btand- 
 lux in a cloud of lace aud siitiu: " I'oor devil!" 
 
 I confess that these are the precise words that 
 escape my lips as often us I have the pain of bc- 
 lioldmg one of these splendid wcddmgs. The 
 iiiii/i seems overwliulmed, lost, forgotten. Ho 
 has the appearance of lieuig a sort of an appnr- 
 touauce to the show— indispensable, but not de- 
 sired, and of small account. The real object of 
 the occasion appears to be to make a bewilder- 
 ing exhibition of the most costly aud unbecoming 
 wearing apparel which the pi-rvertcd ingenuity 
 of man has ueeu able to produce. A vision rises 
 before my mind as I write tliese words of a bride 
 I saw entering Grace Churcli with a traiu so long 
 that she had crossed the tlircshold of the edifice 
 before the train had all got out of the carriage. 
 Language cannot convey au idea how small, how 
 iusigniflcant, how ridiculous the bridegroom 
 looked in the midst of that great tasteless spread 
 of while fabric. 
 
 Poor devil, indeed! When, at last, the wed- 
 ding show is over — wheu the last spectator has 
 departed, aud the married couple find them- 
 selves aloue, what is it that he receives to his 
 arms ? Is it a happy and loving woman I After 
 six weeks of incessant toil and worry, otten con- 
 tinued far into the night, t<he sinks exhatisted in 
 the briditl chamber, completely realizing Charles 
 Reade's description of a spent female, " live feet 
 eight of human jelly, crowned with a headache." 
 
 Aud it is ]us doom to waste life in the wild en- 
 deavor to keep up that barbaric and vulgar mag- 
 nificence! 
 
 GAMBLING IN WALL STREET. 
 
 Wall, Street has been called the pulse of the 
 financial system, aud the expression is not alto- 
 gether inapplicable. In a healthv body the pulse 
 does Its work so quietly that tno person is not 
 conscious that he has a pulse, and experiences 
 some difficulty iu fludiug it. But wheu we are 
 sick, the pulse changes its character, often be- 
 coming rapid, and even violent. The doctor, as 
 soon as he enters, puts his fingers upon it, and 
 learns much of the condition of the patient from 
 the state in which he finds it. 
 
 An exaggerated Wall Street has always been a 
 bad sign in this country. As far back as 1836, 
 when the war of President Jackson against the 
 United States Bank had resulted in giving a sud- 
 den and unnatural increase of strength to the 
 State Banks, causing inflation and wild specula- 
 tion in land, Wall Street became the center ol 
 Eublio interest. James Gordon Bennett, an am- 
 itious young journalist, who had just started 
 the Herald, perceived the fact, and, to meet the 
 public want, invented the "Money Article," 
 which has ever since been a feature of American 
 iourualism. Scores of young men ^opened bro- 
 ker's offices, and space in Wall Street doubled in 
 value. 
 
 It was the same in General Washington's day, 
 wheu Alexander Hamilton's policy had led to a 
 similar inttation. Letters of that time record that 
 tailors laid aside the needle to speculate in gov- 
 ernment paper, and ships rotted at the wharves 
 because merchants thought they could employ 
 iheir capital more profitably lu bank shares than 
 m commerce. A very few months sufficed to 
 bring both these inflations to a most disastrous 
 collapse. 
 
 Never was Wall Street so enormously exag- 
 gerated, so excited, so tumultuous, as during 
 the inflation of the war, when gold was going 
 up with alarming rapidity towards three hun- 
 dred. No one who saw it then can ever forget it. 
 The street itself, the adjacent lanes, the gold 
 room, the Broker's Exchange, the very steps and 
 areas, were all crowded with a mob of madmen, 
 shouting, bawling, bellowing; and when evening 
 came the scene of operations was transferred to 
 the Fifth Avenue Hotel and its vicinity-, where 
 the same wild gambling was kept up till mid- 
 night. From that dav to this. Wall Street has 
 shrunk and shriveled when times have been 
 good, but it has expanded when times have beeu 
 bad. There was a period during the first term 
 of General Grant when hundreds of brokers, and 
 even a considerable number of " bankers," were 
 starved out, aud there was a prospect of the 
 street being reduced to the limits required by the 
 business of the country. 
 
 Wall Street has spread all over the countrv. 
 Its business is now so arranged that a barber's 
 apprentice in Bangor or a billiard marker in 
 
 Nashville can speculate in Wall Street without 
 leaving his abode. Any fool who can raise ten 
 dollars can lose it in Wall Street, though he live 
 beyond the Koeky Mountains. I was assured 
 the other day by a gentleman who has done busi- 
 ii''8» in Wall Street for many years, that the num- 
 ber of persons who habitually gamble in this 
 way IS not less than one hundred aud fifty thou- 
 sand! 
 
 Astounded at this incredible statement. I have 
 since made further inquiries, and watched the 
 long string of advertisements daily inserted by 
 people who sell " puts," "calls," " straddles," 
 " privileges," and other cheap Wall Street ware. 
 I have also read various small books giving ad- 
 vice as to the purchase of such commodities. It 
 is evident that the circle of Wall Street gamblers 
 has become ininienso. 
 
 I beg to state one fact for the benefit of those 
 who may bo inclined to try their liickiu a "put," 
 or a " call,"' or a " privilege," or a " straddle.' 
 
 Wall Street ia now governed by a few men— a 
 very few men, say, four — and these men have 
 the movements in the speculative stockd so en- 
 tirely under their control, that no outside specu- 
 lator can make any money. It ia just as impos- 
 sible as it is to make money by playing against 
 the bank in a gambling house. You may win 
 one stake, or two, or three; but you are certain 
 to lose ifyou keep on. It is as certain as arith- 
 metic. 'Thoso four men work the market up till 
 they have drowned out all tbo young bears; then 
 they work it down till all the young bulls are 
 engulfed. Be you bull or bo you boar, stake ten 
 dollars or put up a " margin " of ten thousand, 
 you must lose ! The whole affair is cut aud dried. 
 It is managed by men who are more familiar 
 with the street than any farmer ever was with 
 his own barn. They control millions, and every 
 dollar of thoso millions was brought into the 
 street by people who thought they would " ti-y 
 their luck in Wall Street." 
 
 A GLOSSARY OF WALL STREET PHRASES. 
 
 Those interested in stock speculations will 
 find the following vocabulary of terras used in 
 Wall Street worth remembermg: 
 
 Bear market — When the market is heavy aud 
 falling, aud lower prices are expected, in conse- 
 quence of the efforts of the " bear." 
 
 Bear the market — i. e., operate for a decline. 
 A bear is naturally "short" of stocks, and ex- 
 pecting to profit by a decline. 
 
 Borrowing and loaning stocks— When a party 
 has sold stock short aud has not bought in by 
 the time the delivery must be made, he ' ' bor- 
 rows " the stock for the purpose of making the 
 delivery, paying the owner the market price on 
 demand, or at fixed time, the lender of the stock 
 paying the borrower an agreed rate of interest 
 on the money, or the borrower paying the lender 
 an agreed premium for the use of the stock, as 
 the case may be. 
 
 Cover, to "cover one's shorts" — Where stock 
 has been sold short and the seller buys it in to 
 realize his profit, or to protect himself from loss, 
 or to make his delivery. This is "covering 
 short sales." 
 
 A call — The privilege obtained, fur a consider- 
 ation, of calling for a certain number of shares 
 of stock, at a given price, within a time named. 
 
 Carrying stock— Holding stock by a broker for 
 his customers on a margin. 
 
 Clique— A combination of operatoi-s formed for 
 the purpose of anificially influencing the market 
 by tneir combined operations. 
 
 Comer — When the market is oversold, the 
 shorts, if compelled to deliver, sometimes find 
 themselves in a "corner. ' 
 
 Curbstone brokers— Men who are not mem- 
 bers of any regular organization, and do business 
 mainly upon the sidewalk. 
 
 Flyers — Is a small side operation, not employ- 
 ing one's whole capital, or not iu the line of ms 
 ordinary operations. 
 
 Lamb — A very green "outsider" who essays 
 stock speculation. 
 
 Limited order — An order to buy and sell with- 
 in a certaiu fixed price, above or below which the 
 party giving the order does not wish to go. 
 
 Margins — Where one buys or sells for specula- 
 tion, and deposits with his broker a percentage 
 of value to enable the latter to " carry ' the stock 
 and protect him against loss from fluctuations in 
 value. 
 
 Milking the streets — The act of cliques or great 
 operators who hold certain stock so well in hand 
 that they cause any fluctuations they please. By 
 alternately lifting and depressing prices, they 
 "milk" tiie Biuall operators and the outside. 
 
 Put— To buy a "put" is to obtain the right. 
 
 for a consideration, to deliver a stock at a certain 
 agreed price within a given number of days. 
 
 Stop order — An order to -lell out stock in case 
 it should decline to a ccrlain price i^r to buy 
 short stock in case it slioulil iidvaiicc to a certain 
 price. A means adopted by a party "long" or 
 
 short" of a stock to limit Ins loss to a certain 
 figure. 
 
 Turn stocks -(/'(msiHts in buying for cush or 
 regular way and selling a like aiiioiint of the 
 same stock at tli(! same time, on " <>[)tiou," then;- 
 by making six per cent, interest and difference 
 that may oxixt at the time between the market 
 price of the stock for cash and iin option; or sell- 
 ing for cash and buying on option, when the 
 stock is hard to carry and the holder, hoping lor 
 a rise, docs not want to get out of it. 
 
 Washing — la where one broker arranges wit It 
 another to pay a certain stock when ho offers it 
 tor sale. Ihc bargain is fictitidiis, and the ef- 
 fort, when not detected, is to keep it quoted and 
 afford a basis for bona-fido sales. It is not ooun- 
 tenanced by the rules of exchange, and if discov- 
 ered renders members engaged in it liable to the 
 penalty of expulsion. 
 
 THE FAMOUS FOURTH WARD. 
 
 There is scarcely a district of this city, em- 
 braced in what was known as the limits of a 
 ward, that has witnessed so many radical changes 
 as the " old Fourth Ward." Owing to political 
 alterations whicli have made Aldermauic dis- 
 tricts in New York City, what were formerly 
 known as "ward lines" have been nearly 
 obliterated, and few, except it be the older resi- 
 dents, can tell anything of their former bound- 
 eries. The Fourth Ward bad its limits bounded 
 by Peck Slip, Ferry and Spruce Streets on one 
 side; Chatham Street and Square on another; 
 Catherine Street and the East Itiver on the thinl 
 and fourth. Within these limits resided until 
 recently a very large number of persons; but 
 this is likely to be entirely changed if the pres- 
 ent and proposed improvements are carried out. 
 
 A little over two hundred years ago the greater 
 part of this district was a swamp, aud by that 
 name a portion of it is now known. A creek ran 
 along the line of the present Roosevelt Street, 
 and was crossed by a rustic bridge at Chatham 
 Street. At about this time nearly one-half of the 
 ward, or that portion embraced within the region 
 now bounded by Roosevelt, Oak, Ferry, and 
 other streets and the East River, was sold at 
 public auction for £60, and ten years later at 
 private sale for £70. The deeds tor these sales 
 are still preserved. This was at about the close 
 of the Dutch rule, or the beginning of the British 
 government of the island, and at a time when the 
 city proper was below the lino of Wall Street. 
 At a later period the elevated portions of thi.'» 
 district began to attract attention, and sites were 
 selected by wealthy persona for rural residences 
 with grounds attached. General Latham, the 
 Waltons and others erected what were then pa- 
 latial residences, with grounds extending to or 
 overlooking the quiet waters of the East River. 
 In those days there were no ferries or steam- 
 boats. The Latham mansion was situated with- 
 in a handsome piece of ground on Cherry Hill, 
 the name having been given to the spot by the 
 beautiful cherry orchards which flourished there. 
 This house, which still stands, was erected about 
 the year 1700, and has walls nearly three feet 
 thick. Cherry Street gained its name through 
 beginning at the top of Cherry Hill. 
 
 As the city extended northward the bridge 
 over the creek before alluded to was the con- 
 necting link between city and country, but it « as 
 not until shortly before the Revolution that the 
 Fourth Ward began to rise as a special neighbor- 
 hood, when the aristocracy of the city chose to 
 erect buildings on Pearl and Cherry Streets. .At 
 this time the shipbuilding interests were located 
 at the upper end of what is now Cherry Stn-it. 
 along which the British officials used to pa-a 
 when on the way to the Government yards. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution many of tlio 
 principal personages of the city had located 
 themselves in the Second and Fourth Wards, 
 and when George Washington was inaugurated 
 President in Wall Street both he and Govrrnor 
 Clinton resided on what is now known as Frank- 
 lin Square, at the junction of Pearl and Cherry 
 Streets. Several other persons of note resided 
 in the vicinity, and the members of the Society 
 of Friends, or Quakers, occupied a number of 
 houses in this neighborhood. Owing to the nar- 
 row streets, winch were tbo custom of the time, 
 and the small size of the houses — they being 
 mostly two stories in height, with au under- 
 ground basement, reached generally bv steps 
 from the sidewalks covered at night with slant- 
 
40 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CLTY. 
 
 ing cellar flaps of wood, a few baviag low gable 
 roofs with attics — the buildings were nearly all 
 occupied by one family each. Some attempt at 
 a garden was made behind many of these houses, 
 but the ground is now covered with rear dwell- 
 ings reached through alleyways. The houses 
 were built very strongly, as they were intended 
 to last for more than one lifetime. 
 
 About fifty years ago a great change took place 
 in the Fourth Ward. The aristocratic and better 
 class of inhabitants moved into the Fifth and 
 Seventh Wards, and their former abodes were 
 occupied by a lower stratum of society, which 
 herded together until the region became very 
 populous. It soon had a bad reputation, and 
 was generally known as the " Bloody Fourth," 
 on account of the numerous sanguinary affrays 
 and murders which occurred therein. Owing to 
 the narrow streets and numerous alleys a crim- 
 mal was easily enabled, by slipping into the 
 crowded dwellings, to elude pursuit, and it was 
 as macb as au officer's life was worth to attempt 
 the capture of one in the Fourth Ward. Tam- 
 many Hall and tho "Pewter Mug" were the po- 
 litical headquarters of many of this class, and 
 they were both located in the Fourth Ward. A 
 notorious place at the junction of Duane, Cham- 
 bers, and Chatham Streets, designated the In- 
 ternatioual Hotel, was the resort of the most de- 
 praved men, and at election times was the scene 
 of many serious disturbances. On the site of 
 this now stands the " Newsboys Lodging House," 
 a fine structure. 
 
 The cutting through of New Chambers Street 
 swept away many oftho dens of vice in the " old 
 Fourth Ward," and by giving a broad thorough- 
 tare enabled the police easily to aid each other in 
 times of disturbance, and made the chances of 
 retreat for criminals less available by rendering 
 
 fiolice pursuit more practicable. The health 
 aws also drove many from their fever stricken 
 abodes in the attics and underground basements 
 of these old houses, and rendered the buildings 
 more healthy by limiting tho number of persons 
 to the size of the premises occupied. This action 
 caused many to move into uptown districts on 
 the East side, where tenement houses had been 
 erected suitable to families of very moderate 
 means, and thus tiio dense population was par- 
 tially decreased and dispersed. 
 
 A great change is now going on in the Fourth 
 Ward, whereby houses never intended for tene- 
 ments, although occupied by several families, 
 are being torn down under the orders, in many 
 cases, of the Chief of the Bureau of Buildings. 
 The sites of those houses are being replaced with 
 large storehouses or premises to be used for 
 manufacturing or business purposes. Tho con- 
 struction of the Brooklyn Bridge caused many 
 old buildings to disappear along tho line of the 
 approach, and as tho arches are to be used as 
 storehouses for leather, etc., the pew buildings 
 along Frankfort Street are being constructed for 
 similar purposes. Along Pearl Street many new 
 buildings for manufacturing enterprises have 
 been erected, and it is proposed, when the pres- 
 ent leases expire, to tear down the old fashioned 
 dwellings along that street and the adjoining 
 thoroughfares, and turn them also into similar 
 establishment for business. Rose and Vande- 
 water Streets are thus being changed rapidly. 
 It is believed by many of tlie old inhabitants 
 that in a few years there will be as few actual 
 residents in the Fourth Ward as are in the old 
 Second and Third Wards, now mainly occupied 
 by offices and business premises. 
 
 EMPLOYMENT IN THE CITY. 
 
 A LAROE proportion of all the young men and 
 young women who come to New York to get em- 
 ployment belong to tho class that have no ac- 
 quired skill in anything, and no distinct ideas as 
 to what they are good for. Perhaps they adver- 
 tise that they " would bo willing to engage in any 
 respectable business." But employers do not 
 rusu after those who have no specialty, who 
 have spent their early youth without discovering 
 an aptitude for some one calling, and cultivating 
 such honest ambition to excel in it as would lead 
 to practical qualification. It is these nothings in 
 particular who are a constant dead weight on the 
 Christian associations. There may be a list of 
 applicants with responsible situations to be 
 filled, and numbers of persons wanting situa- 
 tions; but you cannot fill a square hole with a 
 round sticli, nor hcU wool in the fleece to a man 
 in immediate need of a coat. 
 
 The wealth and competition in cities and large 
 towns make the struggle for the " survival of the 
 fittest" a hard one for the workman in tho raw. 
 However great the demand for labor, the in- 
 
 stances are rare in which there is not a steady 
 oversupply in all departments. This enables 
 employers to make careful selections. They 
 cannot afford to hire incompetent hands even at 
 low wages. If they do, they are apt to find the 
 cheapest the dearest, at the same time that the 
 unlearned workman is finding out that the short- 
 est way across is the longest way around. 
 
 THE STREET MUSICIANS. 
 
 Okb day, through a narrow and noisome street, 
 
 Where naught but squalor and poverty greet 
 
 The passer-by. 4 chanced to stray. 
 
 'Twas a mellow and bright October day, 
 
 A genial autumn sun shone down 
 
 On rich and j)oor in that crowded town; 
 
 And over the house-tops a deep blue sky 
 
 Greeted each beggar's upturned eye. 
 
 While the very heavens seemed to smile 
 
 His hunger and weariness to beguile. 
 
 Bare-headed children, ragged and free, 
 
 Over the curbstones romped In glee. 
 
 Lazily by, a policeman walked; 
 
 Shop-men stood In their doors and talked; 
 
 Now and then, with a glance downcast, 
 
 Some wreck of a sot went staggering past. 
 
 With a trembling form and a visage wan; 
 
 Yet the current of life went flowing on; 
 
 And the sky was blue, and the sunlight fell 
 
 On the happy ones and the sad as well. 
 
 But hark! through that narrow and crowded street, 
 
 Of a sudden there poured a melody sweet. 
 
 A volume of soft harmonious sound 
 
 Strangely contrasting with all around; 
 
 And 1 pa"u3ed to listen, while each sweet note, 
 
 Pure as a warbling from robin's throat, 
 
 Seemed to float on the Idle air 
 
 To attic, and cellar, and crazy stair. 
 
 And carry a whisper of peace and rest 
 
 Wherever it went on its pathway blest. 
 
 " Sweet and low, sweet and low, 
 
 Wind of the western sea. 
 Low, low, l)reatlie and blow, 
 
 Wind of the western sea! 
 Over the rolllUK waters go, 
 Come from the dying moors, and blow, 
 Blow hi in again to me; 
 While my little one, while my pretty one 
 sleeps."' 
 
 'Twas a strolling minstrel band of four 
 
 Who, standing before a groggery door. 
 
 With piilTed out cheeks and beating feet 
 
 Were playing there in that busy street, 
 
 Vagabonds, they, no doubt; in fact 
 
 Tlielr garb was "ragged, the trumpets cracked. 
 
 And they looked like men who seliloni knew 
 
 What 'twas to own a dollar or two. 
 
 Yet, spite of this, as I listened there 
 
 "To the sweet soft notes of the plaintive air 
 
 That came from those minstrels, ragged and odd, 
 
 1 thought, " 'Tis a message sent from Ood, 
 
 Bringing reminders pure and sweet. 
 
 To the poor sad souls in this narrow street." 
 
 Then the little children over the way 
 
 Looked and wondered and stopped their play, 
 
 And the ofllccr paused In his weary walk, 
 
 Willie the gossiping shop-men ceased to talk: 
 
 And from tenement wiiulows all about, 
 
 There was many a weary face peeped out 
 
 And smiled at the joy that had suddenly come 
 
 To cheer Its poverty-stricken home. 
 
 Out of the groggery, reeling, came 
 
 Into the sunlight (oh, for shame!) 
 
 One whose visage ami mien bespoke 
 
 A dreadful bondage to liquor's yoke— 
 
 A soul of honor and pride liereft. 
 
 Yet there were traces of manhood left. 
 
 And as the music reached his ear 
 
 He, slagireriiiB, paused — then lingered near. 
 
 Abashed and doul)ting— then gave a start, 
 
 For the melody sweet had touched his heart; 
 
 Those strains, so plaintive and soft and low, 
 
 Recalled the lullaby, long ago 
 
 That his mother In tones so sweet and mild 
 
 Had sung to him as a little child. 
 
 "Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 
 Father will come to thee soon; 
 Rest, rest, on mother's Ijreast, 
 
 Father will come to thee soon: 
 Father will come to his bat)e In the nest, 
 Silver sails all out of the west 
 Under the silver moon. 
 Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, 
 sleep!" 
 
 Then, over him like a torrent, came 
 The sense of his present sin and shame. 
 And the tears came pouring down bis cheek. 
 "Oh, OodI " he cried, " I am frail and weak! '" 
 And he hid his face and murmured a prayer 
 Out of the depths of his dark despair, 
 (God grant his penitent prayer was heard!) 
 He turned away and withoiit a word. 
 But with steady step, and a figure bowed. 
 Was lost in the hurrying, passing crowd. 
 The music ceased and I went my way, 
 But I ne'er shall forget that sunny day 
 When I heard that music so soft and sweet, 
 Wafted down through the narrow street. 
 
 SINISTER EYES IN THE BARENESS. 
 
 Almost everywhere you go you meet them 
 peering out at you, sinister and baleful, from 
 somewhere under the shadow of the night. 
 
 It may be at a lone street crossing — in the hol- 
 low cavern of some dark alley-hole, across which 
 vou quickly hasten to get into the broader lone- 
 liness of the step-echoing street — in the nearlv 
 deserted street-car crawling up-town on its last 
 trip from the foot of Park Bow — or issuing re- 
 luctantly and illicitly from the low bar-room of 
 the more secluded thoroughfares; but the way- 
 farer of the night almost invanably meets it at 
 one place or the other — the low, cunning eye, 
 the malicious, evil-gazing orb of the self-con- 
 acious felon. 
 
 They belong to criminals of all grades. The 
 pickpocket, precociously *pt or agedly experi- 
 enced; the sneak-thief, lurking in area-ways, or 
 hunting the light-floods from jet-illuminated 
 windows, waiting for the coveted chance, and 
 dodging every honest footfall as it rings over the 
 deserted street; the veteran cracksman from 
 over the sea, hugg^g the tools of his trade un- 
 der his heavy pea-jacket, and flashing by with 
 his lace, whose devilish depravity and wicked- 
 ness make tho nightmare of your dreams; or 
 the burly garoter, with his confederates follow- 
 ing at easy distance; whoever, whatever they 
 be, the eye of evil is a characteristic of all, anil 
 gleams out with a greater or less degree of sinis- 
 ter criminality. 
 
 It is seen oflener by night, because it closes in 
 slumber by day. Sometimes a woman owns it, 
 and then it sparkles with a more subtle brilliancy 
 of wickedness, but with the same intelligence of 
 the devil in its depths of guile. 
 
 Not long ago, when my late hours at the edi- 
 torial desk were at an end, I went with a friend 
 to an all-night bar-room, where we could refresh 
 ourselves with stimulants, without fear of inter- 
 ruption at the hands of a not very zealous police 
 force. 
 
 It was resorted to by all classes, but mostly by 
 those who come under the characterizaticii of 
 " roughs." 
 
 The clandestine system of admittance, through 
 the street-door, was thoroughly organized — as it 
 always is in these places; and we saw a good 
 deal of tho " evil eye," as we sat there in the 
 costly-cushioned beiiches. 
 
 Presently, in companv with two or three 
 others, who might have been professional fight- 
 ers or thieves, came in a small, but powerfully- 
 built, young fellow, who, we were informed, was 
 the champion fighter of a certain city district. 
 He had drank more than the rest, and his power- 
 ful, well-knit frame was full of the nervous ac- 
 tion produced by artificial Btimulant. Every 
 motion was swift and agile— something between 
 the lithe gliding of a young panther and the stur- 
 dier springiness of a mountain ponv— and he had 
 the eye of malice under his beetle brows, though 
 blurred and unsteady with excessive drink. 
 
 His comrades, thrd© in number, were older, 
 and drank more sparingly. Ever and anon I 
 noticed that tliey looked at him with that mali- 
 cious twinkle of the eye, which went so strangely 
 with their apparent hospitality. And when they 
 — the three— lurked up suspiciously to the far 
 end of the counter, the bar-keeper, a good-look- 
 ing young fellow, the characterizing malice of 
 whose eye was but partially developed, leaned 
 over the bar and spoke to "the young ruffian I 
 have first described in a quick", low wbieper, 
 whidi, however, I did not fail to hear: 
 
 " Chaddy, get out of this as soon as you can." 
 
 The eyes of tho young bruiser were rum- 
 blurred and sleepy, as I have said, but they 
 suddenly shot out a gleam of inquiry —low, cov- 
 ert, almost buried beneath the brows, but keen 
 as a leopard's ere it makes the spring, while the 
 small, sinewy hands clenched as by instinct. 
 
 The bar-lender threw another glance over his 
 shoulder, and then shot out another whisper, 
 swift and decisive as before: 
 
 " The rest of the crowd will be hero in a mo- 
 ment. The game is to trample you. Go! " 
 
 The yonth stood for a moment, irresolute— all 
 the sinews of tho ' pony ' springing in his strong 
 young limbs, all tho 'panther' instinct swelling 
 in his trained, muscular arms, all tho spirit of 
 the born fighter perceptible in the clencuing of 
 the iron jaw and the olazing of that evil eye — 
 which was his characteristic — the characteristic 
 of his tribe and his analogies. 
 
 But he hesitated, and was lost. 
 
 Tinkle! tinkle! went tho little bell. 
 
 " It's all up with him! " I plainly read in the 
 upraised eyebrows of the bar-tender; and a mo- 
 ment thereafter he admitted three more men 
 whose general aspect — and that omnipresent, 
 never-to-be-forgotten Evil Eye — proclaimed them 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 41 
 
 to be the 8cum of tho low ward in which the all- 
 uight gin-mill was aitnatod. 
 
 By tliat " eyo "—who could mistake it? — I fol- 
 , lowed tho recognition that sprung up botweon 
 the uew-comerB and the other three. 
 
 In an inataut " Chaddy," as the bar-keeper 
 had called bim, wan in the midst of tho hix, 
 drinking, at their invitation, with all tho appar- 
 ent good nature in tho world. lint the conspi- 
 racy was to " traniplo him out," and it was quick- 
 ly and cowardly achieved. 
 
 First, tho loud words — tlien tho preconcerted 
 quarrel — then the ho and viler epitliet —and tho 
 fight commenced. 
 
 Chaddy was a gladiator by blood. Swift as 
 lightning swept Iuh trained blow from tho shoul- 
 der, aud his insuUer wont down as if struck by a 
 mallet. But tho cowardly trample was inaugu- 
 rated. The straiglilforward, manly blow was no 
 sooner struck than four or tivo heavy tists were 
 simultaneously planted on tho fighter's head — 
 four or five heavy boot-toes were driven into his 
 aide and stomach — and tho next instant ho was 
 down under their foot, under tho stamping of 
 tl.eir boot-heels, and tumblers and pitchers were 
 crashed upon his helpless head, with bowls and 
 Tolls aud curses which reminded one of fiends 
 in hell. 
 
 Tap! tap! clang! clang! sounded tho clubs of 
 policemen on the paving-stones outside. The 
 cowardly ruffians melted away in silence by 
 various modes of egress; the bleeding, mangled, 
 and inseuBiblo form was picked up by two por- 
 ters who hurried in, and carried up-stairs, aud 
 the blood and clots of hair upon the lloor were 
 hastily mopped up and fresh sawdust sprinkled 
 down. 
 
 " i knew they were making a set for Chaddy— 
 
 he's got a raft of enemies in this ward," said the 
 
 bar-tender, in explanation to ns; " but he has 
 
 helped to trample out a heap of lads himself, 
 
 ^ ana ought to know how to appreciate the dose." 
 
 There was grira humor in this comment, but 
 the evil of tho bar-tender's eye had suddenly 
 grown to Buch maturity as he spoke it that 1 
 turned away, disgrusted and sick. 
 
 There used to be an old thief who went about 
 New York, and who was a character in his way. 
 He must have been over sixty, was dressed, like 
 a clergyman, m black broadcloth and white 
 choker, but had spent the greater part of his life 
 in the State and other prisons of this country and 
 Great Britain. 
 
 One of the most remarkable characteristics of 
 this genius of thievery was that he used to be — 
 this was a long time ago — seen in the streets with 
 a girl of about fourteen (younger yet, I think), 
 whose extraordinarj' beauty was something of 
 general remark. It was a matter of general ob- 
 servation — especially on the Broadway prome- 
 nade of Saturday afternoons — but none noticed 
 it mure keenly tlian myself, for I know the char- 
 actor of tho man. 
 
 A detective policeman one day informed me 
 that the beautiful girl was the old thief s daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " He has educated her in the most extravagant 
 manner," I was told, " and every Saturday takes 
 her for a walk out of her boarding-school on 
 Madison Square. He is a villain of the deepest 
 dye, and couldn't bo honest for a twelve-month 
 if he tried hard; but he has one spark of human- 
 ity left in his black soul, and that is bis love for 
 that girl. Maybe he wasn't such a rascal when 
 •he was born to him, which may account for her 
 taking the goodness out of a nature afterward so 
 depraved. Or perhaps her mother was an angel 
 t and she took from that side entirely; but, at any 
 rate, she loves that old thief utterly, and doesn't 
 dream for an instant that he is anything else but 
 tho 'honestest' of men." 
 
 " But," I ventured, "if he is so often in pris- 
 on ? " 
 
 " He has settled so much upon her education," 
 was the reply, "and he can easily explain any 
 absence going from six months to as many 
 years." 
 
 I could gain nothing further of his history, but 
 this was enough to fix my attention strongly and 
 keenly. 
 
 I used to ♦onder at the contrast between them 
 as they moved along the street. She was so 
 beautiful, so thoroughly lovely; he, in spite of 
 his sham respectability" of garb, so hypocritical, 
 30 mean and sneaking. 
 
 Her eyes were blue as God's sunhght sky- 
 just as serene, deep, and just as innocent," as 
 purely, tenderly typical of all that was trusting, 
 virtuous, and true. 
 
 His— their evil shone out conspicuouslv enough 
 for me from their mask of pinch-back g"old spec- 
 tacles—were sin-soddened, crime-crimped, vice- 
 sray, and wicked. But— to the credit of his na- 
 
 ture bo it spoken— way down in tho twinkle of 
 their innate villainy— tliiere looked forth (beamed 
 is a better word) a fatherlv love and purity, and 
 tenderness and pride for that poor child ol beau- 
 ty and mmfortuno, which almost redeemed their 
 natural depravity. 
 
 He had grown wealthy in crime, but had — 
 Heaven bless him for it— kept it a secret from 
 that poison-fostered flower of his early love. 
 But as all lives are dramatic, so are they mostly 
 tragic; and the crowning tragedy of the daughter 
 of sin and shame — she shall bo nameless here I— 
 was at hand. 
 
 The old man finally overrcaclied himself, as 
 all thieves ultimately do, and to save himself 
 from a sentence which would, in its duration, 
 have exceeded his natural life, was compelled to 
 bring her as a witness, to prove an alibi. 
 
 She was then in all the glory and beauty of 
 budding womanhood, and one of the most love- 
 ly creatures I ever saw on earth — pray God 1 
 may see her in Heaven! I was in tuc court at 
 tho time, and shall never forget tho expression 
 of that voung, angel face, as the true character 
 of her debased parent was slowly, step by step, 
 in tho regular proccsH of a glib lawyer's " pump- 
 ing," laid before her in all its hideousneBs. 
 
 She shuddered, the bloom vanished from her 
 cheeks, and left them deadly pale. At first I 
 thought sho would faint, but she suddenly sprang 
 to her feet in the witness-box in one of those 
 paroxysms which, once in a life-time, overstep 
 the boundary that marks the destiny oi a soul. 
 
 The downcast " Evil Eye" — tho characteriza- 
 tion of his class — shrank before the blaze of that 
 piercing glance which suddenly comprehended 
 all. Everything was exhibited in that glance. 
 Purity pulled from its pedestal, honor dethroned, 
 lovo misled, trust betrayed, utter, irretrievable 
 despair — they were all there in characters of 
 painful, heart-piercing truth. 
 
 She uttered a wild cry, and exclaimed, as her 
 white fingers were pointed at her guilty parent, 
 in an agony of interrogation: 
 
 " Speak!" Is it true ? Are you a felon ? Have 
 you always been ? " 
 
 The bent head, tho tremor of the hands as 
 they clutched the rail of the prisoner's dock, the 
 voicelessness of woe, were answer enough. 
 
 She sprang up, and, with another wild, moan- 
 ing cry, fled out of the court, and out of the 
 building. 
 
 The father was convicted, sentenced, and died 
 in prison after lingering there for five years and 
 six months. The daughter was never seen nor 
 heard of again — at least, by no ono that I ever 
 knew — after that wild, despairing flight from the 
 court-room. 
 
 Perchance, with her it was a mad plunge mto 
 the near-flowing stream, with the cold waves to 
 muffle her death shriek as she sprang from the 
 pier; perchance it was that madder, still more 
 lamentable, plunge into the sea of infamy, where 
 she would be lost, indeed, where her beautiful, 
 innocent young eyes would, through regular 
 gradations of depravity, gather that darkness to 
 their liquid depths when they, also, would be 
 numbered among " Sinister Eyes looking out 
 from tho darkness." 
 
 Beautiful, but lost ones, bufleting with the sea! 
 
 There are threads of circumstances entwining 
 themselves with every life; and, oh, let us think 
 of them — of the Beautiful Lost, when that crimi- 
 inal evil eye — whether of man or woman — peers 
 out to us from the shadows of the mght! — Nathan 
 D. Vmer, in the JVeic York WeekJy. 
 
 DRUNE IN THE STREET. 
 
 " Dbunk, jour worship," the officer said, 
 
 " Drunk in the street, sir! " She raised her head— 
 
 A llngerins trace of the golden grace 
 
 Still softened tlie lines of her woe-worn face. 
 
 Unkempt aud tangled her rich brown hair. 
 
 Yet with all the furrows and stains of care — 
 
 The years of anguish and sin and despair — 
 
 The child of the city was passing fair. 
 
 The ripe red month, with lips compressed— 
 
 The rise and fall of the heaving breast — 
 
 The nervous fingers so taper and small, 
 
 Crumpled the ftinge of the tattered shawl 
 
 As she stood In her place at the officer's call. 
 
 She seemed good and fair, she seemed tender and 
 
 sweet. 
 This fallen woman found drunk in the street. 
 
 Does the hand that once smoothed the ripple and 
 
 wave 
 Of that tangled hair lie still In the grave ? 
 Is that mother who pressed those red lips to her 
 
 own, 
 Deaf to the pain of their smothered moan? 
 Has the voice that chimed to the lisping prayer 
 N'o accent of hope for the lost one there, 
 Bearing her burden of sin and despair? 
 
 Drunk In the strcetl— In the gutter found— 
 From a pa.sslonate longing to crush and drown 
 The soul of the woman she might have been— 
 To ning oirthe weight of a fearful dream, 
 Aud awake again lu the homestead liard-by. 
 And woodeil iiiouutain that touched the sky; 
 To linger a while on the path to school 
 And catch In the depth of the limpid pool, 
 Under the willow shade, green and cool, 
 A dimpled fa(;e and a laughing eye. 
 And tho pleasant words of a passer-by. 
 
 Ye men, with sisters and mothers and wives. 
 
 Have you no care for these women's lives;' > 
 
 Must they starve for the comfort they never speak 1\ 
 
 Must they ever be erring and sinful and weak — 
 
 Staggering onward with weary feet, 
 
 Staiue<l lu the gutters and drunk In the street ? 
 
 THE NISHT SIDE OF NEW YORK. 
 
 rilOJI SEUMONS UY UliV. T. DE WlTr TALJIAOE. 
 
 Brought up in the country and Burroanded by 
 much parental care, I had not, until this autumn, 
 seen the haunts of iniquity. By the grace of God 
 defended, 1 had never sowed any " wild oats." 
 I had somehow been able to tell from various 
 sources something about the iniquities of tho 
 great cities, and to preach agamst them; but I 
 saw, in the destructiou of a great multitude of 
 the people, that there must be an infatuation and 
 a temptation that had never been spoken about, 
 and I said, " I will explore." 
 
 I saw tens of thousands of men going down, 
 and if there bad been a spiritual percussion an- 
 swering to the physical percussion, the whole air 
 would have been 'full of the rumble, and roar, 
 and crack, and thunder of tho demoUtion; and 
 this moment, if we should pause in our service, 
 we should hear the crash, crash! Just as in the 
 sickly season you sometimes hear the bell at the 
 gate of tho cemetery ringing almost incessantly, 
 so I found that the bell at the gate of the cemetery, 
 where lost souls are buried, was tolhng by day 
 and tolling by night. I said, " I will explore." 
 
 It was ten o'clock of a calm, clear, Btarligbted 
 night when the carriage rolled with ua fi'om the 
 bright part of the city down into the region where 
 gambling, and crime, and death, bold high car- 
 nival. When I speak of houses of dissipation, I 
 do not refer to one sin, or five Bins, but to all 
 sins. 
 
 As the horsej baited, and, escorted by the 
 ofiicers of the law, wo went in, wc moved into a 
 world of which wo were as practically ignorant 
 as though it had swung as far off from us as 
 Mercury is from Saturn. No shout of revelry, 
 no guffaw of laughter, but comparative silence. 
 Not many signs of death, but the dead were 
 there. 
 
 As I moved through this place I said, " This 
 is the home of lost bouIs. It was a Dante's 
 " Inferno;" nothing to stir the mirth, but many 
 things to fill the eyes with tears of pity. Ah! 
 there were moral corpses. There were corpses 
 on the stairway, corpses in the gallery, corpses 
 in tho gardens. Leper met leper, but no ban- 
 daged mouth kept back the breath. 
 
 Amid these haunts of death, in that midnight 
 exploration, I saw that there were lions, aud 
 eagles, and doves lor insignia; but I thought to 
 myself how inappropriate. Better the insignia 
 of an adder and a bat. 
 
 First of all, I have to report as a result of this 
 midnight exploration that all the sacred rhetoric 
 about the costly magnificence of the haunts of 
 iniquity is apocryphal. We were shown what 
 was called the costliest and most magnificent 
 specimen. I had often heard that the walls were 
 adorned with masterpieces; that the fountains 
 were bewitching in the gasUght; that the music 
 was like the touch of a Thalbergora Gottschalk; 
 that the upholstery was imperial; that the furni- 
 ture in some places was like tho throne-room of 
 the Tuileries. It is aJJ false. 
 
 Masterpieces! There was not a painting worth 
 five dollars, leaving aside the frame. Great 
 daubs of color that no intelligent mechanic would 
 put on bis wall. A cross-breed between a 
 chromo and a splash of poor paint! Music! 
 Some of the homeliest creatures I ever saw 
 squawked discord, accompanied by pianos out of 
 tune! Upholstery! Two characteristics: red 
 and cheap. You have heard so much about tho 
 wonderful lights — blue and green and yellow and 
 orange flashing across the dancers and the gay 
 gn^oups. Seventy-five cents worth of chemicals 
 would produce all that in one night. Tinsel, 
 gewgaws, tawdriness, frippery, seemingly much 
 of it bought at a second-hand furniture store and 
 never paid for! 
 
 For the most part the inhabitants were repul- 
 sive. Here and there a soul on whom God bad 
 put the crown of beauty, but nothing comparable 
 
42 
 
 TME GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 with tlie Christiau loveliuess and purity which 
 you may see any pleasaut afternoon on any of 
 the thoroughlaroB of our great cities. Young 
 man, you are a stark fool if you go to places of 
 disaipation to eee pictures, and hear music, and 
 admire beautiful and gracious countenances. 
 In Thomas's, or Dodworth's, or Gilmore's band, 
 in ten minutes you will hear more harmony than 
 iu a whole year of the racket and bang of the 
 cheap orchestras of the diHsolute. 
 
 But I havy, my friends, also to report of that 
 midnight exploration, that I saw something that 
 'amazed mo more than I can tell. I do not want 
 to tell it, for It will take pain to many hearts far 
 away, and I cannot comfort them. But I must 
 tell it. In all these haunts of iniquity I found 
 young men with the ruddy color of country health 
 on their cheek; evidently come to town for busi- 
 ness, entering stores, and shops, and offices. 
 They had helped gather the summer grain. 
 There they were in the haunts of iniquity, the 
 look on their cheek which is never on the cheek 
 except when there has been hard work on the 
 farm in the open air. Here were these young 
 men, who had heard how gayly a boat dances on 
 the edge of a maelstrom, and "they were ventur- 
 ing. 
 
 Oh, GodI will a few weeks do such an awful 
 work for a young man ? Oh Lord! has Thou 
 forgotten what transpired when they knelt at the 
 family altar that morning when he came away, 
 and how father's voice trembled in the prayer, 
 and mother and sister sobbed as they lay oa the 
 floor? 1 saw that young man when he (irst con- 
 fronted evil. I saw it was the first night there. 
 I saw on him a detiant look, as mucli as to say, 
 " I am mightier than sin." Then I saw him 
 consult with iniquity. Then 1 saw him waver 
 and doubt. Then 1 saw going over his counten- 
 ance the shadow of sad reflections, and I knew 
 from his looks there was a powerful memory 
 stirring his soul. I think there was a whisper 
 going oat from the gaudy upholstery, saving, 
 " -My son, go liome." I think tliere was a Laud 
 tremulous with anxiety, a hand that had been 
 worn with work, a hand partially wrinkled with 
 ago, ttiat seemed to beckon him away, and so 
 goodness and sin seemed to struggle in that 
 young man's soul; but sin triuinphcd, and he 
 surreoilered to darkness and to death— an ox to 
 the slaughter. 
 
 Oh! iny soul, is thin tlie end of all the good ad- 
 vice ? Is this the end of all the prayers tuat have 
 been made ? Have the clusters of the country 
 vineyard been thrown into this prroat wine-pres'a 
 where Despair and Anguish aii<l Death trample, 
 and the vintage is a vintage of Ijlood ? I do not 
 feel ao sorry for that young man who, brought 
 up iu city life, knows beforehand what are all the 
 surrounding temptations; but Ood pity the coun- 
 try lad, unsuspecting and easily betrayed. 
 
 Oh! young man from the farm-house among 
 the hills, what have your parents done that you 
 should do this against them ? Why are you bent 
 on killing with trouble hor who gave you birth ? 
 Look at her fingers— what makes them so dis- 
 tort? Working for you. Do you prefer to that 
 honest old face the berouged cheek of sin 1 Oh! 
 write homo to-morrow morning by the first mail, 
 cursing your mother's white liair, cursing her 
 stooped sliouldor, cursing her old arm-chair, 
 cursing the cradle in which she rocked you. 
 " Oh! ' you say, " I can't, 1 can't." You are do- 
 ing it already. There is something on your 
 bands, on your forehead, on your feet. ItisVed. 
 What IS It ? Thi' blond of a mother's broken heart! 
 
 When you wore thrashing the harvest apples 
 from that tree at tlie corner of the field last sum- 
 mer, did you think you would ever come to this? 
 Did you think that the sharp sickle of death 
 would cut you down so soon ? OhI if I thought 
 I couhl break the infatuation I would come down 
 from the pulpit and throw my arms around you 
 and beg you to stop. 
 
 Perhaps I am a little more svmpathetic with 
 such because I was a countrv fad. It was not 
 until fifteen years of age that i saw a great city. 
 I remember how stupendous New York looked 
 as I arrived at Cortlaudt Ferry. And now that 
 I look back and remember that I had a nature 
 all awake to hilarities and amusements, it is a 
 wonder that I escaped. I was saying this to a 
 gentleman in New York a few days ago, and he 
 said: "Ah! sir, I guess there icere some prayeis 
 hovering nboiU." 
 
 When I see a young man coming from the tamo 
 life of the country and going down in the city 
 ruin, I am not surprised. My only surprise is 
 that any escape, considering the allurements. I 
 was a few days ago on the St. Lawrence river, 
 and I said to the captain: "What a ewilt stream 
 this is!" "Oh!" he replied, "seventy-five 
 miles from hero it is ten times swifter. Why, we 
 hara to employ au Indian pilot, and we give liim 
 
 $1,000 for his summer's work, just to conduct 
 our boats through between the rocks and the isl- 
 ands, so switt are the rapids." Well, my friends, 
 every man that comes into New York and Brook- 
 lyn life comes into the rapids, and the only ques- 
 tion is whether he shall have safe or "unsafe 
 pilotage. 
 
 But I was going to tell you of an incident. 
 
 I said to the officer: ""Well, let us go; I am 
 tired of this scene; " and as we passed out of 
 the haunts of iniquity into the fresh air, a soul 
 
 Eassed in. What a face that was! Sorrow only 
 alf covered up with an assumed joy. It was a 
 woman's face. I saw as plainly as on the page 
 of a book the tragedy. 
 
 You know that there is such a thing as som- 
 nambulism, or walking in one's sleep. Well, in 
 a fatal somnambuUsm, a soul started off from 
 her father's house. It was very dark, and her 
 feet were cut of the rocks; but on she went until 
 she came to the verge of a chasm, and she began 
 to descend from boulder to boulder down over the 
 rattling shelving — for you know while walking in 
 sleep people will go where they would not when 
 awake. Farther on down, and farther, where no 
 owl of the night or hawk of the day would venture. 
 On down until she touched tlie depth of the 
 chasm. 
 
 Then, in walking asleep, she began to ascend 
 the other side the chaiin, rock above rock, as the 
 roeboundeth. Without having her head to swim 
 with the awful steep, she scaled the height. No 
 eve but the sleepless eye of God watched her as 
 sde went down one side the chasm, and came up 
 the other side the chasm. 
 
 It was an August night, and a storm was gath- 
 enng, and a loud burst of thunder awoke her 
 from her somnambulism, and she said, " Whither 
 shall I fly ? " and with an affrighted eye she 
 looked back upon the chasm she had crossed 
 and she lookea in front, and there was a deeper 
 chasm before her. She said: " What shall I do ? 
 Must I die here ? " And as she bent over the 
 one chasm she heard the sighing of the past; 
 and as she bent over the other chasm she heard 
 the portents of the future. 
 
 Then she sat down on the granite crag and 
 cried: "Oh, lor my father's house! Oh, for the 
 cottage, where I might die amid embowering 
 houevsuckle! Oh! the past! Oh! the future! 
 Oh, father! Oh, mother! Oh, GodI " But the 
 storm that had been gathering culminated, and 
 wrote with finger of lightning on the sky, jnst 
 above the horizon, " The way of the transgressor 
 is hard!" And then thunder-peal after tliuu- 
 der-peal uttered it: " Which forsaketh the guide 
 of her youth and forgetteth the covenant of her 
 God. Dettroyefl irUhotU remedy! " And the 
 cavern behind echoed it, " Destroyed without 
 remedy! " And the chasm before echoed it, 
 "Destroyed without remedy! " There she per- 
 ished, her cut and bleeding feet on the edge of 
 one chasm, hor long locks, washed of the storm, 
 dripping over the oth«r chasm. 
 
 ****** 
 
 1 noticed in my midnight exploration that the 
 haunts of sin are chiefly supported by men of 
 moans, and men of wealth. The young" men re- 
 cently come from the country, are on small 
 salary, and they have but little money to spend 
 in sill, and if they go into luxuriant iniquity the 
 employer finds it out by theinfiumcd eye and the 
 marlis' of dissipation, and they are discharged. 
 The luxuriant places of iniquity are supported 
 by men who come down from the fashionable 
 avenues of Now York, and cross over from some 
 of the finest mansions of Brooklvu. Prominent 
 business men from Boston, and Philadelphia, 
 and Chicago, and Cincinnati, patronize these 
 places of crime. I conld call tlie names of 
 prominent men in our cluster who patronize 
 these places of iniquity; and I may call their 
 names before I get through this course of ser- 
 mons, though the fabric of New York and Brook- 
 lyn society tumble into wreck. Judges of courts, 
 distinguished lawyers, officers of the church, po- 
 litical orators, standing on the Republican and 
 Democratic and Greenback platforms, talking 
 about God and good morals until you might sup- 
 pose them to be evangelists, expecting a thou- 
 sand converts in one night. Call the roll of dis- 
 sipation in the haunts of iniquity any night, and 
 if the inmates will answer, you" will find there 
 stock-brokers from Wall Street, large importers 
 from Broadway, iron merchants, leather mer- 
 chants, cotton merchants, hardware merchants, 
 wholesale grocers, representatives from all the 
 commercial and wealthy classes. Talk about 
 the heathenism below Canal Street! There is a 
 worse heathenism above Canal Street. I prefer 
 that kind of heathenism which wallows in filth 
 and disgusts the beholder, rather than that 
 heathenism)which covers up its walking putrefac- 
 tion with camcl's-bair shawl and point lace, and 
 
 rides in turn-outs worth $3,000, liveried driver 
 ahead, and rosetted flunkey behind. We have 
 been talking bo much about the Gospel for tlia 
 masses, now let us talk a Uttle about the gospel 
 for the lepers of society, for the millionaire sots, 
 lor the portable lazzarettos of upper-ten. lom! 
 It is the iniquity that comes down from tlm 
 higher circles of society that supports the hauiKs 
 of crime, and it is gradually turning our iiiiea 
 into Sodoms and Gomorrahs" waiting lor the fire 
 and brimstone tempest of the Lord God who 
 whelmed the cities of the plain. We want about 
 five hundred Anthony Comstocks to go forth and 
 explore and expose the abominations of high life. 
 For eight or ten years there stood within sight 
 of the most fashionable New York drive a Moloch 
 temple, a bro>vu-Btone hell on earth, which 
 neither the mayor, nor the judges, nor the pn- 
 lice dare touch, when Anthony Comstock, a 
 Christian man of less than ave"rage physical 
 stature, and with cheek scarred with the knife ol 
 a desperado whom he had arrested, walked into 
 that palace of the damned on Fifth Avenue, and 
 in the name of the eternal God, put an end to it, 
 the priestess presiding at the orgies retreating 
 by suicide into the lost world, her bleeding 
 corpse found in her own bath-tub. May the 
 eternal God have mercy on our cities. Gilded 
 sin comes down from these high places into the 
 upper circles of imquity, and then on gradually 
 down until in five years it make the whole pif- 
 grimage, from the marble pillar on the brilliant 
 avenue clear down to the cellars of Water Street. 
 The officer on that midnight exploration said to 
 me: " Look at them now, and look at them three 
 years from now, when all this glory has depart- 
 ed; they'll be a heap of rags in" the station- 
 house." Another of the officers said to me: 
 "That is the daughter of one of the wealthiest 
 families on Madison Square." 
 
 But I have sometliing more amazing to tell you 
 than that the men of means and wealth support 
 these haunts of iniquity, and tliaiis, that they art 
 chiefly supported by heads of families— fathers 
 and husbands, with the awful perjury of broken 
 marriage vows upon them, with a niggardly sti- 
 pend left at home lor the support of their fam- 
 ilies, going forth with their thousands for the dia- 
 monds and wardrobe and equipage of iniquity. 
 In the name of Heaven, I denounce this public 
 iniquity. Let such men '^e hurled out of accent 
 circles. Let them bo hurled out from business cir- 
 cles. If they will not repent, overboard with them! 
 I lift one-half the burden of malediction Irom the 
 uupitied headof offending woman, and hurl it on 
 the blasted pate of offending man! Society 
 needs a new division of its anathema. By what 
 law of justice does burning excoriation pursue 
 offending woman down off the precipices of de- 
 struction, while oflcuding man, kid-gloved, walks 
 in refined circles, invited up if he have money, 
 advanced into political recognition, while all tlie 
 doors of high life open at the first rap of his gold- 
 headed cane ? I say, if you let one come back, 
 let them iKith come back. If one must go down, 
 let both go down. I give you as my opinion that 
 the eternal perdition of all other sinners will bi 
 a heaven compared with the punishment ever- 
 lasting of that man who, turning his back upon 
 her whom he swore to protect and defend iiuti! 
 death, and upon his children, whose destiny 
 mav be decided by his example, goes forth to 
 seeli affectioual alliances elsewhere. 
 
 But, you press me with the question: " Wliy 
 don't tlie puolic authorities of New York extirpate 
 these haunts of iniquity ? " Before I give you a 
 definite answer, I want to say that the obstacles 
 in that city are greater than "in any city on this 
 continent. It is so vast. It is the landing-place 
 of European immigration. Its wealth is mighty 
 to establish and defend places of iniquity. 
 Twice a year there are incursions of people from 
 all parts'of the laud coming on the spring and 
 the fall trade. It requires twenty times the 
 municipal energy to keep order in New York 
 that it does in any city from Portland to San 
 Francisco. But still you pursue me with the 
 question, and I am to "answer it by telling you 
 that there is infinite fault and immensity of blame 
 to be divided between three parties. First, the 
 police of New York City. So fiir as I know them 
 thoy are courteous gentlemen. Tbey have hail 
 great discouragement, they tell me, in the fact 
 that when they arrest crime and bring it bef.no 
 the courts, the witnesses will not appear lest they 
 criminate themselves. They toll me also that 
 they have been discotiraged by the fact that so 
 many suits have been brought against them f"V 
 damages. But after all, my friends, they mn«; 
 take their share of blanoe. I have cometo l'^'- 
 conclusion, after much research and invo.s'i- . 
 tion, that there are captains of police in \ v 
 York who are in complicity with crime— men •■■■■. < 
 make thousands of dollars a year, for the ni-r K 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY 
 
 43 
 
 fact thftt they will not tell and will permit places 
 of iniquity to ataud month after mouth aod year 
 after year. I am told that there are captains of 
 police m Now York who get a percentaeo on 
 every bottle of wino sold in the )iauut8 of death, 
 , and that they get a revenue from all the Bham- 
 bleeofHiii. What a state of thiiicH tins isl In 
 the Twouty-niutli Prccmct of Now York there are 
 one hundred and twenty-one dens of death. 
 Night after night, luontli after month, year after 
 year, untouched. In West Twenty-sixtli Street, 
 ind West Twonty-seveuth Street, and Weal 
 rhirty-lirst Street there are whole blocks that 
 are a pandomoninm. There are between live 
 and six huudi^ed dons of darknoHS in the city of 
 New York, where there are 2,500 policemen. 
 Not long ago there was a masquerade ball, in 
 which the maaculine and feminine offenders of 
 society wore the participants, and some of the 
 police danced in the inasqueriule and distributed 
 the prizes! There is the grandest opportunity 
 that has ever opened for any American open 
 now. It is for that man in high official position 
 who shall got into Ins stirrups and eav: "Men, 
 follow! " and who shall, in one night, sweep 
 around and take all of these loaders of iniquity, 
 whether on suspicion or on positive proof, say- 
 ing, "I'll take the responsibility, come on! I 
 put my private property and my political aspir- 
 atioua and mv hfo into this crusade against the 
 powers of darkness." Tliatmau would be Mayor 
 of the city of New York. That man would be tit 
 to bo President of the United States. 
 
 But the second part of tb« blame I must put at 
 the door of the District Attorney of New York. 
 I understand he is an honorable gentleman, but 
 ho has not time to attend to all these cases. 
 Literally there are thousands of cases uu- 
 
 Eursued for lack of time. Now, I say it is the 
 usiness of New York to give assistants and 
 clerks and help to the District Attorney until all 
 those places shall go down in quick retribution. 
 But the third part of tho blame, and the heavi- 
 est part of it, I put on the moral and Christian 
 people of our cities, who are guilty of most 
 culpable indifference on the whole subject. 
 When Tweed stole his millions large audiences 
 were assembled in indignation; Charles O'Conor 
 was retained, committees of safety and investi- 
 gation were appointed, and a great stir made; 
 but night by night there is a theft and a burglary 
 of city morals as much worse than Tweed's rob- 
 beries as his were worse than common shoplift- 
 ing, and it has very little opposition. I teU you 
 what New York wants: it wants indig;nation 
 meetings in Cooper Institute, and Academy of 
 Music, and Chickering and Irving Halls, to com- 
 pel tho authorities to do their work and to send 
 the police, with clubs and lanterns and revol- 
 vers, to turn off the colored hghts of the dance- 
 houses, and to mark for confiscation the trunks 
 and wardrobes and furniture and scenery, and 
 to gather up all the keepers, and all the inmates, 
 and all the patrons, and march them out to the 
 Tombs, fife and drum sounding the Bogue's 
 March. 
 
 ♦ *♦♦»* 
 
 " It is only ten o'clock," said the oflScer of the 
 law as we got into the carriage for the midnight 
 exploration — " it is only ten o'clock, and it is too 
 early to see the places that we wish to see, for 
 the theatres have not yet let out." I said, 
 "What do you mean by that?" "Well," he 
 said, " the places of iniquity are not in full blast 
 until tho people have time to arrive from the 
 theatres." So we loitered on, and tho officer told 
 the driver ti stop on a street where is one of the 
 costliest and most brilliant gambling-houses in 
 the city of New York. As wo came up in front 
 all seemed dark. Tho blinds were down; tho 
 door was guarded; but after a whispering of the 
 officer with the guard at the door, wo were ad- 
 mitted into the hall, and thence into the parlors, 
 around one table finding eight or ten men in 
 mid-life, well-dressed — all the work going on in 
 silence, save the noise of the rattling " chips " 
 on the gaming-table in one parlor, and the re- 
 volving ball of tho roulette-table in the other 
 parlor. Some of these men, we were told, had 
 served terms in prison; some were ship-wrecked 
 bankers and brokers and money-dealers, and 
 some were going their first rounds of vice— but 
 all intent upon the table, as large or small for- 
 tunes moved up or down before them. Oh! 
 there was something awfully solemn in the si- 
 lence—the intense gaze, the suppressed emotion 
 of the players. No one looked up. They all had 
 money in the rapids, and I have no doubt some 
 saw, as they sat there, horses and carriages, and 
 houses and lands, and home and family rushing 
 down into tho vortex. A man's life would not 
 ha'sc been worth a farthing in that presence had 
 he hot been accompanied by the police, if be had 
 been supposed to be on a Christian errand of 
 
 observation. Some of those men went by pri- 
 vate key, some \font in by caretul introduction, 
 some wore taken in l>y tho patrons of tho estab- 
 lishment. The officer of tho law told me: "None 
 gets in hero except by police mandate, or by somi! 
 letter of a patron. While we wore there a 
 young man came in, put Ins money down on the 
 roiiletto-tablo, and lust; put more mouoy down 
 on tho roulette-table, and lost; put moro down 
 on tho roulette-taljlo, and lost; thou feeling in 
 his pockets for moro money, tindiug none, in se- 
 reno silence hu turiiod his back upon tho scene 
 and passed out. All the literature about the 
 costly magniliccuco of such places is untrue. 
 Moil kept their hats on and smoked, and there 
 was nothing in tlio upholstery or tho furniture to 
 forbid. While we stood thei'o men lost their 
 property and lost their souls. Oh! merciless 
 place. Not once in all tho history of that gaming- 
 houso has there been one word of sympathy ut- 
 tered for the losers at the ganio. Sir Horace 
 Walpolo said that a man dropped dead in front 
 ofoueof the club-houses of Loudon; his body 
 was carried into the club-house, and the mem- 
 bers oi the club began immediately to bet as to 
 whether ho were dead or alive, and when it was 
 proposed to test the matter by bleeding him, it 
 was only hindered by the suggestion that it would 
 bo uufaiv to some of the playersl In these gaming- 
 houses of our cities, men have their property 
 wrung away from them, and then they go out, 
 some of them to drown their grief in strong 
 drink, some to ply the couutorfeiter's pen and so 
 restore their fortunes, some risort to the sui- 
 cide's revolver, but all going down, and that 
 work proceeds day by day, and night by mght, 
 until it 18 estimatecl that every day in Christen- 
 dom $80,000,000 pass from hand to baud through 
 gambling practices, and every year in Christen- 
 dom $123,100,000,000 change hands in that way. 
 »»♦»** 
 
 Standing within those purlieus of death, iinder 
 the command of the police, and in their com- 
 pany, I was as much surprised at the people 
 whom I missed as at tho people whom I saw. I 
 saw bankers there, and brokers there, and mer- 
 chants there, and men of all classes and occupa- 
 tions, who have leisure, there; but there was one 
 class of persons that I missed. I looked for 
 them all up and down the galleries, and amid 
 the illumined gardens, and all up aud down the 
 staircases of death. I saw not one of them. 1 
 mean the hard-working classes, the laboring 
 classes, of our great cities. You tell me they 
 could not afford to go there. They could. En- 
 trance, twenty-five cents. They could have gone 
 there if they had a mind to; but the simple fact 
 is that hard work is a friend to good morals. 
 Tho men who toil from early morn until late at 
 night when they go home are tired out, and 
 want to sit down and rest, or to saunter out with 
 tho families along the street, or to pass into some 
 quiet place of amusement whero they will not be 
 ashamed to lake wife or daughter. Tho busy 
 populations of these cities are tho moral popula- 
 tions. I observed, on tho night of our explora- 
 tion, that the places of dissipation are cniefly 
 supported by tho men who go to business at nine 
 and ten o'clock in the morning, and get through 
 at three and four in tho afternoon. They have 
 plenty of time to go to destruction in it, and 
 plenty of money to buy a through ticket on the 
 Grand Trunk Railroad to perdition, stopping at 
 no depot until they got to the eternal smash-up! 
 Those are tho fortunate and divinely-blessed 
 young men who have to breakfast early and take 
 supper late, aud have the entire interregnum 
 filled up with work that blisters tho hands, and 
 makes tue legs ache and the brain weary. There 
 IS no chanco for tho morals of that young man 
 who has plenty of money aud no occupation. 
 You may go from Central Park to tho Battery, or 
 you may go from Fulton Street Ferry, Brooklyn, 
 but to South Bushwick, or out to Hunter's Point, 
 or out to Gowanus, and you will not find one 
 young man of that kind who has not already 
 achieved his ruin, or who is not on the way 
 thereto at the rate of sixty miles tho hour. Those 
 are not tho favored and divinely-blessed young 
 men who com© and go as they will, ana who 
 have their pocket-case full of the best cigars, 
 and who dine at Dclmonico's, and who dress in 
 tho tip-top of fashion, their garments a little 
 tighter or looser or broader-striped than others, 
 their mustaches twisted with stitfer cosmetic, and 
 their hair redolent with costly pomatum, and 
 have their hat set farthest over on tho right ear, 
 and who have boots fitting the foot with exquisite 
 torture, and who have handkerchiefs soaked with 
 musk, and patchouli, and white rose, and new- 
 mown hay, and "balm of a thousand flowers;" 
 but those are the fortunate young men who have 
 to work hard for a living. Give a young man 
 plenty of wines, and plenty of cigars, and plentv 
 
 of fiue horses, and Satan has no anxiety about 
 that young man coming out at his place. Ho 
 ceases t'j watch hiUi, only giving directions about 
 his rcceptiou when he shall arrive at tho end of 
 tho journey. If, on tlio uiglitof our exploration, 
 I had called the roll of all tho laijoriiig men oi 
 these cities, I would have received no answer, for 
 the simple reason they were not there to answer. I 
 was not more surprised at tho people uhoiii I 
 saw there than I was surprised at the people 
 whom 1 niissod. Oh! man, if you liave an occu- 
 pation by which you are wearied every night of 
 your life, thank God, for it is the mightiest prc- 
 scrvalivo against evil. 
 
 I unroll the scroll of new revelations. With 
 city missionary, and the police of Now York and 
 Brooklyn, I have seen some things that I havo 
 not yet stated in this series ot discourses on tho 
 night side of city lile. The night of which I speak 
 now 18 darker than any other. No glittering 
 chandelier, no blazing mirror adorns it. It is 
 the long, deep, exhaustive night of city pauper- 
 ism. " Wo won't want a carriage to-night," said 
 tho detectives. " A carriage would hinder ui in 
 our work; a carriage going through the streets 
 where we arc going would only bring out the 
 people to see what was tho matter." So on foot 
 we went up tho dark lanes of poverty. Every- 
 thing revolting to eye, and ear, and nostril. 
 Population unwashed, uncombed. Booms un- 
 ventilated. Three midnights overlapping each 
 other — midnight of tho natural world, midnight 
 of crime, luidnight of pauperism. Stairs oozing 
 with tilth. The inmates nine-tenths of the jour- 
 ney to their final doom traveled. They started 
 in some unhappy homo of the city or of the 
 country. They p'lunged into the shambles of 
 death within ten minutes" walk of the Fifth Ave- 
 nue Hotel, New York, and then came on gradu- 
 ally down until they have arrived at the Fourth 
 Ward. When they move out of tho Fourth Ward 
 they will move into Bellevue Hospital; when 
 they move out of Bellevue Hospital they will 
 move to Black well's Island; when they movo 
 from BlackweU's Island they will movo to tho 
 Potter's Field; when they move from the Potter's 
 Field they will move into hell! Bellevue Hospi- 
 tal and BlackweU's Island take care of eighteen 
 thousand patients in one year. As we passed on, 
 the rain pattering on the street, and dripping 
 around the doorways, made the night more dis- 
 mal. I said: " Now, let tho police go ahead," 
 and they flashed their light, and there were four- 
 teen persons trying to sleep, or sleeping, in ono 
 room. Some on a bundle of straw; more with 
 nothing under them and nothing over them. 
 " Oh! ''you say, " this is exceptional." It is not. 
 Thousands lodge iu that way. Ono hundred 
 and seventy thousand families living in tene- 
 ment houses, iu more or less inconvenience -- 
 moro or less squalor. Half a million people iu 
 New York City — five hundred thousand people 
 living in tenement houses; multitudes of these 
 people dying by inches. Of the twenty-four 
 thousand that die yearly in New York, fourteen 
 thousand die in tenement houses. No lungs that 
 God ever made could for a long time stand the 
 atmosphere .we breathed for a little while. Iu 
 the Fourth Ward, seventeen thousand people 
 within tho space of thirty acres. You say: " Why 
 not clear them out? Why not, as at Liverpool, 
 whero twenty thousand of these people were 
 cleared outot the city, and tho city saved from a 
 moral pestilence, and the people themselves 
 from being victimized ? " There will be no ref- 
 ormation for these cities until the tenement house 
 system is entirely broken up. Tho city authori- 
 ties will have to buy farms, and will have to put 
 these people on those farms, and compel them 
 to worlc. By tho strong arm of tho law, by the 
 police lantern conjoined with Christian charity, 
 these places must be exposed and must bo up- 
 rooted. Those places in London which have be- 
 come historical for crowded populations- St. 
 Giles, Whitechapel, Holbom, tho Strand— havo 
 their match at last in the Sixth Ward, Eleventli 
 Ward, Fourteenth W^ard, Seventeenth Ward of 
 New York. No purification for our cities until 
 each family shall have something of tho privacy 
 and seclusion of a homo circle. As long as they 
 herd like beasts they w.U be beasts. 
 
 Hark! What is that heavy thud on the wet 
 pavement? Why, that is a drunkard who has 
 fallen, his head striking against the street— strik- 
 ing very hard. The police try to lift him up. 
 Ring tho bell for the city ambulance. No. Ouly 
 an outcast, only a taiterdemalion — a heap oY 
 sores and rags. But look again. Perhaps he 
 has some marks of manhood on his face; per- 
 haps he may havo been made in tho image of 
 God; perhaps he has a soul which will live after 
 tho dripping heavens of this dismal night have 
 been rolled together as a scroll; perhaps he mar 
 
 \ 
 
44 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CLTY. 
 
 have been died for by a king; perhaps lio may 
 yet be a conqueror charioted in the Bplendora of 
 "heavenly welcome. But wo must pass on. We 
 cross the street, and the rain beating in his face, 
 lies a man entirely uucousciotis. I wonder where 
 he came from. I wonder if any one is waiting 
 for him. I wonder if he was ever rocked in a 
 Chnstian cradle. I wonder if that gashed and 
 bloated forehead was ever kissed by a fond 
 mother's lips. I wonder if he is stranded for 
 eternity. But wc cannot stop. We passed on 
 down, the air loaded with blasphemies and ob- 
 scenities, until I suddenly heard something that 
 astounded me more than all. I said, "What is 
 that?" It was a loud, enthusiastic Christian 
 song rolling out on the stormy air. I went up to 
 the window and looked in. There was a room 
 filled with all sorts of people, some standing, 
 some kneeling, some sitting, some singing, some 
 prajnng, some shaking bands as if to give en- 
 couragement, some wringing their bands as 
 though over a wasted bfe. What was this ? Oh! 
 it was Jerry McAuley's glorious Christian mis- 
 sion. There he stood, himself snatched from 
 death, snatching others from death. That scene 
 paid lor all the nausea and fatigue of the mid- 
 night exploration. Our tears fell with the rain — 
 tears of sympathy for a good man's work; tears 
 of gratitude to God that one lifeboat had been 
 launched on that wild sea of sin and death; tears 
 of hope that there might be lifeboats enough to 
 take off all the wrecked, and that, after a while, 
 the Church of God, rousing from its fastidious- 
 ness, might lay hold with both hands of this 
 work, which must be done if our cities are not to 
 go down in darkness and fire and blood. 
 
 This cluster of cities have more difficulty than 
 any other cities in all the land. You must un- 
 derstand that within the last twenty-eight years 
 five millions of foreign population have arrived 
 at our port. The most of those who had capital 
 and means passed on to the greater openings at 
 the West. Many, however, stayed, and have be- 
 come our best citizens, and best members of our 
 churches; but we know also that, tarrying with- 
 in our borders, there has been a vast criminal 
 population, ready to be manipulated by the dem- 
 agogue, ready to hatch out all kinds of criminal 
 desperation. The vagrancv and the beggary of 
 onr cities, augmented by the very worst popula- 
 tions of London, and Edinburgh]! and Glasgow, 
 and Berlin, and Belfast, and Dublin, and Cork. 
 We had enough vagabondage, and enough turpi- 
 tude, in our American cities, before this importa- 
 tion of Bin was dumped at Castle Garden. Oh! 
 this pauperism, when will it ever be alleviated ? 
 How much we saw! IIow much we could not see! 
 How much none but the eye of Almighty God 
 ever will seel Flash the lantern of the police 
 around to the station-house. There they come up, 
 the poor creatures, tipping their torn hats, say- 
 ing, " Night's lodgings, eir '! " And then they are 
 waved away into the dormitories. One hundred 
 and'torty thousand such lodgers in the City of New 
 York every year. The atmosphere unbearable. 
 What pathos in the fact that many families, 
 turned out of doors because they cannot pay 
 their rent, come in here for shelter, and after 
 struggling for decency, and struggling for a good 
 name, are flung into this loathsome pool. The 
 respectable and the reprobate. Innocent child- 
 hood and vicious old age. The Lord's poor and 
 Satan's desperadoes. There is no report of 
 almshouse and missionary that will ever tell the 
 story of New York and Brooklyn pauperism. It 
 will take a larger book, a book with more pon- 
 derous hds, a book made of paper other than 
 that of earthly manufacture. 'The book of God's 
 remembrancel At my basement door we aver- 
 age between fifty and one hundred calls everyday 
 for help. Beside that, in my receptiou-room, from 
 seven o'clock in the morning until ten o'clock at 
 night, there is a continuous procession of people 
 applying for aid, making a demand which an old- 
 Jasnioued silken purse caught at the middle with 
 a ring, the wealth of Vanderbilt in one end and 
 the wealth of William B. Astor in the other end, 
 could not satisfy. Of course, I speak of those 
 men's wealth while they lived. We have more 
 money now than they have since they have their 
 shroud on. But even the shroud anil the grave, 
 we find, are to be contested for. Cursed be the 
 midnight jackals of St. Mark's Churchyardl But 
 I must go on with the fact that the story of 
 Brooklyn and New York pauperism needs to be 
 written in ink black, blue and red— blue for the 
 stripes, red for the blood, black for the infamy. 
 In this cluster of cities 20,000 people supported 
 by the bureau for the outdoor sick; 20,000 people 
 taken care of by the city hospitals; 70,000 pro- 
 vided for by private charity; 80,000 taken care of 
 by reformatory institutions and prisons. Hear 
 it, ye churches, and pour out your benefaction. 
 Hear it, ye ministers of religion, and utter words 
 
 of sympathy for the suffering, and thunders of 
 indignation against the cause of all this wretched- 
 ness. Hear it, mayoralities, and judicial bench, 
 and constabularies. Unless we wake up, the 
 Lord will scourge us as the yellow fever never 
 scourged New Orleans, as'the plague never 
 smote London, as the earthquake never shook 
 Caraccas, as the fire never whelmed Sodom. I 
 wish I could throw a bombshell of arousal into 
 every city hall, meeting-house and cathedral on 
 the continent. The factories at Fall River and at 
 Lowell sometimes stop for lack of demand, and 
 for lack of workmen, but this million-roomed 
 factory of sin and death never stops, never slack- 
 ens a band, never arrests a spindle. The great 
 wheel of that factory keeps on turning, not by 
 such floods as those of the Merrimac or the Con- 
 necticut, but crimson floods rushing forth from 
 the groggeries, and the wine-cellars, and the 
 drinking saloons of the land, and the faster the 
 floods rush the faster the wheel turns; and the 
 band of that wheel is woven from broken heart- 
 strings, and every time the wheel turns, from the 
 mouth of the mul come forth blasted estates, 
 squalor, vagrancy, crime, sin, woe— individual 
 woe, municipal woe, national woe — and the 
 creaking and the rumbling of the wheel are the 
 shrieks and the groans of men and women lost 
 for two worlds, and the cry is, "Bring on more 
 fortunes, more homes, more States, more cities, 
 to make up the awful grist of this stupendous 
 mill." " Oh,'" you say, " the wretchedness and 
 the sin of the city will go out from lack of material 
 alter a while." No, it will not. The police lan- 
 tern flashes in another direction. Here come 
 15,000 shoeless, hatless, homeless children of the 
 street in this cluster of cities. They are the re- 
 serve corps of this great army of wretchedness 
 and crime that are dropping down into the 
 Morgue, the East Eiver, the Potter's Field, the 
 prison. A philanthropist has estimated that if 
 these children were placed in a great procession, 
 double file, three feet apart, they would make a 
 procession eleven miles long. Oh! what a pale, 
 coughing, hunger-bitten, sin-cursed, ophthalmic 
 throng— the tigers, the adders, the scorpions, 
 ready to bite and sting society, which they take 
 to be' their natural enemy. Howard Mission has 
 saved many. Children's Aid Society has saved 
 many. Industrial schools have saved many. 
 One of these societies transported 30,000 children 
 from the streets of our cities to farms at the 
 West, by a stratagem of charity turning them 
 from vagrancy into useful citizenship, and out of 
 21,000 children thus transported from the cities 
 to farms, only twelve turned out badly. But still 
 the reserve " corps oJ sin and wretchedness 
 marches on. There is the regiment of bootblacks. 
 They seem jolly, but they have more sorrow than 
 many an old man has had. All kinds of tempta- 
 tion. Working on, making two or three dollars a 
 week. At fifteen years of age sixty years old in 
 sin. Pitching pennies at the street corners. 
 Smokuig fragments of castaway cigars. Tempted 
 by the gamblers. Destroyed "by the top-gallery 
 in the low play-house. Blackening shoes their 
 regular business. Between times blackening 
 their morals. "Shine your boots, sir ?" they 
 call out with merry voices, but there is a tremor 
 in their accentuation. Who cares for them t 
 You put your toot thoughtlessly on their stand, 
 and you whistled, or smoked, when God knows 
 you inight have given them one kind word. They 
 never had one. Whoever prayed for a bootblack ? 
 Who, finding the wind blowing under the short 
 jacket, or reddening his bare neck, ever asked 
 him to warm ? Who, when he is wronged out of 
 his ten cents, demands justice for himy Gtod 
 have mercy on the bootblacks. The newsboys 
 another regiment— the smartest bovs in all the 
 city. At work at four o'clock in tbe morning. 
 At half-past three, by unnatural vigilance, awake 
 themselves, or pulled at by rough hands. In the 
 dawn of the day standing before the folding rooms 
 of the great newspapers, taking the wet, damp 
 sheets over their arms, and against their chests 
 already shivering with the cold. Around the bleak 
 ferries, and up and down the streets, on the cold 
 days, singing as merrily as though it were a 
 Christmas carol; making half a cent on each 
 
 Eaper, some of them worKing fourteen hours for 
 fty cents! Nine thousand of these newsboys 
 applied for aid at the Newsboys' Lodging-house 
 on New Chambers Street in one year. About 
 one thousand of them laid up in the savings bank 
 connected with that institution a httle more than 
 $3,000. But still this great army marches on, 
 hungry, cold, sick, toward an early grave or a 
 quick prison. I tell you there is nothing that so 
 moves my compassion as on a cold winter morn- 
 ing to see one of these newsboys, a fourth clad, 
 newspapers on his arm that he cannot seem to 
 sell, tace or hands bleeding from a fall, or rub- 
 bing his knee to relieve it from having been hit 
 
 on the side of a car, as some " gentleman " with 
 furs around hia neck and gauntlets lined with 
 lamb's wool, slioved him off, saymg: "You mis- 
 erable rat! " Yet hawking the papers through the 
 streets, papers full of railroad accidents and 
 factory explosions, and steamers foundering at 
 sea in the last storm, yet saying nothing, and that 
 which is to him worse than all the other calami- 
 ties and all the other disasters, the calamity that 
 he was ever born at all. Flash the police lantern 
 around, and let us see these poor lads cuddled 
 up under the stairway. Lookattheml Now for 
 a httle while they are unconscious of all their 
 pains and aches, and of the storm and the dark- 
 ness, once in a while struggling in their dreams 
 as though some one were trymg to take the papers 
 away from them. Standing there, I wondered if 
 it would be right to wish that they might never 
 wake up. God pity them! There are other 
 regiments in this reserve corjis — regiments of 
 rag-pickers, regiments of match-sellers, regi- 
 ments of juvenile vagrants. Oh! if these lads 
 are not saved, what is to become of our citit's '.' 
 
 THE DYINS NEWSBOY. 
 
 Ix an attic bare and cheerless. Jim, the newslniy, 
 
 dying lay. 
 On a rough but clean straw pallet, at the fading of 
 
 the day ; 
 Scant tlie furniture about him, but brigbt flowers 
 
 were in the room. 
 Crimson phloxes, wa.vi'u lilies, roses laileii wiili 
 
 perfume. 
 On a table by the bedside, open at a well-worn paite. 
 Where the mother had been reading, lay a Bible 
 
 stained by age. 
 Now he could not hear the voices; he was flighty, 
 
 and she wept. 
 With her arms around her youngest, who close to 
 
 her side had crept. 
 
 Blacking boots and selling papers, in all weathers 
 
 day by day. 
 Brought upon poor Jim consumption, which was 
 
 eating life away. 
 And this cry came with his anguish, for each breath 
 
 a struggle cost. 
 " 'Ere's the morning Sun and '£/'<iM— latest news of 
 
 steamship lost. 
 Papers, mister? Morning pa pera? '" Then the cry 
 
 fell to a moan. 
 Which was changed a moment later to another 
 
 frenzied tone: 
 "Black yer boots, sir? Just a nickel' Shine 'em 
 
 like an even-star. 
 It grows late. Jack! Xight is coming. Evening 
 
 papers, here they are: " 
 
 Soon a mission teacher entered, and approached 
 
 the humble bed; 
 Then poor Jim's mind cleared an instant, with his 
 
 cool hand on his head. 
 ■' Teacher,'' cried he, "I remember what you said 
 
 the other day; 
 Ma's been reading of the Saviour, and through Him 
 
 I see my way. 
 He is with raef Jack. I charge you of our mother 
 
 take good care 
 When Jim's gone: Hark! boots or papers, whioli 
 
 win I t)e over there ? 
 Black yer l)oot9. sir? Shine 'em right up! Tapeis! 
 
 Read God's book instead, 
 Better'n papers that to die on: Jack " one gasp, 
 
 and Jim was dead! 
 
 Floating from that attic chamber came the teacher's 
 
 voice In prayer. 
 And it soothed" the bitter sorrow of the mourners 
 
 kneeling there. 
 He commended them to Heaven, while the tears 
 I rolled down his face. 
 j Thanking God that Jim had listened to sweet words 
 
 of peace and grace. 
 Ever 'mid the want and squalor of the wretched 
 
 and the poor, 
 Kind hearts find a ready welcome, and an always 
 
 open door. 
 For the sick are in strange places, mourning hearts 
 
 are everywhere. 
 And such need the voice of kindness, need sweet 
 
 sympathy and prayer. 
 
 TWO PEASES OF CITY UFE. 
 
 DwitxEBS in remote villages and farm-houses 
 escape, comparatively speaking, one trouble 
 whicn is constant with us in the metropolis and 
 throughout the Union in towns and cities. We 
 love music, and bear the utmost good-will to the 
 professors of this humanizing art. But in order 
 to our personal gratification, a prolonged ex- 
 
 Serience of street noises of all kinds has ren- 
 ered us fastidious as to the quality of the strains 
 which are rendered in our hearing. The noises 
 of the citv are sufficiently distracting without 
 augmentation from braying and discordant 
 bauds. Our good friends, the Germans, who 
 make on the whole such excellent citizens— so 
 
TME GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 45 
 
 orderly, intelligent aud industrioua— will forgive 
 U8 that wo lay to their charge one of the worst 
 inllictioua to bo uudergouo iu city reaideuce. 
 Quietly aittiug alouo iu the aludy, or in the eii- 
 joyiiieut of couveraatiott with ouo'a wife or a 
 ,fnoud, how pitilcHS la tho shock to the nervous 
 ■yatem caused by a sudden blast trotu tho rued 
 aud brass lUHtruiueulB of a band from the father- 
 land; aud how porvoraely these destroyers of 
 our peace of luind, and cruel disturbers of our 
 physical equilibrium, coutiuuo tho iiitlictiou 'I 
 Not that there are not traveling musicians of the 
 nation of Handel who wortluly accredit theui- 
 Holves to bu thoroughly capable in their arc, but 
 theso are few in number. As a rule, able per- 
 formera need not wander from town to town and 
 live hardly aud precariously as " tooting " vaga- 
 bonds do, the most of them. It ia somewhat 
 mysterious to ua, wo admit, that they generally 
 are ao strong and well apparently, atout of limb 
 aud their countonances ruddy with health. 
 That they are thus ia a powerful argument in 
 favor of plenty of exorcise taken in tho open air 
 and associated with aparo and aimple living. 
 Pampered, luxurioua people do not look as thev, 
 and they never will until they reform their nioae 
 of life. 
 
 Not to be too hard upon the Teutonic wander- 
 ers, whose noisy ministratioDs trouble us so 
 much, we can at least claim lor them that they 
 abuse their livoa less than their brother tramps, 
 who do nothing but beg or steal in their pere- 
 gnnationa. This does not justify their probable 
 indisposition to work otherwise tlian iu a man- 
 ner which ia not, on the whole, a public bleaaing. 
 But we would not forget that children are apt to 
 enjoy anything in the world which may be called 
 music. Inexperienced and healthy, they will 
 dance iu the glee of their young hearts to the 
 grosaeat perveraions of the muaical art; and ao 
 we will try to be content— very much because we 
 cannot do otherwise, we fear — with that which 
 makes them happy. 
 
 There are streets in this metropolis, the very 
 meanest of tho mean, where musical and other 
 tramps find accommodations. Here they lie 
 down in their daytime clothing, and in a stifling 
 atmosphere snore away the hours of the night. 
 Happy, we are disposed to think, must be the 
 change to the warm atraw in the barn, or the 
 less crowded (piarters m amaller towna when 
 they are taking a round for the benefit (?) of our 
 friends in tho country. 
 
 City life presenta uoaadder consideration than 
 that childhood aud youth are so largely abused 
 to the prejudice of order and honesty. There 
 are in New York, 3,000 professional thieves of 
 different claaaea. On the principle that " birda 
 of a feather flock together, these people crowd 
 each other in quarters known to the police and 
 the public aa disreputable aud dangerous. They 
 are ot all ages, from gray-haired men and women 
 who have retired from the activities of life, to 
 tender children, unmatructed in everything pure 
 and good, who, from the firat dawn of intelli- 
 gence, are taught how to war upon society — lost 
 from their very birth. The boys are taiight by 
 " old Experience " how to take the pocket-hand- 
 kerchief and purse with least risk of detection. 
 Dickens has described this lesson in one of his 
 best known stories. There is the dressed dum- 
 my, upou which haug bells to ring in case the 
 young practitioner manipulates clumsily in his 
 endeavor to get at the handkerchief " in the 
 pocket. The veteran sinner superintends the 
 lessou, which he enforces by alternate coaxing 
 and threatening. An advanced pupil interested- 
 ly contemplates the progress of another in a road 
 over which he has already trodden. Within a 
 few weeks, probably, the young Arab— insensi- 
 ble, aa yet, of wrong-doing, for his moral con- 
 sciousness ia a stranger to enlightenment and 
 culture — will be sent out to make hia living on 
 the atreet, and if he returns with apoil wiU be 
 applauded, if without will be mercileaaly 
 whipped. It will be well for him that he doea 
 not return at all; that a policeman arreata him 
 in tho attempt to steal, and he is consigned to 
 a reformatory school, and taught the way to grow 
 up to be a working man and not a thief, a help 
 and not a drawback to the progress of society. 
 .Should it be otherwise with him, the thief of 
 trifles will grow up into the flash pickpocket or 
 the burglar, carrying his life in hia hand in hia 
 perilous adventures into the houaes of people 
 who command the wealth to render the deapoil- 
 ing of their homes a paying nak to run. Sooner 
 or later, probably, retribution will overtake him. 
 Perhaps a pistol ball will terminate hia life, or 
 he will aerve out one term of impriaonment and 
 another and another— an outcast, a hopeless 
 Ishmaelite. And how many there are of his class 
 who degenerate into such a shocking disregard 
 of the value of life, thatu* quarrel or in the pur- 
 
 suit of a burglarious intention, they will not 
 scruple to commit murder, and termiuato their 
 miserable lives at the haudJi of the executioner. 
 
 BLACK-MAILING AS AN AET. 
 
 (From " iiuiuihiiie and S?iail<>w iii. A>io York,'' by 
 Matthew Hale smith.) 
 
 New York ia full of adroit rogues. Men and 
 women abound here who live by their wits. Hid- 
 ing thoniselvea in the multitude of our people, 
 watching their chances and tboir victims, they 
 are seldom detected. Blaok-mailiiig is reduced 
 to a system. It is carried on by street-walkers, 
 stragglers on the pavement, loungera about ho- 
 tela, keepers of dance-cellars, panel-thieves, and 
 criminals of all grades. In cases of black-mail- 
 ing, whore relief is at once sought, the detective 
 force are often able to restore the money. Usu- 
 ally the victim criminates himself so far that he 
 ia unwilling to appear before tho courts; so that 
 if the money is restored, which is seldom tho 
 caae, the rogue escapes. Men come to New York 
 to see " the elephant." They are not fond of ex- 
 hibiting their wounds if they are struck by his 
 trunk. Itural gentlemen, who, from the steps of 
 their hotel, follow a bland stranger who offers to 
 show tliem the sightu of the city, are not willing 
 to tell how they lost their watches or purses. 
 They had rather lose their property than have 
 their names get into the paper. The black- 
 mailers understand this; aud when they rob a 
 man, thev ao commit the victim, that he can make 
 no complaint to the authoritiea without diahouor- 
 ing himaelf. 
 
 A WIOOWEB BLACKMAILED. 
 
 A man about fifty-five years old came from the 
 rural districts to spend a little time in the city. 
 He waa wealthy, reapectable, and the father of 
 two children. He selected hia quarters up-town. 
 Among the boarders was an attractive California 
 widow. Tho widow and the widower soon be- 
 came quite intimate. Both seemed captivated. 
 By mutual consent a suite of rooms was taken, 
 handaomely furniahed, and occupied by the par- 
 ties. A few daya after the removal, the gentle- 
 man was greeted with an unpleasant surprise on 
 entering his room. A stranger sat in hie chair, 
 who announced himself as tho husband of tho 
 woman, and demanded heavy damages for dis- 
 honor done to his name. The old man was fright- 
 ened nearly out of hia wits. Had he gone to the 
 police force, aud put himself in their hands, all 
 would have been well. But he did as most men 
 do under such circumstances — he offered a large 
 sum of money to hush the matter up, keep it out 
 of the papers, and be allowed to depart. He 
 paid the money, settled the bills, left the elegant 
 lurniture, packed his trunks and departed. 
 
 He was not lost sight of, however, for a mo- 
 ment. The parties knew their man, and hia 
 means; knew hia standing, and the value he put 
 on his good name. He was dogged constantly; 
 he was drawn upon for large sums of money; 
 he was threatened with exposure, till, driven to 
 desperation and almost beggary, ho did what he 
 should have done at first— went to the police 
 headquarters and made a clean breast of it. 
 The chief of the detectivea took the case into his 
 own hands. On a new demand for money being 
 made, the chief opened a negotiation, through a 
 friend, to see if a settlement could not be made, 
 so that the victim, by paying a certain sum, 
 might bo free from further annoyance. The 
 chief worked up the husband. He turned up 
 too conveniently not to be a rogue. He waa 
 tracked to Boston, where he had a wife and 
 children living. The Boston marriage was es- 
 tablished. The black-mailera were met at the 
 appointed hour. The aum demanded was agreed 
 upon, and the chief was ready to pay the money 
 as soon as the parties signed a receipt. The 
 adroit rogues declined to put pen to paper, and 
 the detective dechned to pay the money which 
 he held in his hand. Blustering and threaten- 
 ing seemed to have no effect on the resolute 
 friend. The haudle of a pistol conveniently 
 peeping out from the detective's bosom, and the 
 cool manner of the negotiator, indicating that he 
 knew how to use it, admonished the black- 
 mailers that an attempt to get the money by force 
 would not succeed. The receipt was signed. 
 The chief coolly put it into his pocket, with the 
 money which he neld in hia band. The rogues 
 knew at once he was a detective. The principal 
 one claimed the woman as his wife, ana aaid be 
 had a lawful right to aettle the caae as he pleased. 
 "If that woman is your wife," said the detec- 
 tive, "then 111 try you for bigamy, and send you 
 to Sing Sing." Amid much blustering and many 
 threats he was taken to tho Tombs. He was 
 
 found to be an old offender. Graver Crimea 
 rose up against hiiu. Uo was tried, aud seut to 
 Hing ISiug. The victim waa relieved from fur- 
 ther i>it<irtion. His money, gone, could not be 
 regained. He relurued to his rural home satis- 
 fied with hia New York experience. 
 
 A MINISTER FALLS AMO.NO TBlEVEH. 
 
 On Broadway, below Fourteenth Street, stood 
 a church that at ouo time was one of tho mom 
 fashiouable lu the city. The cougregalion was 
 wealthy and large, the minister eloquent and 
 popular. The belles of the city, with tiie young 
 and the fashionable, crowded the church when 
 tho pastor lilled the pulpit. In the full flush of 
 his popularity, when a pew could not be hired at 
 any price, when any salary would have been 
 paid to him that he demanded, the minister dis- 
 appeared. Quito lato on Saturday night the 
 vestry received a letter from the rector, dated 
 off Sandy Hook. Tho letter tendered the rector'a 
 lesignation, and announced that he had sailed 
 that day at noon in one of the Cuuard atoamcrs 
 for Europe. Tho parish were surprised aud 
 alarmed. The whole afl'air was a painful mys- 
 tery. Hero was a minister, settled over a flour- 
 ishing aud liberal charge, with a fine church 
 and parsonage, a church crowded with the elito 
 of the city, with a salary equal to any demands 
 ho might make, with the best Bulging in the city, 
 and all the popular appliauces, who liad sudden- 
 ly resigned, and privately left tho country, to go 
 no one knew where. 
 
 The story is a romance. The explanation 
 came after tho minister had completed his Euro- 
 pean tour. At midnight the door-bell of his 
 parsonage was violently rung. Going to tho 
 window, the minister saw a man standing on hia 
 door-stone, and ho demanded his business. Ho 
 came with a message, he aaid, from a dying 
 woman. Haatily dresaing himself, the good 
 man came to tho door and received the measagc. 
 Juat around the block was a poor woman and she 
 waa dymg. Her only treaaure was a babe. She 
 could not die in peace unless her babe waa bap- 
 tized. If his reverence would come to her dying 
 pillow, and administer that aacrament, the bless- 
 ing of a poor dying woman would bo his reward. 
 It was much to ask, aud at midnight too, but his 
 great Master, who loved the poor, would not have 
 denied such a request as this. 
 
 His humane aud religious sympathies were 
 aroused, and tho minister followed the mesaen- 
 ger. Common prudence would have said, " Take 
 a policeman with you. Call up a friend, and get 
 him to bear part iu the ceremony." But, dream- 
 ing of no peril, he went on his way to do, as he 
 thought, nis Master's will. He waa soon in a 
 dissolute region, in a street notorious for its un- 
 cleanness. The messenger knocked at a heavy 
 gate, that closed up a narrow, dark alley. It 
 opened immediately, and slammed behind the 
 parties like a prison door. Through a long, 
 narrow, and unwholesome entry, that aeemed to 
 be an alley-way covered, the parties took their 
 way. They passed up a narrow atair-caae, brok- 
 enand rickety. Lewd women were passed ou 
 the stairs. Dark-featured and villainous-look- 
 ing men seemed to crowd the place. With his 
 sacred vestments on his arm, and his book of 
 service in his hand, the minister was ushered 
 into a dark and unwholesome looking room. 
 The door was closed behind him, aud locked. A 
 dim candlo on the table revealed the outline of a 
 dozen persons, male and female, of the most 
 abandoned and desperate class. His inquiry 
 for the sick woman, and the child to be baptized, 
 waa greeted by shouts of laughter. He knew he 
 was a victim. ' He demanded the reason for this 
 outrage. He waa informed that hie frienda who 
 had invited him there wanted money. His 
 standing and character were well known. He 
 waa in one of the moat notorious houses in New 
 York; his midnight visit to that place waa well 
 known, and could easily be proved. If he paid 
 one thousand dollars, all would be well. If not, 
 his ruin waa certain. InstoAd of defying the vil- 
 lains, calling on the police, or confiding in his 
 congregation, he thought he could hush the mat- 
 ter up. He might have known that it would all 
 come out, and that every dollar he paid would 
 be used as evidence against him, or as means to 
 extort more. But he was thoroughly frightened; 
 would not have tho thing known for the world; 
 hia hand was in the lion's mouth, and he must 
 draw it out aa easilv as he could; ao he gave his 
 obligation to pav the money promptly at noon 
 the next day, which he did. Of course new de- 
 mands were made from time to time. He waa 
 dogged in the afreets. Suapicioua-looking men 
 Btopped to apeak with him on the comers. No- 
 torious men rang hia door-bell. Myaterious 
 notea, from ignorant, low-bred, and vioioua per- 
 aona— as the spelhng and language showed— 
 
46 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 came to hia bauds, aud iuto the hands of his 
 family. The poor man was nearly distracted. 
 He paid away hia own money, and borrowed till 
 bis reputation suffered. The threat of exposure 
 hung over him like an ominous sword held by a 
 hair. In a moment of desperation be decided to 
 leave the country, which he did, to the astonish- 
 ment and regret of bis friends. 
 
 On bis return from Europe, the rector settled 
 In Massacbusetta, over a small rural parish. He 
 was soon tracked to bis country home. Black- 
 mailing was renewed. Hia old terror came upon 
 him. Again he acceded to the extortion. The 
 police of New York at lengtli came to bis relief. 
 lu searching for oiher game, tliey came upon 
 proof that this minister was in the hands of 
 black-mailers. Letters were found containing 
 Information of bis whereabouts, bow to terrify 
 him, what sums to demand, and at what time 
 his salary was due. He was relieved from his 
 pursuers. The large sums he had paid were 
 not refunded. His spirits were broken, and he 
 has never recovered bis position. I saw him not 
 long since in Canada. He holds a subordinate 
 position, aud is preaching to a small parish. He 
 will die a victim of black-mailing. 
 
 BLACK-MAILERS AT A WEDDING. 
 
 A faahionable wedding is a harvest season for 
 black-Qiailers, especially if the bridegroom baa 
 been known as a fast young man. No bank 
 keeps a better account of the whereabouts and 
 standing of its depositors, than do black-mailers 
 of tlie whereabouts, standing, and movements of 
 their victims. A wedding among New York high 
 life 13 talked about. Invitations are greedily 
 seized. The elite are all agog. On the morning 
 of the day previous to the wedding, a lady comes 
 to the st&re, aud aska for the young man. Her 
 business ia announced as important. She must 
 Bee the young gentleman. The " must"' is em- 
 {>hatic. At sucu a time, when all are so aensi- 
 tive, and when, as is often the case, a fortune 
 hangs on the bridal wreatli, it is important to 
 have no scenes. A thrill through the frame of 
 the young gentleman called for, the hurrying 
 back of his blood from the face to the heart, tells 
 that hia time has come. He goes to the inter- 
 view as the ox goes to the slaughter. Be the 
 claim real or bogus, hush-money ia generally 
 paid. 
 
 A BBIDE CALLED ON. 
 
 A call is not nnfrcquently made at the home 
 of the young lady to be married. It is a wo- 
 man that calls, in a shabby-genteel arrar, to 
 excite sympathy. The call is made a week or 
 ten days before the wedding. Every step is 
 consummately taken, and tells in the right di- 
 rection. The young lady is called for l)y the 
 woman, who seems to possess a wounded spirit. 
 Her appearance, the toue of her voice, the ex- 
 pression of her face, bespeak one who has been 
 greatly wronged, or who lias some great Borrow 
 at heart. The acting is consummate. Of course 
 the young lady is not at home to strangers. 
 She then asks if the young man is in; if it is 
 true that he is going to bo married ; if any one 
 can tell her where ho can bo found— questions 
 intended to create anxious imiuiry at tlie break- 
 fast table: "Who can that woman bo i* What 
 can she want of Charlie V Why did she ask so 
 particularly about his being iuarriedy" The 
 frightened maiden runs to her lover, and Bays: 
 "Oh, Charlie, there was a woman here this 
 morning for you! She seemed so poor and sad! 
 Slio wanted to know where you could bo found. 
 She wanted to know if you "were to be married 
 soon. Whoissho? What can she want of yon?" 
 A nice preparation this for the visit of the black- 
 mailer on Charlie at the store. 
 
 A bolder step is not nnfroquentlv taken. As 
 the bridal companv are enjoying themselves in 
 an up-town first-class residence, an emphatic 
 ring announces an impatient comer. The bride- 
 groom is asked for, and the footman bade to 
 say that a lady wants to see him. The imperious 
 air of the woman plainly tolls the footman, " If 
 he refuses to see me there'll bo trouble." The 
 footman, well acnuainlcd with high life in New 
 York, knows well what the visit of the woman 
 means. Ho has the honor of the family in hie 
 charge. Ho whispers the request of tlio" woman 
 to the startled bridegroom. But what can be 
 done? The woman is notorious, and well known. 
 She understands her business, and is unscrupu- 
 lous. Threats and entreaty will be alike un- 
 availing. Ten men could not put her off that 
 step-stone. She would cling to that iron railinp; 
 witri the strength of a maniac. She would 
 rouse the whole neighborhood by her acreeches, 
 accusations, and blasphemies. The party would 
 break up in exciteniBnt. The scandal would 
 run through all Newiork; the papers would be 
 
 full of it; the police might take her away, but 
 she would rend the air with her tears aud strong 
 crying. All these considerations are taken into 
 account by the black-mailers. A private settle- 
 ment is usually made, and the unreasonable 
 visitor departs. 
 
 ANOTHER MODE. 
 
 The announcement in the papers of marriage 
 in high life, at the residence of the bride's 
 father, docs more than give information to the 
 curious. It is a bugle-call to black-mailers. 
 A young husband, just admitted a partner with 
 the father-in-law, whose repute is without a 
 stain, wboae success in lile depends upon an 
 unblemished character, is overwhelmed with the 
 threat that unless a sum of money is paid at a 
 giveu time, an infamous charge shall be made 
 against him. An unmanly fear, a cowardly 
 dread of being accused of a crime never com- 
 mitted, a wish to shield from sorrow tlie young 
 being ho has just led to the altar, often lead a 
 young man to yield to the demands of black- 
 mailers if they "will take themselves off. They 
 depart for a time, only to return to renew the de- 
 mand, making the one payment a reason for 
 asking more. 
 
 BLACK-MAILER FOILED. 
 
 I know a young man of marked business abili- 
 ty. He was superintendent of a Sunday school 
 a'nd a young partner in an important house. His 
 marriage gave him a fine social position. About 
 three months after his return from bis wedding 
 trip, a woman called upon him at his store. 
 She seemed to be quite well acquainted with him, 
 and told her errand in a business-like style. She 
 wanted five hundred dollars, and must have it. 
 He could give it to her. If he did, all would bo 
 well. If be did not, abe would make trouble in 
 bis store, and trouble in his family. People 
 would believe her, suspicion would attach to liiui, 
 and he could never shake it off. She gave him 
 a limited time to make up bis mind; placed her 
 card in bis hand, aud departed. The young man 
 had sense and pluck. He went to a detective, 
 and placed the matter in his bauds. The de- 
 tective force in an institution in New York. Its 
 members are shrewd, cool, talented and effi- 
 cient. They are everywhere, and in all dis- 
 guises. They represent all professions. They are 
 unknown to rogues, and are, therefore, success- 
 ful ia their efforts to detect criminals and to re- 
 lieve their victims. Assuming the role of a 
 friend, the detective called upon the woman. She 
 was young, intelligent, well-dressed, seemingly 
 modest. She professed to bo adverse to a dis- 
 solute life, and charged that she had stepped 
 aside under tlie solemn promise of marriage. 
 Slie gave timca aud places when she met tlio 
 voiing man, aud her candor aud modesty would 
 have deceived any one but a detective. She had 
 rooms in a repiitablo house, and gave the name 
 of her employer. With thia statoiucut the con- 
 spiracy was revoalad. One of the tunes men- 
 tioned, the young man was in Europe during the 
 whole year on buaiucss for the house. The sec- 
 ond time specified, he was absent from the city 
 the whole month on his wedding tour, with the 
 family of his senior partner. The room where 
 the interview was held was borrowed for the oc- 
 casion of a casual acquaintanco, who know noth- 
 ing of the disreputable cliaracler of the woman. 
 The plot was blown iuto the air. The woman 
 confessed her conspiracy, gave the names of he. 
 associates, aud was marched off to the Tombs. 
 
 HOTEL BEOISTEBS, AJfD BLACK-MAIL. 
 
 Some of the newspapers print the arrivals at 
 the principal hotels daily. These arrivab aru 
 used for black-mailing purposes. Letters ar.- 
 written to strangers in the city, and placed in 
 their hotel box. These letters pretencl to bo on 
 business, or to revive old acquaintance, or the 
 writers profess to know the family. A friend 
 of mine, a stranger in the city, found in his box 
 at the hotel a letter, of which this ia a copy: 
 
 "Sir: Seeing your arrival in tUo paper to-day, 
 and thinking, perhaps, you were a stranger lu the 
 city, and might want genial company, I have ven- 
 tured to send you my card. 
 
 " Yours, respectfully, 
 
 • » ^?) 
 
 Exposures, warnings, fines, imprijonments, do 
 little towards breaking up black-mailing. Vic- 
 tims from the country are too numerous, the re- 
 ward is too dazzling, the chances of escape too 
 certain, to turn the adroit and bold rogues from 
 a trade that yields so rich a revenue. The best 
 Bocurity to the swindler is the almost certainty 
 that the victim, from shame, or dread of having 
 his name appear in print, and consequent ex- 
 posure to bis friends, will pocket lua loss and 
 keep quiet. 
 
 BIVER THIEVES. 
 
 Ever since the days of Saul and Howlett, a 
 full account of whose crimes and punishment will 
 be found in the " Secrets of the Tombs," organ- 
 ized bands of pii-ates and river thieves have in- 
 fested both shores of the East Biver. 
 
 Elver thieves as a class are more reckless ol 
 human life than either burglars or higbwavnien. 
 They believe in the doctrine that " dead men tel! 
 no tales;" they always go well armed, aud never 
 hesitate to sacrifice "life rather than jeopardize 
 their own liberty. They are like wharf rat«, as 
 much at home in the water as on shore, aud 
 when once they have committed a robbery or 
 murder, if too closely chased, they are prepared 
 to Jump overboard, dive under a pier, and thus 
 escape arrest or even detection, as has often 
 been done. Probably within a day or two after- 
 ward the vessel they have robbed and the friends 
 of the man they have murdered will have gone 
 to sea. Thus the circumstances will soon die 
 out of the recollection of the detectives, who, not 
 stimulated by the hope of a reward, will, of 
 course, fail to make any efforts to discover the 
 perpetrators of what the newspapers will style 
 " Another river outrage." The river thieves" of 
 New York and Brooklyn are divided into two 
 classes — namely, those "who steal from the docks 
 in the day tim"e, and those who board and rob 
 vessels by night. In Brooklyn the former class 
 abound. Though troublesome, they are not con- 
 sidered dangerous. New York is the haven oi" 
 tho more desperate class; men born on tlie river 
 who have graduated in crime, and who, after 
 serving several terms in reformitories, jails and 
 penitentiaries, come forth full-fiedged pirates, 
 ready to scuttle a ship, rob a cabin, cut a throat, 
 or throw a watchman overboard. 
 
 This class belongs to the peculiar inalitutiona 
 of New York City, while Brooklyn dock thieves, 
 less known, cruise from Hudso"n Avenue to the 
 Atlantic dock, paying occasional visits to the 
 Wallabout, back of the Navy Yard dock, and 
 sometimes inside the Cob dock of the Navy Yard, 
 thence to that still sparsely settled region be- 
 tween the built-up portion of WiUiamsburgh and 
 Brooklyn proper. If closely pressed they leave 
 their boats and their "swag" and soon tlnd 
 refuge in tho classic regions of Irishtown. 
 
 Twenty years ago river pirates were more nu- 
 merous if not more daring than they are to-day. 
 Their exploits make a perfect romance of crime. 
 Devoid of aenaationabsm, it ia a chapter in tho 
 criminal history of Now York and Brooklyn as 
 thrilling and interesting as it is true. 
 
 Many old citizens will recollect the excitement 
 caused by the murder of a watchman on board 
 the ship William Watson, lying between James 
 Slip and Oliver Street, nearly thirty years ago. 
 Three river thieves boarded the vessel at night 
 for the purpose of committing a robbery. They 
 were discovered by the watchman while in the 
 act of rifling the cabin, and thiuking to escape 
 detection by murder, a shot was fired. The 
 watchman fell dead, shot through the nock, but 
 the pistol shot had been heard by a vigilant po- 
 liceman, and the result was the murderers were 
 arrested. 
 
 They proved to be Saul, Howlett, and one 
 Johnson, all well-known river thieves. Johnson 
 turned States evidence, and Saul and Howlett 
 wore banged. Johnson, it is hinted, was killed 
 by Bill Lowrio and others of tho Saul and How- 
 lett gang for having "given them away." At 
 any rate, Lowrio and " Slobbery Jim " became 
 the leaders of the gang, with their headquarters 
 at Slaughter- House Point, a low saloon at tho 
 corner of Water Street and James Slip, kept by 
 Peter Williams, formerly of New Orleans. After 
 seven murders had been committed there, the 
 place was closed by Captain (now Inapectorl 
 Thome, of the Fourth Ward police. Then Low- 
 rie and his reputed wife opened a grogshop in 
 Water Sti-ect, ucar Oliver, next door to " Bilker's 
 Hall." It was called " Tho Iliaing Statea," and 
 for many years was the headquarters of the river 
 thieves." About this time Charley Mounell be- 
 came a recognized power among the thieves and 
 murderers in the Fourth Ward. Ho opened a 
 place iu Dover Street, which he called the " Hole 
 in the Wall," and soon made his den attractive to 
 hia kindred spirits. It was there that "Slob- 
 bery Jim" stabbed and killed " Patsy the Bar- 
 ber;" it was there that thieves and junkmen 
 would meet to "put up jobs;" it was there that 
 men were drugged and robbed and women 
 beaten under Mounell's directions; it was there 
 that young thieves became graduates in crime. 
 
 Ill 1858 tho pirates were stronger, more numer- 
 ous and better organized than they had been 
 since Saul aud Howlett were hanged. The police 
 of the Fourth Ward bad nightly encounters with 
 the river thieves, and Roundsman B'air and Of- 
 
THIE OREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 47 
 
 E; 
 
 £ccr8 SpraH and Oilbert were making themselvefl 
 nutonous by ehooting a round dozen of the pi- 
 rates within a yjar. "Slobbery Jim" had mean- 
 wlule made his escape, and never more was 
 heard of until he turuod up as captain of a com- 
 )auy of rebels duriug the late war; Bill Lowrie 
 jad been sent to State Prison for fifteen years; 
 Sam McCarthy had given up the river and become 
 a burglar, and the rest of the mob had moved up- 
 town toward tlie Hook, or to the neighborhood of 
 the Brooklyn Navy Yard. And thus the old Saul 
 and Howlclt gang dropped out of existence, and 
 to a great I'Xteut out of the recollection of almost 
 cviiyliody. 
 
 About this time business began to increase in 
 the Seventh Ward. Junkmen, who, as a class, are 
 not inquisitive and buy anything from anybody 
 without asking any questions about where it 
 came from, began moving from the Fourth to the 
 .Soveutli Ward. They seemed to do a thriving 
 business. This mob did their work very quietly 
 for several years, and were really being lorgot- 
 ton except by the junkmen, when Perry the 
 junkman, shot and killed ex-polico officer Thom- 
 as Hayes at the Harbeck Stores, Furman Street. 
 Perry the junkman was one of the New York 
 mob,' and Hayes was employed as a private de- 
 tective at Harbeck Stores. It was found neces- 
 sary to kill Hayes in order to commit a particu- 
 lar robbery, and his life was sacrificed. With a 
 bullet la bis breast, his life's blood flowing out in 
 forrente, poor Hayes jumped on & passing horse- 
 car, and as he fell into a scat, be said to the as- 
 tonished passengers: 
 
 " My name is Thomas Hayes. 1 am a private 
 watchman at Harbeck Stores. Ned Perry shot 
 me," and died. 
 
 The murderer escaped hanging, and is now 
 serving out a life sentence in Stale Prison. 
 
 Four years of comparative quiet again elapsed, 
 and the scenes of these midnight murders and 
 robberies had again been transferred, this time 
 to the neighborhood of the Battery. Vigilance 
 on the part of the police soon drove them away, 
 however, and the old ground was visited again. 
 The old river thieves had all been " settled,'" 
 and the young ones were ambitious. 
 
 This was the condition of affairs when, on the 
 the night of May 29, 1873, Joseph Gayles, one 
 Mahoney, a first-class river thief, and" Billy " 
 Woods, formerly a stone-cutter but now a mur- 
 derer and expert river thief, stole a boat from 
 the foot of JacKson Street, and with muffled oars 
 
 Eulled down stream to pier 27, East River. They 
 oarded the brig Margaret, of New Orleans, and 
 while ransacking the captain's trunk awakened 
 the captain and mate. A scuffle ensued, which 
 resultod^in the thieves leaving the brig and tak- 
 ing to their boat. An alarm brought Officers 
 Musgravo and Kelly to the scene of the attempted 
 robbery. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning, the sky 
 was overcast, and not a star was to be seen. As 
 Musgrave flashed his dark lantern under the 
 pier, he saw a boat starting out. Throwing the 
 rays of his lantern full upon it, three men stood 
 up, revolvers in hand, and the firing began. 
 ^l^Bgrave's first shot gave Gayles his death 
 wound. 
 
 The officers continued their firing until they 
 had emptied their pistols, but the thieves es- 
 caped in the darkness, and pulled over toward 
 the Long Island shore. Gayles fainted from 
 loas of blood, and his companions, thinking he 
 was dead, threw him overboard to lighten the 
 boat. The water revived him, and he begged 
 piteously to be taken in the boat again. This was 
 3one after much trouble, but as soon as he 
 touched the thwart he gasped and died. The 
 boat was again stopped mid stream and the life- 
 less body of Gayles, with the tell-tale bullet hole 
 through the breast, was thrown to the waters, 
 but lour days afterward it came to the surface at 
 the foot of Stanton Street, within sight from the 
 residence of the dead river thief. Secrecy was 
 no longer possible, and now the thieves them- 
 selves admit that their pal was killed by Of- 
 ficer Musgrave, of the Fourth Precinct police. 
 Gayles's just fate did notpreventthe commission 
 of other robberies. 
 
 Soon after, the brig ilattano, Captain Connmg- 
 ton, was boarded off the Battery by a gang of 
 masked and armed men. The captain and his 
 wife were subjected to many indignities and then 
 robbed of everything of value they had on board 
 the vessel. For this crime two well known nver 
 thieves, Dougan and Carroll, were arrested, 
 tried, convicted and sentenced to twenty years' 
 imprisonment in State Prison. They confessed 
 they had been river thieves all their lives, but 
 denied all knowledge of the crime with which 
 they were charged. Despite their prayers, pro- 
 testations and oaths, thev were convicted, but it 
 has recently been made known to the authorities 
 
 that the robbery was committed by Brady, Grif- 
 fin and Conroy. These three men belonged to 
 the gang of masked burglars who had been com- 
 mitting such terrible depredations in the subur- 
 ban villages. Brady is a man well known to 
 sporting men who travel down the Coney Island 
 road; a medium-sized man with broad Hhouldcrs 
 and powerful build. 
 
 In quick succession several othci daring rob- 
 beries were perpetrated duriug the month of De- 
 cember, 1873. First came the robbery of the bark 
 Zouma, at Pier 22, East Uiver. Louis Englemau, 
 a Fourth Ward river thief, who lived at 57 Hose 
 Street, New York, was the thief. He was cap- 
 tured by Sergeant Blair, of the Second Precinct, 
 after a chase of three hours, during which ho 
 jumped overboard, and while hanging on to the 
 rudder of a three-masted schooner, at pier 27, 
 was thrown a rope by a policeman. 
 
 lie dove under vessels and docks, and for a 
 long time defied half a dozen officers in boats, 
 but he was at length captured, and is now doing 
 the State some service. The following night an 
 attempt was made to steal some bales of cotton- 
 duck from Pier 8, North River. The watchman 
 gave the alarm, which brought Officer Mulrooney 
 and Captain Lowrie t-o the scene. The thieves', 
 as thev pulled away in their boat, opened fire 
 upon the officers, which the latter returned, ap- 
 parently with good effect, as one man was heard 
 to exclaim: " Oh, I'm shot," but no trace of a 
 dead or wounded river thief has since been 
 found. 
 
 The " Hook Gang " of river thieves, which was 
 at that time formidable, was composed of the 
 remnant of the successors of Saul and Howlett. 
 Its chief spirits were Merricks, a desperate and 
 bold thief, capable of committing any crime, 
 James Coffee, who has served one term" in State 
 Prison, and has hia likeness in the rogues' al- 
 bum, Le Strange and Lewis, highwaymen, bur- 
 glars, river thieves, or pick-pockets, as occasion 
 might require; Preslin, a daring thief, Riley, who 
 was soon after sent to Sing Sing, and his three 
 pals, McCracken, Gallagher and Bonner. This 
 choice crowd held forth at the foot of Stanton 
 Street, across the ferry, and operated anywhere 
 between Fourteenth Street and the Battery. The 
 week before Christmas, 1873, the canal boat 
 Thomas H. Brick was lying off the foot of Four- 
 teenth Street. Shortly after midnight, on the 
 morning of December 20, she was boarded by 
 Sam McCracken, John (^allagher and Tommy 
 Bonner. With pistols in their hands they con- 
 fronted the captain, who succeeded in giving the 
 alarm before he was bound and gagged. The 
 battle was short and decisive. Officer Booz and 
 Captain M. J. Murphy arrested them, and they 
 were sent up three and a half years each, to 
 Auburn State Prison. Thev were all very des- 
 perate characters, though feonner was only 21 
 years of age, Gallagher 19 and McCracken 20 
 years of age. 
 
 Beyond a few petty dock thieves who infest the 
 First Ward, New York, and are kept in subjec- 
 tion, and the scoundrels who prowl along the 
 Brooklyn piers, and whose histories are not dif- 
 ferent from those of other sneak thiercs, there is 
 now no regular organized mob worthy of extend- 
 ed notice. But there are numerous fierce, des- 
 perate and successful buccaneers who ply the 
 nver in pursuit of prey. 
 
 The prey of the river pirate is anything that 
 offers. He has no choice as long as it will bring 
 money in, and from a sack of coffee to an anchor 
 and cable all is fish that comes into his net. The 
 romance of his dark career is less in the career 
 itself than in the circumstances under which it is 
 followed. 
 
 It is night, the city's myriad lights are mirrored 
 in the waters and the ferry boats flash from shore 
 to shore, their paddle beats sounding in the 
 gloom like the pinions of some strange birds, 
 when the boat of the river thief shoots out from 
 its concealment like au evil spirit of the night. 
 Shrouded by the murkiness of the night the boat 
 glides into mid-stream and the muffled oars are 
 plied by strong and skillful arms. There are 
 three men in the boat and from their unwavering 
 course it is evident that their business has been 
 well planned. The river-thief never goes looking 
 after stray trifles. Before each foray he has been 
 inatructecl by the captain of the gang of the work 
 expected of him. His only is it to find the means, 
 and his long experience renders this an easy 
 matter. 
 
 The occupants of the boat in mid-stream have 
 made a survey, and see no hindrances; they pull 
 rapidly in shore and listen for the sound of the 
 spy on the dock to tell them whether or not the 
 police boat is in waiting for them. The signal is 
 favorable, and under the shadows of the docks 
 and ferry -houses, the light skiff ia impelled swift- 
 ly and silently to its destination. A brig lies in 
 
 the river, and alongside her the boat pulls and 
 is made fast to her chains. Stealthily one of the 
 crew of the boat climbs to the deck of the vessel, 
 and carefully appropnate.H whatever loone pieces 
 of chain ancf rope lie about, but while doing this 
 he does not neglect to note the iireHeiice or ab- 
 sence, drowsiness or watchlulucHS of t)ie guard, 
 for it may be that the booty is rich, and lies in 
 the cabin. If this be the case, four men have 
 been sent, and they are desperate, resolute 
 pugilists, who, if death bo necessary to the suc- 
 cess of tlio venture, will not licsitate to take life 
 or sacrifice their own. 
 
 It sometimes happens that as the rivor-thiovcB 
 are seeking a haven of safety after a robbery and 
 as their bo&t glides quietly along in the dark", that 
 another is seen, and shooting out from behind 
 some wharf or from the shade of some vessel she 
 makim rapidly for the thieves. Tlicy see their 
 enemy and know it for the police boat. Now 
 comes the race. The pohce boat has more men, 
 and gaining rapidW on her prey the latter is 
 called on to surrentler. The answer is a laugh 
 of derision as the men lay aside their oars and 
 drawing weapons prepare to defend themselves 
 to the last. One shot fired at the police boat 
 brings a dozen in return and the fusilade is fast 
 and furious for a minute. A cry, " My God, 
 I'm shot," comes from the boat of the thieves 
 and when the police pull alongside tliey find all 
 the men wounded and faint but one, an^ he has 
 passed over the river to the Thither Shore. 
 
 The tales which these men, criminal as they 
 are, could tell of life at the water side would Ibrni 
 a page which might be read for the edification of 
 those who seek to know the dark side of life. 
 For, as the river-thief, like Rogue Riderhood, 
 pulls up and down in searcji of plunder, he not 
 infrequently hears the splash m the water that 
 tells liim of "Another Unfortunate" who has 
 ended a world of trouble and sorrow in that one 
 leap from life to death. He has seen them when 
 they first stood gazing moodily into the water 
 below and knew from his own experience of life 
 that they, contemplating in bitter agony the past 
 of sorrow and wondering how in the future they 
 may escape the judgment they have been taught 
 to believe is in store for them; he has seen the 
 last leap that has told of the first embrace of 
 death; he has noted the rising bubbles that tell 
 of the spirit departed, and the prow of his boat 
 has pushed aside from its course the floating 
 body. And yet none of these things have moved 
 him to reflection or to such reflection as brings 
 repentance and reformation. And when his trip 
 18 performed and he has "ome safely away witn 
 hia plunder, he resorts to the vilpst drinking sa- 
 loons of the river-side, and there in the company 
 of his "pals" he forgets the dangers he has 
 passed and sinks deeper and deeper into crime 
 in the exchange of ideas and experiences to be 
 put into practice at the first opportunity. 
 
 Such is the river-thief of New Y'ork, in life and 
 death. Doesanyof ray readers envy him? — From 
 " Crooked Life in Neu) York," pablisliedby Rich- 
 ard K. Fox. 
 
 QUEER METHODS OF SAINING A LIVELI- 
 HOOD. 
 
 Of the many peculiar methods certain in- 
 genious residents of New York adopt to gain a 
 livelihood, one of the most original is that of the 
 broker or speculator in small business plants. 
 One of these individuals thus described his 
 methods to a reporter of one of our daily news- 
 papers: 
 
 In a city like New York there are always a great 
 many business changes. In the sraaUer utores 
 along the avenues and in most of the cross busi- 
 ness streets above CAual, you can find parties 
 every day who are ready to sell out if they can 
 ouly close up without any very heavy loss. There 
 is an equal, or perhaps a greater number of men 
 who are ready to jump into any little business 
 which seems to promise them a modest com- 
 petence. All I do 18 to step in and relieve the 
 sellers at the lowest figures I can persuade him to 
 take, and accommodate the buyer at the highest 
 price 1 can get him to give. The difference is 
 my profit. 
 
 " For instance, I bought out this little cigar 
 store two weeks ago. I had my eye on it for some 
 time, and noticed tne premonitory symptoms of 
 earlv dissolution. I inquired in 'the neighbor- 
 hood when the man's rent would be due. Two 
 days before that time I made my appearance, 
 and got into easy conversation with him, in the 
 course of which he proposed selling out to me. 
 Then I obtained the very lowest price for fix- 
 tures, stock and the business separately. The 
 upshot of it was that I would pay nothing for the 
 business, because there was none, and cut down 
 
48 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 the prices of stock very materially. I appeared 
 to him to be about to make the offer, when I men- 
 tioned the rent. Then I told him I could not as- 
 sume 80 heavy an expense at the start, and went 
 away. The next day, being the day before the 
 rent was due, I stopped in agam for a cigar and 
 the man resumed the previous subject. We set- 
 tled at last, I agreeing to pay half the rent. I de- 
 manded immediate possession, and obtained it. 
 ( gave myself twenty-four hours to put on the 
 kncy touches. Scrubbers started in first, and 
 jere instantly followed by cheap paperhaugers 
 and white was hers. Then" the whole stock was 
 brushed up, the fresh sides of the boxes were 
 turned outward, unsightly objects were flung 
 into the yard or under the counter, and a cheap 
 but extremely lively oilcloth was put down where 
 it would make the best show. Then came the 
 stocking up. This is an art by itself, and a great 
 deal of your success in the business depends 
 upon it. You see, vou must so arrange that m 
 selling out you will not only get paid for your 
 ' business,' which has not cost vou anything, but 
 make a profit on your stock, which has cost next 
 door to It. Of course, I choose the cheapest but 
 showiest articles for a business like this, as the 
 man I propose to sell out to must be a green one. 
 A good many of that sort buy small cigar stores, 
 for there is a current opinion, largely held 
 among certain buyers of city plants, though it is 
 an erroneous one, that anybody cau run a cigar 
 store. Of course, I make the window bloom, and 
 almost always put in a new and brilliant chan- 
 delier of many burners. I always insist that the 
 incomer shall settle the gas bill. Then I hire an 
 assistant and advertise for a purchaser. I can 
 eoou tell if 1 have found the right kind of a chap. 
 1 talk to him very quietly and say little. Selling 
 a business is a delicate matter. Almost the 
 whole point is in striking the man's fancy. Yon 
 have fixed up your place with special reference 
 to this idea, and you can soon tell if he likes the 
 style. If not you can say nothing useful. In 
 either case you can tell him you are a little busy 
 and get him to come in at night — things always 
 look more lively then — and close the transaction 
 as soon as vou can." 
 
 DIVORCES IN NEW YORK. 
 
 ilvEBYyear, with the reopening of the courts, 
 there are almost innumerable applications for 
 divorce. Many of the applicants are young, and 
 have been married only a few years. I dare say 
 a pretty largo number of them will try matri- 
 mony again when they get rid of present con- 
 tractu. It 18 to open the way lor other ventures 
 in that line that many divorce suits are brought. 
 Husband or wife takes a fancy to some other per- 
 son for a partner, but present obligations stand 
 in the way. They cau be got out of the way only 
 by divorce^ so a lawyer is hunted up, a petition 
 filed, testimony produced, and, presto! the 
 whole business is done. But notalwavs honest- 
 ly done — oh, un, not by a very long shot. In a 
 great many cases the buaiuess is a fraud from 
 beginning to end. Judge Donohue, ol the Su- 
 premo Court, has signed quite a lot of divorce 
 decrees in his ume. He once said: " There is un- 
 doubtedly traud in many divorce cases, and 
 what I mean by that is that the business of ob- 
 taiuiug divorces by questionable means has not 
 been suppressed, notwithstanding the extra vigi- 
 lance to detect it now exorcised by the courts. 
 I myself have either suspected or boon convinced 
 in a number of cases that fraud had been prac- 
 ticed, yet was unable to obtam conclusive evi- 
 deuce to that effect, and the conspirators thus 
 escaped the punishment the law proscribes and 
 |which they merited." Who are the perpetrators 
 of the fraud ? Scalawag lawyers, of course. 
 There's 
 
 A OJLSa OF RASCAXJ-Y LAWYERS 
 
 ia New York who make a business of getting di- 
 vorces by crooked moans, and are always ready 
 to take up any case that comes along. They 
 have no professional standing, and respectable 
 lawyers uo not recognize them at all, but they 
 care nothing for that. Bread and butter is what 
 they are after, and thev'll do auythiug to get it. 
 The Tombs shyster of'^ the old "times was re- 
 garded on all sides as the lowest type of the pro- 
 tessiou. Wo have Tombs shysters still, but they 
 are no longer the lowest. The lawyers who 
 make a specialty of divorces are rightfully 
 entitled to that rank, and get it. Their plan of 
 operations is pretty well known. All tuat the 
 client has to do is to put the case in their hands 
 and pay a fee in advance. Most of the divorce 
 suits go to referees instead of being tried in 
 court. If the hearing is not actually secret, it is, 
 in most cases, the next thing to it. There are 
 
 no reporters and there is no audience. The di- 
 vorce laNvyer presents his case and brings on 
 his witnesses. Who are the witnesses ? Why, 
 in many instances, neither party to the suit ever 
 heard of them before. They are scamps whom 
 the divorce lawyer keeps m tow for just such 
 occasions. Their testimony is a lie from first 
 to last. The lawyer tells them beforehand what 
 they must swear to, and often coaches them to 
 see that they have the story straight. They 
 swear to personal knowledge of things which 
 never occurred, and to acquaintance with per- 
 sons they never saw. If the other side does not 
 appear, as often happens, because proper notice 
 has not been given, the sworn lies of the scamus 
 go unquestioned. The referee may possibly 
 have suspicions, but he must go by the " evi- 
 dence," and there it is. No one has appeared to 
 refute it. He reports to the court that the 
 charges are proven; the court assumes that it is 
 all right, and a decree of divorce is issued. So 
 the way is clear, and the person getting the de- 
 cree may go right oflf and marry again. Per- 
 haps tho other party to the new marriage is 
 waiting around tho corner. It is all a round- 
 the-corner business, and an exceedingly bad 
 business everv wav. And much more of it is 
 carried on in New York than the public supposes. 
 As the trials are not reported, unless thev con- 
 tain something sensational, the public knows 
 nothing about them. It would be a good thing 
 for morals if the divorce lawyers could be sup- 
 pressed. But they probably "can not. 
 
 FASHIONABLE WEDDINGS, AND WEAT 
 THEY COST. 
 
 " A New Yobk fashionable wedding is a very 
 expensive thing," said a prominent New York 
 caterer of Fifteenth Street to a journalier. 
 
 " Of course," said the reporter, "the bride's 
 clothes cost a great deal, and perhaps the groom 
 has to pay the minister a large sum, but do the 
 other expenses amount to much ? " 
 
 "Tho bride's outfit is something I don't know 
 anything about. If a wedding is coming oflf, the 
 bride's father or mother or uncle or somebody 
 comes to me and says: 'lam going to have a 
 wedding and I want you to furnish for it.' ' All 
 right,' I say, 'how many gnests?' ' Well, about 
 three hundred to the Mcephon.' Then I set to 
 work to calculate what kind of a table they want." 
 
 " How much per guest," interrupted the re- 
 porter, " does it take for a very nice wedding 
 collation? " 
 
 " Well, I can set a very pretty table for tl-.W 
 per head. That will include ices, bouillion, 
 cake, wine, jellies, bonbons, several kinds of 
 salads, sandwiches, flowers, china, waiters and 
 all." 
 
 " What else beside the above menu would peo- 
 ple want? " 
 
 "Ob! many things. Champagne, oysters, a 
 spiced fish which costs $20 -more, if hois a nice 
 fellow; cold meats, etc. These are all expensive 
 things, and- of course we have to charge for 
 them." 
 
 " Do yon include the wedding cake in the $1.50 
 estimate ? " 
 
 " Not generally. You see it costs us about 
 twenty cents for each box full. The box costs a 
 few cents, the white satin ribbon that ties it about 
 eight cent*, and the cake about ten cents. Each 
 box costs the person who orders it about thirty- 
 five cents, which just multiplied by 300 guests 
 comes'to $105. You can always tell a swell wed- 
 ding by the cake that's served" to you." 
 
 " How do you go about serving a wedding col- 
 lation ? " 
 
 " I send my head man to inspect the dining- 
 room and kitchen. Then the dishes and silver 
 are sent, the kitchen being given entirely into the 
 hands of my men. They set the table, mix the 
 salads, turn out tho ices, etc., and just before 
 the guests come I go over and see if everything 
 is going smoothly. Some caterers take every- 
 thing left over away with them. It is a bad thing 
 to do. The familylike the remains of the feast 
 so much, and it is" really of no use to the caterer, 
 except for the waiters.' , 
 
 As the reporter left the caterer's he encoun- 
 tered Johnson. Johnson is a young and rather 
 good-looking man. He takes charge of the car- 
 riages and the admittance of guests at every 
 fashionable affair. He is to be seen standing 
 under the awning of the mansion at which the 
 ball or wedding is occurring, and calls the num- 
 ber of the carriage, helps the ladies out, and 
 keeps rogfues away, and knows everybody. 
 
 " Why," said a young lady to a journalier, 
 " there is never the" least danger of any ono but 
 those we desire getting into a house as long as 
 
 Johnson is around. You can trust him entirely; 
 and everyone is sure to get their own carriage, 
 too. He is worth his $100 or $200 a night, and 
 beside he often has men to assist) him." 
 
 "Flowers," said the florist to the reporter, 
 " cost money. But there are several ways of 
 decorating a house. I can make pretty decora- 
 tions for $75 or $100, and I can make decorations 
 for $500. From $100 to $200 is the general lay- 
 out, however. That will include the church also. 
 I'ou see we place the palms, ferns and growing 
 plants about the chancel, but we take them aU 
 back again. But a wedding bell, a horn of 
 plenty and baskets of flowers cost the money." 
 
 " TV^hat are the other expenses of weddings 
 besides the flowers and supper ? " he was asked. 
 
 " There are the carriages at $2 to $5 apiece. 
 The bride's family order about four besides their 
 own; and there are the awnings at the house and 
 church, at $15 apiece, and about $25 to the sex- 
 ton and $10 for tlie use of the church, and then 
 there are the invitations — abigbillin themsclvi-s. 
 People send cards to hundreds they do not in- 
 vite. Take for instance Mrs. Yandcrbilt's li;ill. 
 She invited 1,200 people. For invitations, di- 
 recting and delivery, it cost her over $600. Now, 
 let us figure up. For the breakfast— $1.50 a head 
 for 300 people, $450; flowers, $200; wedding 
 cake, $105; awnings, $30; Johnson, $100; car- 
 riages, $10; clothes, $300; in all, $1,195. I think 
 I'll just get married and go vrithout the wed- 
 ding." 
 
 BLIND NEWSDEALERS. 
 
 " There are about thirtv of us in the city." 
 said a Third Avenue newsdealer, who is blind. 
 He meant blmd men who sell newspapers. 
 
 " Most of us own our own stands, and arc do- 
 in^ good business, too. I sell all kinds of peri- 
 odicals on my stand, from fashion monthlies to 
 railroad guides. Of course my principal trade 
 is in the daily papers. I sell upward of 200 
 i'uns, for instance, every day. 
 
 " No, tho public is not always ready to patron' 
 ize a man because bo is blind. At least, that is 
 my experience. I have had customers leave mo 
 because they said I did not wait on them fast 
 enough. But that, of course, was not true. I'm 
 as quick as any of 'em j'ct, even if my seeing is a 
 little out of gear. I have some very queer cus- 
 tomers. Some of those who deal with me con- 
 tinually never speak a word. They pick up their 
 papers, deposit tho money on the stand, and 
 walk away m silence. 
 
 " The other dav a gentleman complaimed that 
 I had not noticed him once during tlie year and 
 a half he had bought papers of me. He threat- 
 ened to quit. I had never heard him speak be- 
 fore, and did not know his voice. You ougjit t'> 
 have heard him apologize when I told him I was 
 blind. 
 
 " A good many of my customers are not aware 
 of my ulindnessand ask all sorts of ridiculous 
 questions about pictures in the illustrated pa- 
 pers. A man once asked me to direct him in a 
 choice between two comic papers. I did so. He 
 took the one I selected, and seemed well satis- 
 fied. In fact, ho complimented my taste, and 
 said he thought it agreed exactly with his owu. 
 Not long ago one of my customers who possesses 
 a ponderous voice — he is a politician— asked me 
 if I had read what appeared about him in ono 
 of the morning papers. I replied that I had not, 
 but that I would gladly listen if ho would have 
 the Irindness to read "it tome. He became in- 
 dignant. I learned afterward that the article 
 referred to was of a disparaging nature, an 1 I 
 had difficulty in convincing him of my defective 
 vision. But " 
 
 " Sun ?" said a voung man with "a light mus- 
 tache, as he helped himself to a paper and gave 
 the newsman a silver coin. 
 
 " You've made a mistake," said the young man, 
 on counting his change. 
 
 " I never make a mistake," answered the blind 
 man. 
 
 " How much IS the Sun ? " 
 
 " Two cents." 
 
 " But I gave yon a quarter, and you've re- 
 turned only twenty-one cents." 
 
 " You gave me a Canadian coin, which is worth 
 just twenty-three cents." 
 
 The young man bowed and said he had been 
 enlightened against his will. 
 
 " How did you know that was a Canadian 
 coin 'I " asked the reporter of the blind man. 
 
 " I felt it.'' 
 
 " Can you tell that way ? " 
 
 " Alwa'ye. Give me any coin you like, native 
 or foreign, and I'll tell its value. And as for 
 American notes and greenbacks, why, I can tell 
 "em around tho corner." — yeie York Sun. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 49 
 
 . EEPSESENTATIVE MEN OF NEW YOSE. 
 
 JAI OODU>. 
 
 In most of tho countries of Europe, and es- 
 
 Eecially in England, great wealth, when unin- 
 erited, is, an a general thing, realized through 
 the slow and patient channels of some trade or 
 calling. This, doubtless, is owing to the fact 
 that the natural resources of these countries are 
 mainly developed to their utmost capacity, and 
 th:it, so narrow are their boundaries, mdividu- 
 ally, as well as their ideas of governniont, the 
 spirit of enterprise can find no resting-place, for 
 the sole ol its foot among the impoverished 
 masses of their dense populations. 
 
 When, however, wo come to contrast this un- 
 desirable state of things vrith the condition of 
 affairs within tho boundaries of our own vast 
 3omiuouwealth, we are at once struck with tlie 
 magnitude of their dissimilarity, and with bosoms 
 elate with joy and pride, but with no mean feel- 
 lug of triumph, turn from the sunset of older na- 
 tions to tho glorious dawn of our own rising 
 greatness, which even now exceeds in luster 
 some of the boasted noontides of the past. 
 
 Here a newly created world, 
 so to speak, possessed of wealth 
 far exceeding that of " Ormus, 
 and of lud," and teeming with 
 all the resources necessary tt our 
 greatness and happiness, lies 
 spread out before us in bound- 
 less expanses, presenting to 
 every species of enterprise fields 
 for operation so filled with prom- 
 ise, and of such gigantic magni- 
 tude, that those of the Old World 
 ^re dwarfed into insignificance 
 before them. Cnder such cir- 
 cumstances it IS not a matter of 
 surprise that our vast resources 
 are becoming rapidly developed, 
 that cities and civilizations are 
 now being scattered through re- 
 gions not long since sacred to 
 the foot of the rod man, and that 
 constantly in our midst some 
 adventurous and far-seeing spir- 
 it leaps from out the masses, and 
 at a single bound, as it were, 
 attains to colossal wealth and 
 iiuportance. 
 
 There is no stronger case in 
 point touching this latter rela- 
 :ion than that presented by the 
 gentleman whose name appears 
 it the head of this article, and 
 who has for some time past com- 
 manded so large a share of pub- 
 lic attention with regard to the 
 boldness and magnitude of his 
 operations in some of the leading 
 Interests of our economy. Al- 
 though not free from tile sus- 
 picions which naturally attach 
 to men who, from comparative 
 penury, become, as if through 
 the wave of a magician's wand, 
 the possessors of millions, yet 
 there are those who have fiiith 
 in him as a sharp and successful 
 operator, who has given more 
 offence through bis superior 
 business tact and danng than 
 through any absolute dishonesty 
 on his part. 
 
 Jay Qould was born at Stratton's Falls, Dela- 
 ■war# County, New York, in the year 1836. His 
 father, John B. Gould, who died in 1866, and 
 who bad been married three times, -was a well- 
 to-do farmer, and small storekeeper. Jay was a 
 son by his first wife, who went the way of all 
 flesh in 1841, little dreaming that her boy of live 
 years was doomed to pass through a course of 
 two step-mothers. Young Gould, however, early 
 betrayed symptoms of genius and self-reliance, 
 for he had scarcely got well into his school-days 
 till he regarded himself already a man, and in- 
 vented a mouse-trap. This latter has been con- 
 sidered by some as either a bitter sarcasm upon 
 the unwieldly dimensions of the great, square, 
 unsightly, white frame house in which he was 
 born, or a graphic foreshadowing of his subse- 
 quent operations in Wall Street. Be this as it 
 may, he passed his childhood like most other 
 country lads of that period, with this difference, 
 that he was studious, reticent, and had the ad- 
 Tantage of a fair education. 
 
 When sixteen years of age, he made his first 
 moTe in life, and became a clerk to a " Squire 
 Burhan," at Roxbury, two miles from the Falls, 
 who kept a small store, remarkable for the va- 
 riety, original character, and infinitesimal quan- 
 
 tities of its stock. Hero his auditory nerve bo- 
 came so susceptible that his employer thought it 
 altogether too sensitive for so small an establish- 
 ment. Mr. Burhan had managed to obtain in- 
 telligence that a very desirable piece of land was 
 for public sale, cheap, in Albany, and determined 
 to purchase it. This he cautiously whispered to 
 some parties in the presence of his young em- 
 ployee. On proceeding to put his design into 
 execution, however, he found that, in the inter- 
 im, his clerk had become possessed of the prop- 
 erty, having availed himself of the astuteness of 
 his hearing. 
 
 The genius of Jay must have been of no ordi- 
 nary character, for' before he was twenty years 
 of age ho appeared suddenly a full-blown civil 
 engineer, and made a survey of Delaware 
 Couutv, a map of which was published in 1856, 
 bv Collins G. Keeney, of 17 and 19 Union Street. 
 Philadeliihia, with " tho words " From Actual 
 Survey by Jay Gould." As there is no royal 
 road to geometry, we fear that his biographers 
 have not done justice to the studiousnoss or at- 
 tainments of their subject, for no mention is 
 made of how ho became possessed of this un- 
 usual kiiDwleilijc. 
 
 JATT GOULD. 
 
 When Mr. Gould bid farewell to the home of 
 
 his youth, he went to Pennsylvania with Colonel 
 Zadock Pratt, and started a tannery in conjunc- 
 cion with that gentleman, at a place named 
 Gouldsboro. Evidently, from this name, young 
 Jay was the leading spirit of the enterprise — a 
 fact which was soon exemplified by the circum- 
 stance of his becoming sole proprietor of the es- 
 tablishment, leaving the colonel to tan the hides 
 of the enemy if he wished to resume business. 
 
 In 1859, Mr. Gouli began to speculate in Wall 
 Street, in railroad stock; and, it is said, as a 
 curb-stone broker. At that period his means 
 were limited, and his quarters in New York most 
 unpretentious. From the very first, however, he 
 had the reputation of being a most successful 
 man; and this was of itself an amount of capital 
 noteasily!estimatod. Hj neither smoked, drank, 
 nor gambled, and was always on the qui vive 
 for business. During the war he profited largely 
 by the sale of gold and of stocks and took ad- 
 vantage of every defeat or success of the Union 
 army. Long before the close of the struggle he 
 was said to be a millionaire. Of the truth of this 
 conjecture there seems ample evidence, for soon 
 after he went into the Erie Railroad that corpora- 
 tion owed him four milliona of dollars. 
 
 After making a great deal of money through 
 the skillful handling of Erie stock, his next suc- 
 cessful venture was in the purchase of 25,000 
 shares of Cleveland and Pittsburgh, when he im- 
 proved the road, doubled the market value of 
 the stock, and leased the property, netting about 
 a million and a half profit. In 1873 he went into 
 the Union Pacific, buving a vast number of shares 
 at 20, for which no has smce reahzed 95. Tho 
 same gigantic proportions and succeBscs havo 
 characterized all his later ventures also. His 
 purchase of an enormous amount of Wabash, at 
 less than 5, the consolidation of the road, the 
 rise in the stock, and the buying of an incredible 
 amount of Kansas and Texas, at a figure which 
 has doubled up into a profit sixfold greater than 
 tho price ho paid, has netted him many addi- 
 tional millions. All through 1876, and up to the 
 close of 1878, he had been purchasing large lines 
 of the low price stocks which, as if by magic, 
 began to rise iu value the moment he touched 
 them; so that now his wealth must be very great 
 some say upward of sixty millions. 
 Mr. Gould's share in what is termed the " Gold 
 Conspiracy," or tho famous " Black Friday," 
 and his adroit antagonism with the late Commo- 
 dore Vanderbilt, when the latter 
 was endeavoring to cripple the 
 Erie, are too well known to need 
 more than a pasHing notice here. 
 It is to his present status and 
 his power to affect the public in- 
 terests in this country that we 
 would briefly direct attention. 
 As the case stands, from the 
 enormous amount of telegraph 
 and railroad stock he controls, 
 he can, at any moment, all but 
 ruin competing hues by forcing 
 low rates, or can tax the public 
 beyond endurance, by insisting 
 on high ones. This is a position 
 fraught with great danger to the 
 best interests ol our people; al- 
 though so far no very alarming 
 symptoms have manifested 
 themselves. Mr. Gould is the 
 moving spirit of a great monop- 
 oly; but if King Cotton and the 
 great Grain-Giant of the West 
 put their heads together, his 
 scepter, if wielded oppressively, 
 can readily be wrested from his 
 grasp. Tnese two prime factors 
 in our national prosperity can 
 never be embarrassed to any 
 fatal extent by combinations, 
 whose existence may be said to 
 depend on them. If the owners 
 of the soil are true to themselves, 
 they are invincible. 
 
 The intiuence of this success- 
 ful operator and financier ia so 
 great, and his management of 
 the press so adroit and far- 
 seeing, that any object he sets 
 before him he is sure to attain. 
 He is one of the few men who 
 never make a false move, and 
 who, consequently, never lose. 
 He is always on the wmg, and 
 if in his travels he happens to 
 come across a railroad, or any 
 competing interest he wishes to 
 possess himself of, he at once 
 sets about obtaining it, either 
 through money or diplomacy. 
 If the owners refuse to sell or come to any terms 
 he thinks proper to propose, he quietly intimates 
 that he will build a line right alongside of theirs, 
 as he finds that one through that precise region is 
 necessary to tho success of some other of his 
 projects. This seldom fails to accompUsh.the 
 desired end; and hence the aid of his open hand 
 or the pressure of his hiel is felt throughout 
 most, if not all, the lines of intercommunication 
 on this continent. Ho is now opening up Mex- 
 ico in rivalry with the people of Atchinson, To- 
 peka, and Santa Fe. When both lines are com- 
 pleted, some compromise or union must be ef- 
 fected between them, else one at least is sure to 
 go under, and it is not difficult to predict which. 
 He contemplates, it is said, tho construction of a 
 rival and parallel road to Lake Shore, from 
 Toledo to Buffalo. Should he accomplish this, 
 and connect the line with his Lackawanna ex- 
 tension, he will then have, practically, a trunk 
 line from the Mississippi, inasmuch as it will 
 connect at Toledo with Wabash. Once in pos- 
 session of this trnni< hne, he can, through freight 
 and passenger ra.e wars, menace the Kew York 
 Central svstem, and that of the Erie, as well aa 
 the Pennsylvania. Ohio and Baltimore systems. 
 He controls the Pacific Mail Company'B line to 
 
50 
 
 THE GRKAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 San Francisco, and the Union Pacific route to the 
 same place. In fact, his position and influence 
 seem so thoroughly eataoliahed in everything 
 pertaining to railroad and telegraph undertak- 
 ings, that ordinary opposition to his schemes and 
 projects in either relation, would appear to be of 
 little avail. As a litigant he has few equals; 
 while, it is said, his influence in the courts is 
 fjreater than should be possessed by any gentle- 
 man not absolutely on tlie bench. In anv aspect 
 he is a most extraordinary man; even Lis per- 
 simal appearance conspiring to distinguish liin: 
 from the ordinary run of mortals; although here 
 nature has not been over bounteous to him, if we 
 are to judge by the critical standards of some of 
 the galleries of Europe. 
 
 Mr. Gould is a married gentleman, and resides 
 with his wife and family — the oldest of whom is 
 a lad of about 15 years— at his magnificent resi- 
 dence, Irvington on the Hudson. Whatever ob- 
 jectionable traits may be set down to his charac- 
 ter, he 18, most assuredly, possessed of some 
 marked excellence. He is" an aflfectionate father 
 and husband, and, when the cares of the dav are 
 laid by, jirefers the bosom of his family and the 
 society of his books to any other enjoyment on 
 earth. His son, it is said, is a youtli ol g^eat 
 promise, and likely to evince in "due time some 
 of his leading characteristics. As we 
 cannot but suppose that Mr. Gould 
 is a man of self-communings and 
 deep retrospection, we feel assured 
 that at times, when seated in his pa- 
 latial abode, surrounded by the fairy 
 realm of Irvmgton, that teems with 
 every beauty and luxury known to 
 refinement and wealth, he contrasts 
 his brilliant and happy present with 
 his mouse-trap days, and remembers, 
 with a smile, the dismay and agita- 
 tion he felt when his liiouse-trap — 
 liis first, and doubtless only invention 
 — was stolen from hini when, a poor 
 and unknown lad, he visited New 
 Vork in the hope of turning it into 
 rash. Certainly ne call scarcely have 
 forgotten how bravely he ran down 
 and captured the thief, who turned 
 out to be a notorious burglar, and 
 who, on perceiving what the carefully 
 tied-up little bundle, for which he 
 was arrested, contained, exclaimed, 
 with supreme contempt, when th<- 
 p&rcel was opened by the police: 
 " What! Only a mouse-trap ? Well, 
 I be ! " 
 
 CHARLES A. DANA. 
 
 The history of low-priced journal- 
 ism in America begins only from the 
 third of September, 1833." On that 
 dav first rose the Now York 6'«n "to 
 shine lor all." It was a very small 
 shine— only the size of a window- 
 pane, dyspeptic in appearance, and 
 withoutmany persons to judge of the 
 brilliancy of its appearance. It did 
 not reaemble the sun of Anstorlitz. 
 It was of nearly the size that the 
 Evening Post, now the most venerable 
 of our dailies, and the one with broad- 
 est phvlacteries, was at birth, and it 
 SroDatly contained as much news, 
 [orace Groolry was then a journey- 
 man printer, James Gordon Bennett 
 was the laboring man on the old 
 Courier and Enquirer, and Henry J. Raymond | 
 was going to school. Slow and siire the dailies 
 of that time were, lull of ponderous disquisitions 
 on the bank and the tariff, and sleepy in the ex- 
 treme. There were no correspondehta abroad, 
 and not comnioiilv one in Washington; tele- 
 graphs did not flasli intelligence from one place 
 to another in loss than a second, and railroad 
 and steamboat expresses were unknown. The 
 mails from Europe were condensed for the col- 
 umns of the New York newspapers of that day, 
 and from Albany intelligence was given a week 
 after the events had happened. New York was 
 then a little smaller than Baltimore is now, and 
 somewhat larger than Pittsburgh and its sub- 
 urbs; but no such gazette was issued from Man- 
 hattan Island as to-day graces the press of 
 America in the pages of the Commerciaiof Pitts- 
 burgh. Recriminations and invectivee were 
 alarmingly prevalent, and the picture drawn by 
 Charles Dickens in Martin Chuzzlewit was none 
 too exaggerated for the day. Happily, euch 
 times are now past. 
 
 It was amid such scenes that the New York 
 Sun was ushered into existence. It was not a 
 model sheet; no paper could be that whose means 
 did not allow more than an editor and ftiree or 
 
 four compositors, and its tone, we are sorry to 
 say, was no better than that of the rest. Its 
 first publisher was Benjamin H. Day, but the 
 originator of the idea was named Sheppard. 
 The man, however, to whom the paper owed 
 most of its success until a few years back was 
 Moses Y. Beach. Pony expresses were of his 
 founding, and carrier pigeons were his messen- 
 gers. Opposed to him were soon found a multi- 
 tude of cheap-priced dailies, out of which only 
 two have survived. The Herald was founded 
 three years after, and the Tribune eight, but 
 after a brief time they raised their price to two 
 cents a copy, at which they remained till during 
 the war. The weekly Sun was regarded as an 
 excellent hebdomadal for many years, but the 
 influence of the paper on the public mind ceased 
 about the time of the Mexican war, although its 
 advertising patronage was excellent and its cir- 
 culation was large. After this, until the change 
 in its proprietorship, no one thought of attach- 
 ing any importance to its remarks on public 
 event8,"or ot disputing anythmg it said. It was 
 not worth while. 
 
 In 1867, some capitalists and newspaper men 
 were looking around New Y'ork city for a news- 
 paper to buy. It was essential that it should 
 contain the iiews published by the Associated 
 
 CU^ni.ES A. DAXA. 
 
 Press. .Vs this body would admit uo more part- 
 ners, the choice was between the Express end 
 the Sun. Of these the latter was by far the most 
 valuable, liad the greatest clientage, and was a 
 morning paper. So it was purchased at a very 
 high figure, and the company, of which Mr. 
 Charles A. Dana was the chief man, set to work 
 to reorganize the paper. 
 
 This was no easy task. The Sun needed a 
 new building and new editors; it needed a 
 change in everything. The old Tammany Hall 
 building, where so many meetings had been held 
 for Jackson, Van Bureii, Polk, Cass, Pierce, Bu- 
 chanan, Douglas, and McClellan, was purchased 
 in anticipation of the change, and carpenters, 
 masons, and bricklayers quickly changed it to 
 an irai)osiug edifice crowned with "a Mansard roof. 
 The Sun was ready for its new quarters, and in 
 them it moved on t^e first of January, 1868, with 
 a new force of editors and printers "throughout. 
 Mr. Dana controlled the editorial columns, as- 
 sisted by Isaac W.England, as managing editor. 
 
 Charles Anderson Dana is a member of that 
 New England familv of which the poet and the 
 author of "Two Years before the Mast" are 
 also a part — a family which has had probably as 
 many Harvard graduates trom within itself as 
 
 any other in the East. Mr. Dana was also at 
 Harvard, but did not graduate, as the condition 
 of his eyes prevented. He stood high in his 
 class, however, and his attainments alter being 
 two years in college were probably more than 
 those of most of the graduating students. After 
 leaving he joined the Brook Farm community, a 
 dream of Arcadia. Brook Farm yet Uves as the 
 synonyme of unselfishness and as the embodi- 
 ment of an attempt to form a society founded not 
 on accidents of wealth and birth, but on the inher- 
 ent goodness and truth of humanity. The 
 sketches given bv Emerson, by Hawthorne, and 
 by Curtis, have all the interest'of an event of the 
 present week, with a poetry such as attaches to 
 Sir Thomas Morc's Utopia or" Marco Polo's travels 
 in the East. They seem to be of us, yet divided 
 by the absence of egotism and of self interest from 
 all that perplexes and moves the actual world. 
 Of thisplialanx, Mr. Dana was one of the young- 
 est, and after its breaking up he became one of the 
 soonest restored to the daily toil of life. Elizur 
 Wright, now the great insurance actuary of Amer- 
 ica, was then publisher of a paper in Boston called 
 the Chronotype, and employed the late horticul- 
 turist as an assistant at five dollars a M'eeU. In 
 February, 1857, he came to New York, and en- 
 gaged as city editor on the Tribune, attt-n dollars, 
 succeeding Mr. George G. Foster, one 
 of the best local sketch writers ever in 
 America, and the year after went to 
 Europe as correspondent. This was 
 at the time of the third French Revo- 
 lution, and also at a time of general 
 upheaving throughout the whole ooii- 
 tiueut of Europe. It required for tins 
 post a raau of good acquaintance with 
 the politics ot Europe, and with the 
 principal languages spoken there. 
 This Mr. Dana possessed; French, 
 German, Italian, and Spanish flow 
 from his tongue as fluently as £ng 
 lish, and he possesses a "wide ac- 
 (luaintauco wiUi the literature which 
 they preserve. 
 
 Ou his return from Europe, Dana 
 was made Mr. Greeley's principal as- 
 sistant, at a salary of twenty dollars 
 a week, which was" afterwards gradu- 
 ally increased until it reached tweu- 
 ty-"five hundred a year. It is notice- 
 able that this salary, which is now 
 equaled by that recived by some one 
 ou more "than a hundred American 
 newspapers, was then the highest 
 paid by the press. Men of twenty 
 years' experience, apt writers and 
 cogent reasouers were tlien only paid 
 from twenty to thirty dollars a week, 
 and it was impossible to go higher. 
 During Mr. Dana's labors on the lYi- 
 bune he found time to compile a vol- 
 ume of poetry from the worKs of emi- 
 nent authorsj and in 1858 he and Mr. 
 George Ripley commenced the Ameri- 
 can Cyclopedia. This voluminous 
 work needed immense labor, and oc- 
 cupied a great portion ol the time of 
 the editors for several years, and was 
 not concluded until after the with- 
 drawal of Mr. Dana from the Tribune, 
 which happened in April, 1862. k 
 was occasioned bv difference of po- 
 litical views, and Lis withdrawal was 
 a subject of regret to nearly all the 
 readers of the Ti-ibune, whfch owed 
 much of its force to his pungent pen. 
 After leaving the Tribune he was appointed to 
 several positions in the War Department, ami 
 finally he became Assistant Secretary of War, 
 and rendered very material service to the Gov- 
 ernment by his excellent executive abilities. Hu 
 had the confidence of his chief, and no imputa- 
 tion was ever uttered on his integrity. At the 
 close of the war he went to Chicago, where he was 
 editor of the liepublican, a dailv of which iniicli 
 was hoped. After a year he sold out his inleroBl 
 and returned to New York, where, by his per- 
 sonal exertions, the company was formed which 
 now conducts the Sun. 
 
 It was foreseen by the managers of this naper 
 that it would be impossible to retain all the 
 readers if any change was made in its course, 
 yet they boldly made the experiment, advertising 
 both at home and abroad. At the time they took 
 It the Sun had a circulation of about forty-eight 
 thousand copies daily; this diminished until it 
 went down nearly to thirty-five thousand, when 
 the onward wave led it up to forty, fifty, sixty, 
 seventy, and over one hundred thousand per 
 dav. 
 
 Such success has rarely been attained by 
 newspapers. A thousand make the experiment 
 where one attains such a result The indonii- 
 
TME GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 51 
 
 table eutsrgy of the proprielorB led thom to con- 
 tiime thoir efiforta, even wheu tlioy Beeniud to bo 
 'uuproductive; tboy have uot beeu relaxed since. 
 When the chaugo took placo iu the owiiorBbip it 
 was largely advertasod, and everybody Uuow of 
 It. The Sun was ])riuted on new type and good 
 paper, every one could read itj and it Lad " all 
 the new8.'' Another secret of its success was 
 that its reporters were picked men, not chosen 
 on account ot their relationship to the proprie- 
 tors, but for their intrinsic merit. Mr. Dana's 
 wide acquaintance with newspaper men gave 
 him excellent opportunities for making a choice 
 of assistants, and he has improved it. No men 
 work harder or give more productive return fur 
 their labor tlian the two principal assistants on 
 the Sun, and the paper shows the result. Its 
 paragraphs are read, its correspondence is full 
 of matter, and it always is up to, if not ahead of, 
 other journals in local news. 
 
 The business manage- 
 ment of the Sun is under 
 the charge of Isaac W. 
 England, once city editor 
 of tuo New York Tribune, 
 and once managing etli- 
 tor of the Sun. Under 
 his supervision as editor 
 the Sill achieved great 
 ri»»iil(s, and, financially, 
 matters have equally suc- 
 ceeded since. Mr. Eng- 
 land is tall, and at pres- 
 ent a little inclined to 
 stoutness, of fair com- 
 plexion and light hair. 
 In business be is pron)pt 
 and active, keeping a 
 sharp oversight on all 
 the business of the paper, 
 and pleasant and courte- 
 ous in manner. 
 
 fHE LATE FBAMK LESLIE. 
 
 This well-known pub- 
 lisher of numerous peri- 
 odicals, illustrated ones 
 especially, died at his 
 residence in New York 
 City on January 10, 1880, 
 he being then fifty-nine 
 years old. He bad been 
 tor some time sick of a 
 cancer, but its deadly 
 character was so little 
 apprehended that, as late 
 as one hour before he ex- 
 pired, the members of his 
 lamily believed he was 
 growing better. His real 
 name was Henry Carter, 
 born at Ipswich, Eng- 
 land, iu 1821, the son of 
 Joseph Carter, a glove 
 manufacturer of that 
 place. Frank Leslie was 
 assumed, a nom deplume, 
 under which many a wri- 
 ter gives his literary pro- 
 ductions to the world. 
 He passed his boyhood 
 in his father's factory to 
 learn the glove-making 
 business; and, that he 
 might perfect himself in 
 it, he was sent to London 
 at seventeen years of age, 
 recommended to his un- 
 cle, who had an exten- 
 sive dry-goods establish- 
 ment in the capital, and 
 who employed bim as 
 
 clerk in tlie glove department. Both at Ipsvrich, 
 however, and more in London, he indulged his 
 naturally predominant passion for drawing, 
 sketching, and engraving, particularly on wood, 
 devotmg to knowledge and proficiency in art all 
 of his free hours, and much also of the time 
 which he should have given to duty as a trader's 
 apprentice. His father and uncle reproved him 
 for his wandenng after art, and it was cluefly to 
 escape detection and reproach that he sought to 
 hide himself under the name of Frank Leslie. 
 In his twentieth year he chose, and actually be- 
 gan to practice, art as his only pursuit m life. 
 At that ago he also married, and three sons 
 have been born to him. In his career as an 
 artist he started from the establishment of the 
 IVustrated London_ News, whose engraving de- 
 partment he took in charge. In 1848 he emi- 
 grated from his native country and settled him- 
 self in New York City, and shortly after arrival 
 bad his family name formally changed into 
 
 Frank Leslio by a special act of tho Legirtlature. 
 His tirHt business connection in America was 
 witli (r'ea.'^oii's Piclonai. ijomo time later, wheu 
 Phiueas T. Uarnuiii, with the Messrs. 13each, 
 started their illustrated paper, negotiations were 
 made with Mr. Leslie to superintend tho en- 
 gravings. In 1854 Mr. Leslie embarked in tho 
 Eublishiiig business on his own account. He 
 egan with tho Gazette of Fashions, which was 
 soon after followed by the Kew Y(/rk Journal. 
 He purchased the Journal cheaply. Under Mr. 
 Leslie's skillful management it very speedily 
 became profitable. On December 14, 1855, he 
 issued the first number o[ Frank Leslie's Illus- 
 trated, Newspaper, tho most noteworthy of his 
 periodicals. Tho events regarded most stirring 
 and important by the people of this country are 
 loiind chronicled ana illui5tr;itod m this paper 
 as they successively occurred during the time 
 intervening between that date and Mr. LesUe's 
 
 THE LATE FRANK LESLIE. 
 
 death — a quarter of a century. In 1865 Mr. Les- 
 lie started the Chimney Corner. To these he 
 then added in rapid succession the Boys' and 
 Qirls' Weekly, Pleasant Hours, the Lady's Jour- 
 nal, edited by Mrs. Leslie, his second wife, the 
 Popular Monthly, the Sunday Magazine, the 
 Budget of Wit, and Chatterbor., and Die Ulus- 
 trirle Zeitung, in German. Such novels as from 
 time to time appeared in the columns of his 
 periodicals ho published in book form at their 
 conclusion. 
 
 From these various publications, which proved 
 generally profitable, Mr. Leslie gathered a great 
 (leal of money. From the Chimney Corner alone 
 he is said to Lave cleared fiftv thousand dollars 
 in one year. The civil war between North and 
 South was to him an abundant harvest, the cir- 
 culation of his papers, chiefly the illustrated 
 ones, having, during that time, exceedingly in- 
 creased. A largo portion of the money thus 
 amassed he converted into house and other im- 
 
 movable property. Occasionally ho sustained 
 considerablo Iosbch, and more than once his 
 financial conditiou was not a little embarrassed. 
 He may, indeed, be said to have died m that 
 condition. In 1857, three years alt«r he had 
 commenced as a publisher, the state of Inn af- 
 fairs was such that he should have stopped btisi- 
 ness but that his creditors granted him an ex- 
 tension of time for payment. 
 
 More seriously emoarrasscd were bis aflairs 
 in 1877, when he was forced to surrender his 
 property into tho hands of a receiver. By au 
 agreement which tho parties concerned entered 
 into at tho time, the creditors retained Jlr. Lieslie 
 as general manager ot hia pnbliMhing business, 
 allowing him twenty per cent of tin- profits for 
 his use. Mr. Leslie's liabilities were, iu a short 
 time, cleared away. Iu April, 1879, ho also judi- 
 cially recovered a" large piuportioii of his busi- 
 neae. The pablic'e appreciation of Frank Leslie 
 m hia chosen field of ac- 
 tion was apparently such, 
 besides the general wide- 
 epread reputation of hia 
 name, as must have grat- 
 ified his sensibilities. In 
 1848, the year of his first 
 arrival iu this country, 
 the American Institute ot 
 New York awarded lO 
 him the medal for wood 
 engraving. In 1867 the 
 State of New York ap- 
 pointed him her Commis- 
 sioner for the Fine Arts 
 Department to the Uni- 
 versal Exhibition held 
 that year in the Flinch 
 capital; and at the close 
 of it the Emperor Napo- 
 leon III personally pre- 
 sented him with the prize 
 fold medal. Again, m 
 876, the State of New 
 York selected him as her 
 Commissioner to the Cen- 
 tennial Exhibition at 
 Philadelphia, and his 
 brother commissioners 
 from other States elected 
 him president. 
 
 His standing in life's 
 social relations with his 
 fellow-citizens may ap- 
 
 Eear from the fact that 
 had his family resi- 
 dence on Filth Avenue, 
 and was a member of the 
 Manhattan Jockey Club. 
 He was also a Freema- 
 son, and belonged to the 
 so-called aristocratic Hol- 
 land Lodge. He had his 
 rural residence, situated 
 about midway between 
 Saratoga and Lonely 
 Lake, surrounded by au 
 estate of six hundred 
 acres of land, called from 
 its location " Interlaken." 
 He was beloved by his 
 employees, who number- 
 ed for some time three 
 hundred, the amount of 
 moneypaid them for their 
 work exceeding six thou- 
 sand dollars weekly. To 
 some among them, con- 
 fined to a bed of sickness, 
 he continued the salaries. 
 One, being in a delicate 
 state of health, he sent 
 to Europe, taking upon 
 himself the charge of all traveling expenses, be- 
 sides continuing to pay the traveler in full. He 
 provided for the widx)w and children of another, 
 and, generally, whenever any of his employees 
 happened to die, leaving their famihes destitute, 
 Frank Leslie made it his especial care to supply 
 their wants. 
 
 REV. THOUAS DE WITT TAT.WAQE. 
 
 Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, D. D., was born in 
 Bound Brook, Somerset Co., New Jersey, Janu- 
 ary 7, 1832. He entered New York University 
 in 1849, graduating in 1853, and graduated from 
 New Brunswick 'Theological Seminary in 1856, 
 and the same year was called to the Reformed 
 Church, Belleville, New Jersey. In 1859 he be- 
 came pastor of the Reformed Church in Syra- 
 cuse, New York. In 1862 he was called to the 
 Second Reformed Church of Philadelphia. la 
 1869 he accepted the call to the Central Pre«by 
 
52 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 terian Church of Brooklyn. In 1870 a new 
 church was built of wood and iron, semicircular 
 in form, holding over 3,000 people. This was 
 known as the " The Brooklyn Tabernacle." In 
 1871 this building was enlarged, but was de- 
 stroyed by lire December 22, 1872. On Febru- 
 ary 22, 1874, a massive structure of brick and 
 stone was dedicated, and au appeal being made, 
 $40,000 was raised by the audience, which cau- 
 celled its debt. The new tabernacle is gothic in 
 style, retains the semicircular torm, and has sit- 
 tings for 4,600. It is the largest Protestant 
 church building in America. In 1872, Mr. Tal- 
 mage organized in the old church building a 
 Tabernacle Lay College for training young men 
 who desire to enter the ministry, but cannot 
 afford the time and expense of a regular collegi- 
 ate course. The college is open to all of evan- 
 gelical belief. Instruction is given by a corps of 
 professors in general literature, sacred history, 
 natural and systematic theology, sacred rhe- 
 toric, and the evidences oi Chistianity. He was 
 at oue time editor of an undenominational re- 
 ligious journal called The Christian ai Work. 
 He has also published five volumes of sermons, 
 besides " The Almond Tree," " Crumbs Swept 
 Up," " Abominations of Modern Society," 
 " Around the Tea-Table," " Old Wells Dug Out," 
 " Sports That Kill," and " Every Day Religion." 
 
 As illustrative of Mr. Tal- 
 tnage's style of oratory, we ap- 
 pend a condensed report of one 
 ofhis sermons. Theeubjectis 
 " The Lord is my Shepherd: " 
 
 "The exact meaning of the 
 text depends somewhat upon 
 the place yon put the stress. 
 'The Lord is my Shepherd.' 
 That means protection. ' The 
 Lord is my Shepherd.' That 
 means almighty protection. 
 *The Lord is my Shepherd.' 
 That means personal protec- 
 tion. I propose this morn- 
 ing to speak to yon of the 
 shepherd's plaid, the shep- 
 herd's crook, the shepheriTs 
 dogs, the shepherd's pasture 
 
 f rounds, and the shepherd's 
 ock. It would be an ab- 
 surd thing for a man to go 
 forth for rough work in very 
 exquisite apparel. The pot- 
 ter does not toil at the wheel 
 in felvet, nor does the wait- 
 ing-maid come to her duty 
 in satin, nor does the shep- 
 herd clothe himself in soft 
 and exquisite apparel when 
 he goes forth among the 
 rocks or among the wilder- 
 nesses, to look after the lost 
 sheep. Christ, our Heaven- 
 ly Snepherd, put aside the 
 girdles of light and the robes 
 of power and the sandals of 
 beauty, and wrapped Him- 
 self in the torn and tattered 
 and bespoiled garments of 
 our luimanity — coming forth 
 on the mountains to look after 
 the lost sheep, wrapped in the 
 shepherd's plaid. I Know that 
 nearly all the old painters re- 
 
 g resent a halo around the 
 abe Christ, and whether you 
 see the babe Clirist's picture in the galleries at 
 Edinburgh, or at Venice, or in the Louvre and 
 Luxembourg, you always find a halo of light 
 around the head of that babe; but I do not sup- 
 pose there was any more halo around that child's 
 head than there was around the head of anv child 
 born that night, that Christmas Eve in the fand of 
 Judca. We often hear of the robe that Christ 
 wore in after time, of the seamless robe, and 
 people speak of it as something very costly and 
 very beautiful, because it was a seamless robe. 
 Why, my friends, there was no beauty about it 
 at all. The scissors and the needle had done 
 nothing to make it graceful. It was just a rough 
 sack with three holes in it, one for the neck and 
 two for the arms. You tell me that the soldiers 
 gambled for that seamless robe at Christ's cruci- 
 fixion. That is no proof that it was a valuable 
 garment. I have seen two beggars quarrel over 
 the refuse of an anh barrel. It was not a costly 
 garment, it was not a remarkable garment. It 
 was an old garment, a homely garment, perhaps 
 a repulsive garment that Christ wore. I come, 
 in the next place, to speak of the shepherd's 
 crook. That is a rod with a curve at the end 
 which has to be dropped on the neck of a sheep 
 when it goes astray, and with that crook it is 
 pulled back. When not employed in that way 
 
 the shepherd would often use it as a crutch to 
 lean upon. I have a shepherd's crook at my 
 house full of suggestiveness to me. When I 
 jiarted in 1879 from the Earl of Kintore, in Lon- 
 don, he said to me: ' Mr. Talmage, when you get 
 to America, send me a stick ' — by which the Eng- 
 hshman or Scotchman means a cans — ' and then 
 I will send you a stick.' I started the cane from 
 New York for Aberdeen, Scotland, but before it 
 got there the good Scotch earl had entered upon 
 higher honors than Great Britain could ever give 
 him — even the honors that are before the throne 
 of God. After a while came, in careful package, 
 a shepherd's crook — the first one I ever saw, 
 meaning more to me as it stands in my house 
 than any other shepherd's crook possibly could 
 mean. It was sent to me, I suppose, as sug- 
 gestive of my work as au under shepherd, the 
 office that every minister of Jesua Christ holds. 
 Well, now, the shepherd's crook was an absolute 
 necessity in olden times — bringing back the lost 
 sheep, finding one wandering out in this direc- 
 tion, pulling him back— finding a sheep wander- 
 ing out in another direction, pulling him back. 
 AU we, like sheep, have gone astray, and if the 
 Lord had not dropped His crook upon us and 
 pulled us back long ago, we would nave fallen 
 over the precipices. There is a man who is 
 making too much money. He has got proud, he 
 
 has got vain, hifl heart is puffed up, he says: ' I 
 am independent of everything. My soul, eat, 
 drink, and be merry; you are provided for.' 
 Disaster comes, commercial misfortune. His es- 
 tates fly. lie gets down on his knees and says: 'O 
 Lord, art Thou against me, that all my estate is 
 swept away?' Oh, no, my brother, the Lord 
 has not any grudge against you; He has only 
 dropped on you the shepherd's crook, not in 
 wrath but in mercy, pulling you back out ot your 
 worldliness. There is a man who has no pa- 
 tience with invalids. He calls them a wheezing, 
 coughing crew, and it makes him nervous to 
 hear them about the house, or in a railroad 
 train, or at a summer watering-place. After a 
 while his health will go, and the man will wake 
 up and he will say: ' Oh, Lord, art thou against 
 me?' Oh, nol the Lord is not against you; He 
 has just put the shepherd's crook on you to pull 
 you back out of your worldliness, and to pull 
 you back into gracious sympathies. You find 
 apples and plums in the shade of the tree, and 
 richest Christian fruits are to be found in the 
 deep shadow of trouble. During the last war 
 the question was often asked: ' Will the colored 
 soldiers fight well if they are put in the army ? ' 
 The question was asked at the North and at the 
 South, and the colored troope were tried on both 
 
 sides, and they were heroic. And I toll yt;a, my 
 friends, it is not the white regiment of ;cy, it la 
 not the white regiment of gladness that wins the 
 greatest victory for your soul, but the black 
 regiment of trial, the black regiment of tempta- 
 tion and want and woe that is going to get for 
 you the greatest victory. I take all the glad- 
 nesses of your life and put them in one regiment 
 of ten companies, under Colonel Joy, and then 
 I gather all the sorrows of your life, and I put 
 them m one regiment of ten companies under 
 Colonel Breakheart. Which gets the greater 
 triumph ? The regiment under Colonel Break- 
 heart. I come, in the next place, to speak of the 
 shepherd's dogs. They go after those sheep 
 which are astray and bring them back in the 
 fold. Every shepherd has dogs — every shep- 
 herd from the nomads of Bible time down to 
 the Scotch herdsman watching his flocks on the 
 Grampion Hills. And our Heavenly Shepherd 
 has his dogs. They are tlie persecutions and 
 trials ol this life which hound us back to the 
 fold, for you know there are those who spend 
 their whole hfe in barking at Chnstians. Let a 
 Christian go astray, or let him show any imper- 
 fection of character, how many of these dogs 
 there are that will hound him, to bark at him, 
 and to bite at him; and they howl and they bark, 
 and the Lord just allows them to drive the sheep 
 back to the fold. Your perse- 
 cutions and your trials are not 
 to make you mad; they are to 
 save you. They are the Lord's 
 dogs gone out to drive you in. 
 Almost everybody has the 
 bounds after him sometimes. 
 Sometimes it is an ecclesiasti- 
 cal dog, sometimes it is a po- 
 litical dog, sometimes it is a 
 social dog. I come next to 
 speakof the shepherd's pasture 
 ground. The shepherd drives 
 Lis sheep to the mountains in 
 summer, down into the valleys 
 in winter. So the Lord leacls 
 His flocks — in the summer to 
 the mountains, in the winter 
 to the valleys. By which 1 
 mean that in warm days ot 
 prosperity He leads us up on 
 sun-gilt Sabbath tops and on 
 hills of transfiguration, and we 
 are so high up we can almost 
 see the gates of the great city. 
 Then there come wintry blasts 
 and storms ot trouble, and He 
 drives us down into the valley, 
 and we say: ' Is any one's sor- 
 row like unto mv sorrow?' 
 But blessed be God, His sheep 
 can find pasture anywhere. 
 But I remark once more, iu 
 regard to the sliepherd's fold: 
 At sheep shearing time there 
 waH great rejoicing in olden 
 times and in lauds where they 
 had shepherds. There was a 
 wall enclosing the sheep so that 
 the shepherd could go out and 
 count the sheep easily, and «ce 
 if any had been carried oft' by 
 the jackals, or any had L<-en 
 wounded. That was called 
 the lost sheep. And tlio Lord 
 has His sheepfold. I speak 
 now of the place He has pro- 
 vided for His loved ones in the better country. 
 How the old sheep will be glad when they see the 
 lost lambs. MiUiona of children in heaven! " 
 
 BEV. HEXBr WABD BEECHEB. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher, the celebrated author 
 and divine, son of Dr. Lyman Beecher, was born 
 at Litchfield, Conn., June 24, 1813. At an early 
 age he had a strong predilection for a seafaring 
 hfe, which, however, he renounced in conse- 
 quence of the deep religious impressions whicli 
 he experienced during a revival. Having gradu- 
 ated at Amherst College in 1834, he devoted him- 
 self to the study of theology at Lane Seminary 
 under the tuition of his lather, who was then 
 president of that institution. He became, in 
 1847, pastor of the Plymouth (Congregational) 
 Church in Brooklyn, where his genial and 
 original eloquence "has continued to attract the 
 largest congregation, it is said, in the United 
 States. He was editor of the Independent from 
 1861 to 1863, when he visited Europe for the 
 benefit of his health. His earnest aadresses to 
 large audiences on the subject of the American 
 war appear to have ha<' considerable influence 
 in turning the current of public opinion in Great 
 Britain in favor of the Dnion "ause. 
 
 The epeeohea Mr, Beechei made in England 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 53 
 
 ■wei'e really parts of ono Bpeoch. They presented 
 the different views of the great question of our 
 war. But they were ho colloquuil, 8o racy, so 
 trenchant, so eloquent, so alert, so iinpertiirba- 
 hlo, that they will stand among the most effective 
 speeches ou record. Wo were wonderfully for- 
 tunate in our udvocato. CircuniBtances and hm 
 own genius had made him a roco^uized mediator 
 between England and this country. It is not 
 often the lot of a private citizen to bo the inttucn- 
 tial mediator between nations. And yet Ihern 
 can be no doubt that our friends in Kngland 
 hoard in Mr. Beecher's speeches the voice of 
 this country plainly saying what they had but 
 imperfectly understood and vaguely felt. Mr. 
 lieecher has also been a prominent advocate of 
 iiuti-slavery and temperance reform, and more 
 recently of the rights of women. Among his 
 principal works are " Lectures to Young Men " 
 (1850), "Star Paijers" (1855), "Lite Thoughts" 
 (1858), "Royal Truths" (18(J4), a novel, "Nor- 
 wood " (1864), and " Life of Christ," Vol I, 1871. 
 He became editor of the Chri.itiuti Union in 1870. 
 
 RUFUS H.\Trn. 
 No man in New York is better known and bet- 
 ter liked than Rufus Hatch. He 
 is a particular favorite of newspa- 
 per men, who delight in interview- 
 ing " Uncle Rufus " and not the 
 K'ss so of the reading public, be- 
 cause they always find in what he 
 has to say spicy and witty expres- 
 sions, and the refreshing hearti- 
 ness and good-will of which his 
 countenance gives abundant indi- 
 cation. Mr. Hatch is not an old 
 man, being under fifty-one years 
 of age, and everybody who knows 
 him shares in the expectation that 
 ^ he will furnish tidbits in the way of 
 quaint and clever sayings for an- 
 other generation yet. His physical 
 appearance and condition warrant 
 this pleasant anticipation. Vigor- 
 ous, active, and careful of his 
 health, with an unfailing flow of 
 good spirits, spicy speech, and 
 kindly feeling, the absence of 
 " Uncle Rufus " fi-om his usual re- 
 sorts in the Empire City is in the 
 nature of a public calamity. Long 
 may he flourish! 
 
 'The picture gives an excellent 
 idea of the frank and open counte- 
 nance with which nature has fa- 
 vored Mr. Hatch, and which is the 
 fitting " frontispiece " of a sturdy 
 body formed for strength and ac- 
 tivity, the enjoyment of the good 
 things of this life, and to give a 
 comely and fine presence and ex- 
 ecutive force to a man shrewd and 
 sagacious, energetic and worldly- 
 wise, and at the same time over- 
 flowing with " the milk of human 
 kindness." 
 
 Mr. Hatch is a native of Maine, 
 and was born at Wells, York Co., 
 on the 24th of June, 1832. His fa- 
 ther was a farmer, and brought 
 his son up in the pursuit of agri- 
 culture. The elder Hatch was a 
 judicious parent, gentle and com- 
 panionable with nis boy, whose 
 judgment and self-respect he care- 
 fully cultivated and fostered. At 
 nineteen Rufus left home for the 
 ' A West, urged by the ambition to im- 
 prove his circumstances and enlarge his sphere 
 of activity. He soon procured employment as 
 helper to the corps of engineers who surveyed 
 for the first railway constructed in Wisconsin, 
 and which now forms a portion of the Chicago 
 and Northwestern Railroad. About three years 
 after this time Mr. Hatch had acquired suflScient 
 means to justify his starting in business for him- 
 self. Accordingly, he opened an office in Chi- 
 cago as a g^ain oroker. In a short time he be- 
 came a member in the firm of Armstrong & Co. 
 of that city, the phenomenal success of which 
 preceded tiie collapse in its fortunes occasioned 
 fcy the rapid decline in the price of grain result- 
 ing from the hasty termination of the Crimean 
 war in March, 1856. Mr. Hatch honorably shoul- 
 dered the obUgations of the house, and paid off 
 every dollar of its indebtedness with interest as 
 soon as he was able, notwithstanding that all of 
 the accounts had outrun the Statute of ijimita- 
 tions. In 1862 he went to New York City with 
 the slender capital of only two thousand Ipllars. 
 At that time Henry Keep was the leading jail- 
 road broker iu the commercial capital ofthe 
 
 New World. He encouraged the newcomer in 
 his enterprises, and both men bouglit largely of 
 Chicago and Northwestern stock, to the credit of 
 their sagacity and the liberal increase of their 
 fortune. Mr'. Hatch soon became a considerable 
 man on the street. Ho originated tlio Open 
 Board of Brokers, and was the first vice-presi- 
 dent of this organization, which grew into tlio 
 Stock Exchange. Wlien thw body was instituted 
 tliree-fourths of its members offered tlie presi- 
 dency to Mr. Hatch, who declined it. Tlie panic 
 of 1873 used " Uncle Rufus" very harshly, Ijut 
 he struggled gamely along against adversity un- 
 til 1870, when ho failed. During a portion of the 
 interval between these dates he was vice-presi- 
 dent and managing director of the Pacific Mail 
 Steamship Company. TIio confidence of liie as- 
 sociate's was evidenced llatteringly at the time of 
 his failure in his beuig reinstated m his member- 
 ship on the Stock Exchange by the unanimous 
 vote of its members — a confidence confirmed by 
 his payment of every dollar he owed just as soon 
 as ho could manage to do it. Mr. Hatch sold his 
 seat in the Stock Exchange two years ago, but is 
 active as can be in his business, which is now 
 principally as a dealer in cattle. He is presi- 
 aent of the American Board of the Cattle Ranch 
 
 than ordinary interest to the man junt now. 
 His shrewd and witty answers on that occasion 
 have excited an admiration wideH])read as the 
 circulation of the papers in winch they were re- 
 ported. Asked whether he was familiar with 
 the system of making corners, ho replied: " I've 
 heard people speak about them. I never made 
 a corner myseli." " Do you know of others do- 
 ing soV" "I know uotuiug of other piioplc's 
 business." He understood a corner " to be 
 madu by buying more than there is in existence 
 of a certain commodity— stock, bonds, coal, oil, 
 meat, grain— cabbage iicads:" and thought the 
 purpose of a corner "maybe to secure some- 
 thing for home consumption, or it may be for a 
 profit. It may be to sell again to the man who 
 lias sold you what he hasn't got." Sir. Hatch 
 condemned futures, corners, and the watering of 
 stock. His influence as a business man has 
 been favorable to the public well-being. He 
 originated the phrase " slioin lambs," as applied 
 to the unfortunate small speculators who arc 
 "fleeced" by stronger and richer men. Mr 
 Hatch uses the pen with an effect perhaps equal 
 to that of his spicy conversation. His biirlcetpic 
 upon the Northwestern Pacific Railroad scheme, 
 first published in 1871, was widely circulated in 
 Europe as well as in America. He 
 possesses a good library and revels 
 among his books. Ono of his most 
 favorite recreations is music, and 
 he is readily pardoned a little van- 
 ity on the score of his possessing 
 the best private library in New 
 York City of works on that art. At 
 an earlier period of bis life he was 
 an accomplished organist, and still 
 performs with excellent taste. His 
 charities are generous. 
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 and Land Company (Limited) of London, and 
 has been very successful in pushing its business 
 in this country. 
 
 Mr. Hatch is emphatically a family man, sim- 
 ple as a child in the enjoyment of his home. 
 His first wife was Miss Charlotte Hatch, though 
 of the same name not related to him, to whom 
 he was married in 1853, and who lived with him 
 in happy companionship twenty years, when she 
 died, leaving three children, two boys and one 
 daughter. The last-named is the wife of William 
 E. Kimball, an eminent dry-goods merchant of 
 New York. Mr. Hatch's second wife is the 
 daughter of Commodore Gray. She has borne 
 him one child, a son, named after ex-Senator 
 Conkling, at a time when that statesman's politi- 
 cal fortunes were most decidedly at ebb. This 
 choice of name is characteristic of Mr. Hatch, 
 who stands by his friends when they need sym- 
 
 Eathy, expressions of respect, or more substantial 
 elp the most. 
 
 Reports of Mr. Hatch's recent appearance be- 
 fore a committee of the New York Senate receiv- 
 ing testimony ou corners and futures give a more 
 
 WILLIAM H. VANDEBBrLT. 
 
 William H. Vanderbilt is the old- 
 est son of the late Commodore Cor- 
 nelius Vanderbilt. He was born at 
 the summer residence of his fa- 
 ther, New Brunswick, N. J., and, 
 after an excellent and practical 
 education at Columbia College 
 Grammar School, he entered, m 
 his eighteenth year, the financial 
 house of Drew, Robinson & Co., 
 New York, where he exhibited such 
 industry and executive ability that, 
 on the expiration of two years, he 
 was offered a partnership. The 
 close confinement, however, hav- 
 ing begun to prey on his health, 
 be determined to take up farming 
 as a means of recuperation; and, 
 the Commodore having bought him 
 seventy- five acres of unimproved 
 land on Staten Island, he at once 
 took his young wife there, and set 
 to work with such skill and energy 
 that he not only cleared the seven- 
 ty-five acres, but soon had a larger 
 tract puichased, and three hun- 
 dred and filty acres under crop. 
 
 In relation to this seventy-five 
 acres, Mr. Vanderbilt alleges, it is 
 said, that it tried him sorely, as he 
 had not sufficient means to work 
 and improve it thoroughly; nor 
 would his father advance him a 
 dollar to aid him. In this extrem- 
 ity he mortgaged the land for 
 $6,000, which he turned to good 
 account; and the circumstance 
 coming to the Commodore's ears, 
 the old gentleman observed to him as they were 
 riding together on one occasion: 
 
 " So you mortgaged the New Dorp farm for 
 $6,000, did you? Yon don't amount to a row of 
 pins, and never will." 
 
 " I did mortgage the farm," replied the son, 
 " and have put every cent of the money right 
 into improving the land. " 
 
 " Well,"' continued the Commodore, " I'll have 
 nothing more to do with you, for you'll only 
 bring disgrace on yourself, your family, anil 
 everybody connected with youl" 
 
 This latter prognostication does not appear to 
 have been fumlled; and, as to Mr. Vanderbilt 
 never amounting to a row of pins, we think there 
 has been no very clear verification of this asser- 
 tion either. However, the Commodore does not 
 seem to have put much faith in the one or the 
 other, for the morning after the conversation 
 took place he sent the son a check for $6,000, 
 ordenng him to pay off the mortgage immedi- 
 ately. 
 
 Shortly after this period the Staten Island Rail- 
 road Company became embarrassed, when Mr. 
 
54 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 Vanderbilt and bis \incle Jacob entering the 
 management, relieved Ihe road of its difficulties 
 and improved its prospocts lu a marked degree. 
 The experience acqnued here gave the subject 
 of our portrait such an insight into railroad af- 
 fairs, and so advanced him in the opinion of cer- 
 tain capitalists and stockholders, that, in 1864, 
 he was elected Vice-President of tlie New York 
 and Harlem, and in 1856 of the Hudson River 
 Line, which, under his management, became so 
 prosperous, that he was unheeitatmgly recog- 
 
 BtrrUS HATCH. 
 
 nized as not only a railroad manager of profound 
 knowledge and experience, but worthy the con- 
 fidence of the Commodore to the fullest extent. 
 It was now plain sailing until the death of his 
 father, wlien, as all the world knows, he sudden- 
 ly became possessed of untold wealth. 
 
 In 1841, Mr. Vanderbilt married Miss Eissam, 
 the daughter of a Now York clergyman, and a 
 Gliristian lady of sterling qualities and attain- 
 ments. This union has been bloat with nine 
 children, eight of whom are still alive, com- 
 prising a most iiiterestmg and charming family 
 of sons and daughters, all finely educated. He 
 has made various visits to Europe, where he has 
 purchased numerous works of art for the adorn- 
 ment of his homo on this side of the Atlantic. 
 His charities and public spirit nro not uuwortliy 
 his vast wealth, although ho does not seem to 
 court notoriety through these channels. Tins 
 may be inferred from the fact, that notwithstand- 
 ing ho had defrayed the whole cost of the re- 
 moval of tUo obelisk, Cleopatra's Needle, from 
 Alexandria, Egypt, to its' site in Central Park, 
 New York, it was some time before the public 
 was made awaro of the ciroiimHt.ince. 
 
 Mr. Vanderbilt is now sixty years of age, and 
 is still hale and active. When in New York ho 
 spends much of his time with his family and the 
 few Iriends he has selected from among his 
 many acquaintances. In private life ho is frank, 
 opeu and generous, but always has an eye to bu»i- 
 ness. There is nothing about his dross or gen- 
 eral appearance to distinguish him from an ordi- 
 nary American gcntlemau. His hair was once 
 dark, but is now iron gray, and his side whiskers 
 large and llowiiig, although ho wears no mous- 
 taone. Ho is rattier heavily built, and looks like 
 a man who has yet many years of usefulness be- 
 fore him. He is the richest man in the world, 
 \iis wealth being estimated at three hundred 
 iiiillions of dollars. His new mansion on Filth 
 Avenue is one of the most maguidcent in this 
 country, and cost $2,000,000. 
 
 CYRUS W. FIELJ3. 
 
 CosrPARATi\'ELY but few men have so directed 
 their individual business activity as to make 
 their names prominent as those of eminent 
 statesmen, the directors of nations, and the ad- 
 miration of the whole world. Mr. Cyrus West 
 Field is one of those distingnished commercial 
 persons, possessed of the faculty to see the far- 
 reaching importance of certain enterprises, the 
 courage to engage in them in their earliest Btace, 
 and to devote money, time, and indefatigable 
 personal e-^Virt to their accomplishment. The 
 life of Mr. Field is a remarkably interesting 
 record of business efifort, so directed as to give 
 
 distinction broad as the extent of civilization and 
 to be perpetuated throughout the future history 
 of human progress. 
 
 Cyrus West Field was born at Stockbridge, 
 Mass., November 30, 1819. Alter receiving a 
 fair education in hie native place, he was placed 
 in a counting-house in New York City, where he 
 developed a capacity lor business, which, m a 
 few years, placed him at the head of a large es- 
 tablishment. He was about thirty-five years of 
 age when his attention was first directed to the 
 subject of ocean telegraphy. In a short time 
 this attention took a practical turn, when be 
 procured from the legislature of Newfoundland 
 the exclusive right for fifty years to establish a 
 telegraph from this continent 'lo Newfoundland 
 and thence to Europe. He devoted himself with 
 exemplary energy to the accomplishment of this 
 great scheme, which involved as its initial under- 
 taking the providing of Newfoundland with the 
 means of telegraphic communication. The two 
 attempts to lay the submarine cable between 
 Cape Bay and Cape Breton followed, the second 
 a success. Next in order came the expedition 
 of 1857-'58, by means of which telegraphic com- 
 munication was established between the conti- 
 nent of America and the island of Newfound- 
 land. 
 
 When, in 1865 and 1866, attempts were made to 
 lay the Atlantic cable, Mr. Field assisted, in con- 
 nection with other eminent business men, foreign 
 and American, in this gigantic undertaking, 
 winch, in the second of these years, proved suc- 
 cessful. His labors at this time involved more 
 than fifty passages across the Atlantic, and were 
 rewarded with the acknowledgment of his fel- 
 low-citizens, taking the form of a gold medal 
 voted to him and some of his fellow- workers by 
 the Congress of the United States. Abroad, his 
 services in this connection have been tlattcrmgly 
 recognized, including the bestowal of the grand 
 medal by the Exposition of Pans. His latest 
 great business enterprise was that of assisting in 
 the construction of the Third Avenue Elevated 
 Railroad of New York, by a company of which 
 he was president. 
 
 BUSSELL SAOE. 
 
 Fob a period approaching a quarter of a cen- 
 tury, ever since the year 1860, Mr. Russell Sage 
 has transacted business ou Wall Street, and in 
 now a millionaire the extent of whose wealth is 
 only guessed at, but probably exceeds the num- 
 ber of millions represented by the fingers aiul 
 thumbs of both hands. He is a native of New 
 York State, burn at Verona, Oiitida County, Au- 
 gust 15, 1816. His parents were poor, and he 
 received a very limited edncalion. When fifteen 
 years old, he int'-n-.l the grocerj' business aa 
 
 WILIIAM JJ. VANUEKUILT. 
 
 assistant to his brother Henry Sage, who " ran " 
 a small store at Troy, N. Y., and with whom he 
 remained three years. During this engagement, 
 as in the operations of the playground previous- 
 ly, young Sage is said to have manifested peculiar 
 aptitude in trading and a disposition to take care 
 ot what this commercial instinct brought him. 
 When eighteen years old, ho took a step in ad- 
 vance by associating himself as partner with his 
 brother Elislia. The brothers conducted a gro- 
 cery and provision business, to which the younger 
 
 of them added transactions of a profitable char- 
 acter, which included trading in horses. In all 
 his multifarious business, Mr. Sage was straight- 
 forward and honorable. " Old Integrity," as ho 
 is sometimes called on Wall Street, has always 
 acted in a manner not compromising to his good 
 name. His integrity, m fact, has proved a strong 
 element in his success. Incessant and well- 
 directed efifort by the partners gave them the 
 means to buy a siiip in which their country pro- 
 duce wae transported to New Y'ork for sale. 
 
 CTBBS W. FIELD. 
 
 When, in the course of time the partnership with 
 Elisba was dissolved, Russell became a member 
 of the firm of Rates <fe Sage, upon the dissolution 
 of which lie began business alone. Afterwards 
 as the junior partner of Slocum & Sage, he con- 
 tinued to be interested in heavy transactions in 
 grain, beef, pork and flour, and in packing beef 
 and pork in the West. By contracting to supply 
 beef and other provisions to the United States 
 Navy, Mr. Sage's capital was augmented. Troy, 
 of course, shared in tho prosperity of the young 
 merchant, who was one of tho founders of the 
 Bank of Troy, and afterwards a director and 
 Vice-President of that prosperous institution. 
 In 1852, Ihe consolidation of certain railroads 
 between Albany and Bufifalo resulted in the for- 
 mation of tho New York Central Railroad. Tho 
 city of Troy, which had originally owned the 
 Schenectady and Troy Railroad, had sold it to 
 ex-Governor E. D. Morgan at such a low price 
 that he was able to mako a large profit by dis- 
 posing of it to tho New York Central. Mr. Sage 
 was interested in this sale, his first railroad 
 transaction. He afterwards, in 1857, bought an 
 interest in the Mihvaukco and St. Paul Railroad, 
 and increased his share m the system of rail- 
 roads now known as that of Milwaukee and St. 
 Paul, by snbsoquent investments; and by dint of 
 courage and light, as well as financial scheming, 
 was rich 111 stocks and bonds at tho outbreak of 
 the Civil War. He acted as a director of tho 
 Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad for a consid- 
 erable tunc, until 1874, when he withdrew in 
 consequence of a dispute with its President. As 
 was stilted before, ho entered Wall Street in 18G0. 
 He was at that time worth about $800,000. Since 
 then ho has been one of tho largest stockholdirs 
 of the Importers' and Traders' Bank of New 
 York City. In 1872, he began to sell privileges 
 as a business, and is best known as an operator 
 on Wall Street in this connection. Mr. Sage was 
 largely interested in the sale of tho Atlantic and 
 Pacific Telegraph Company's business to the 
 Western Union. He has an oflBce in William 
 Street, New York, an unpretending place, but 
 the center of great wealth and an untiring vigi- 
 lance. 
 
 Mr. Sago has made quite a reputation in poli- 
 tics. Ho is an ardent Republican, as ho had 
 been before an ardent Whig. Ho served as an 
 Alderman in Troy from 1843 to 1850, and was 
 Treasurer of Rensselaer County from 1848 to 
 1851. In 1848, ho served as delegate in tho 
 Whig National Convention, wherein ho distin- 
 guished himself in tho interest of Henry Clay. 
 Beaten while running for Congress in 1850, two 
 years afterward ho was triuraphantlv returned 
 as a Representative to tho Thirty-third Confiross. 
 In 1854, he was re-elected, and in 1856 distin- 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 55 
 
 giiisUed liiinsclf by a speech on the Kuiiaus mid 
 Slavery quostions. Only a year afterward, ho 
 retir«.Ml from politics, after havin(j made himself 
 'a good ix'corj in CougrcsH both an a debater and 
 committec-mau. 
 
 Uussell Sago's eiuinonuc rests chiefly upon 
 lus promiueuco " on the street, " where his Iti- 
 tegnty is as remarkable as his astuteness. It 
 should not bo forgotten that Mr. iSago has church 
 coDuections, in which his contributions have 
 been eoraotiuics oonspiouous. 
 
 AUGUST BELMONT. 
 
 This lamoua New York banker was born in 
 Alzey, in the Palatinate, on the left bank of the 
 Khinc, in 181G. When but thirteen years of age 
 he entered the banking house of the Rothschilds, 
 and in April, 1837, came to this country as their 
 American correspondent. 
 
 Though a vorj' young man, he established a 
 banking house in May, 1837, which has steadily 
 grown, under his careful supervision, until to- 
 aay it stands among the first in the world. 
 
 With the exception of the four years when Mr. 
 Belmont was luiuister to The Hague, he has re- 
 sided in the United States, and during the forty- 
 six years of active business life has amassed a 
 very large fortune. He has taken an active inter- 
 est in the politics of the nation, and was chairman 
 of the National Democratic Committee from 1860 
 to 1872. During hia residence in this country, 
 lie has attained, not only prominence as a finan- 
 cial manager, but also popularity as a gentle- 
 man and a staunch advocate of manhood and 
 honesty. 
 
 A slight lameness in his walk is the result of a 
 duel with Mr. Haywardof South Carolina, whose 
 insulting and uncalled for remarks at Niblo's 
 Garden, in August, 1841, kd Mr. Belmont to 
 seek redress upon the field of honor, in ac.ord- 
 ance with the rules of the code. Mr. Hayward 
 was not injured, but Mr. Belmont received a 
 bullet wound in the thigh which gave him serious 
 trouble lor a long time. 
 
 Mr. Belmont has the strong face and character- 
 istics of a thorough business man, and, though 
 he has a quick, impulsive temper, yet, in con- 
 versation, he IS mild and courteous to a high de- 
 gree. He has a decided aversion to notoriety, is 
 modest and unassuming, and his cheeks flush 
 as refidily as a girl's at words of commendation. 
 
 He claims that bis life has been that of a plain 
 business man. Success has produced an effect 
 ia him, too seldom found among prominent in- 
 dividuals, that of drawing him nearer to his 
 fellow men, rather than exalting him to a super- 
 cilious atmosphere above them. 
 
 CH.^UNCEY M. DEPEW. 
 
 Chauncey M. Depew was born in Feekskill, 
 New York State, in the year 1835. He is of an 
 
 study soon after ho had graduated. His father, 
 who was a staunch Democrat, although proud of 
 his promise and attainments, found to his morti- 
 llcation that young Chauncey had studied a 
 branch of social science, or rather adopted views 
 which, although not necessarily portaimnB to the 
 curriculum of liis Alma Mater, disturbed some 
 of the traditions of his more immediate ances- 
 tors—in a word, he had become a Kepublican. 
 
 RTJSSKIX, SAGE. 
 
 old Hngnenot family of not«, which emigrated 
 to this country during the religious persecutions 
 in France, and settled on the banks of the Hud- 
 son while the colony was under the dominion of 
 the Dutch. From his childhood he had many 
 social advantages and incentives to the success 
 which has for so far crowned his career. He 
 was educated at Yale, and early determining to 
 dcTote himself to the law, he entered upon its 
 
 peculiarly his own. Here his wit, humor, and 
 eloquence are models of perfection. On one 9C- 
 casiun, being called on iiiiexptctedly to make a 
 speech at a St. George's dinner, during tlie 
 course of his observations he olijecicd to the un- 
 fairness with which ho was treated in not having 
 been given time to prop;iio an addrcHS, when 
 the chairman and other BpoaUcrs had studied 
 tlioir speeches for throe woohs, and liad thoni then 
 and there written in their pocket'*. Tlie chair- 
 man, who was not aware of the inveterate 
 humorist's love of a joke, took the matter seri- 
 ously, and starting to his foot <xclairned, " Ton 
 my honor, gentleineii, so far as 1 am concerned, 
 tlicre is not a word of truth in that statement." 
 At a St. Andrew's festival on another occasion, 
 lie observed that wlionover he came among 
 Scotchmen he heard them laughing at jokes he 
 had listened to a year before at other dinners. 
 Upon which a petulant son of St. Andrew said, 
 when he resumed his seat, " A, weel, Maisther 
 Depew, I dinua seeonything vorra funny in your 
 observations about the auld jokes o' last year." 
 •'Ofcoursel of course! my fi lend," replied the 
 incorrigible Chauncey, " that's what I have been 
 endeavoring to get at. The time has not come 
 lor you yet. Wait till the next anniversary, and 
 you will see the fun of it as clear as day." 
 
 AUGUST BEI.MO^T. 
 
 " WhatI " said the old gentleman, on being com- 
 plimented on the brilliancy of the earliest politi- 
 cal speech of his son—" what! call that Republi- 
 can stuff brilliant ? I sent him to college a sen- 
 sible fellow, but he has come back a fool " — a 
 conclusion which has since been regarded as 
 somewhat precipitate and premature. 
 
 Mr. Depew was called to the bar in 1858, and 
 devoted himself most assiduously and success- 
 fully to his profession. That he did not aban- 
 don politics, however, is evident from the fact 
 that in 1861 he -was elected to the Assembly of 
 liis native State, and was re-elected in 1862. Al- 
 though the youngest member of the House of 
 1863, he was brought forward by his party as 
 candidate for Speaker, and on the election of 
 Callicot became Chairman of Ways and Means, 
 which elevated him to the leadership of the 
 House. In the same year he was elected Secre- 
 tary of State by over" thirty thousand majority, 
 and served one year under Governor Seymour's 
 administration, "and one year under Governor 
 Feuton's. Being at the period but about twenty- 
 seven years of age, his party, as alleged with a 
 view to concealing his youth, proposed that he 
 should wear a long coat and a liigli shirt collar; 
 but he demurred, as we understand, setting 
 forth as a reason that he was installed as Secre- 
 tary of State and not as Deacon of the House. 
 
 In 1866 Mr. Depew was appointed United States 
 Minister to Japan by Mr. Seward, but held the 
 post for one month only, as, on second consid- 
 eration, he found it would interfere too seriously 
 with his professional career. In 1872 he united 
 himself with the Horace Greeley party, and ac- 
 cepted the nomination as Lieutenant Governor 
 with Francis Kernan, but failed to achieve suc- 
 cess. He did not, however, lose his position in 
 the Republican party, for in 1874 he was elected 
 by a Republican Legislature Regent of the Uni- 
 versity, which position he holds for life. 
 
 In 1867 he was appointed attorney of a division 
 of the New York Central Railroad, "and was sub- 
 sequently made general counsel of the law de- 
 Eartment of that corporation. In this position 
 e gained the entire confidence of the elder Van- 
 derbilt, and was fortunate in securing that of the 
 successor of the famous millionaire also. To ac- 
 complish a feat so difficult required no ordinary 
 judgment, experience, and tact; and the fact of 
 his success in tliis relation alone would be suffi- 
 cient to establish his claims as a gentleman of the 
 most consummate tact and talent. 
 
 Although an admirable speaker under any cir- 
 cumstances, it is in an after-dinner speech that he 
 sbiaes with a brilUaacy at once fascinating and 
 
 WHITELAW BEID. 
 
 Journalists by the name of Reid, spelled in 
 one of Its g'iveral practicable ways, are nnmcr- 
 oiis on both sides the North Atlantic. They are 
 all of them Scotchmen or of Scotch descent. The 
 most fortunate, if not the most brilliant, of his 
 contemporary scribbling namesakes is Whitelaw 
 Reid, who edits the paper " founded by Horace 
 Greelov," and is one of its proprietoi-H. He was 
 born at Xenia, Ohio, in Octolier, 1837. His par- 
 ents gave him a good education. At fifteen he 
 entered the Miami University, at O.xford, Butler 
 County, Ohio, where ho was graduated in 185C. 
 He began the active duties of life as principal of 
 the graded schools in South Charleston, Clark 
 County, in tbe same State, but did not continue 
 in this occupation long. In 1857 he bought the 
 Xenia News, and did such good work on that 
 journal as to give it a notoriety wide as the State. 
 This led to his engagement "by the Times and 
 Gazette of Cincinnati and the Herald of Cleve- 
 land, as their Columbus correspondent. TSie 
 war gave him the opportunity of ^tinguisUng 
 himself as a correspondent at the Mt of hostili- 
 ties. He served the Cincinnati Gazette m this 
 capacity, and in 1862 became a stockholder of 
 tliat journal, the publication of which he subse- 
 quently assisted in the capacity of associate edi- 
 tor. His connection with the New York Tiibune 
 began with his being the editor in charge of its 
 Washington bureau. He ventured upon the 
 publication of a volume in the year 1865. It was 
 entitled " After the War— A Southern Tour," and 
 
 eH.ir.scEY >l. DErE". 
 
 recorded observations made in company with 
 Chief-Justice Chase on an extensive range of 
 travel. Reid published another book in 1868, 
 " Ohio m the War," a work of considerable length 
 and value. He became permanently an editor 
 on the staff of the T)-ibune in 1870, and when 
 Horace Greeley was a candidate for the presi- 
 dencv, assumed the position of managing editor. 
 Possiblv his abilitv as an editor is not equdi t* 
 
So 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 bi8 superiority as an elegant and forceful writer. 
 Mr. Beid's position as a leader in politics has 
 been strengtuened recently by the consideration 
 sure to attend a man who, after being a bachelor 
 many years, succeeds in marrying a beauty 
 worth a million of dollars. 
 
 J.UaES OOBDOX BKNSETT. 
 
 The second bearer of this name became pro- 
 prietor of the New York Herald upon the death 
 
 WHlTEIiAW B£ID. 
 
 of his father, Jane 1, 1872. America's most en- 
 terprising newspaper was then about thirtv-seven 
 years old, as now the first in value ani costly 
 uewainess of Cis-Atlantic journals. Young Ben- 
 nett was then only twenty-ftve years of age. In- 
 heriting the enterprise as well as the magnificent 
 newspaper jAopcrty built up by his father, un- 
 der his manJlJiBment its triumphs have exceeded 
 those of its earlier history. People who dislike 
 the views of the IleraM and find, as they beheve, 
 greater scholarship and literary abihty in some 
 other papers, foel the comfortable assurance, 
 when tney open 5[r. Bennett's sheet, that they 
 possess the news of the day, with nothing of im- 
 portance omitted iu all its deparmu-ntH. Re- 
 markable iuHtances of unrivaled enterprise in 
 the managcmeut of the Iferald are easily re- 
 called. In 1866 Mr. Bennett paid seven thousand 
 dollars in gold tor the transmission of King Wil- 
 helm's speech after the battle of Sa<1owa. When 
 our English cousins invactod Abyssinia, in 1HG8, 
 the Ilera'.d's dispatches from the seat of Lord 
 Napier's military operations were mentioned 
 witii appreciation by the London Times. In 1871 
 Mr. Bennett sent "an expedition to Africa in 
 search ot Sir Samuel Baker, then exploring the 
 sources of the Nili!. A year after came the news 
 that Stanley, a correspondent of the Herald, had 
 found Livingstone. The recent Bennett expedi- 
 tion to the Arctic regions needs no mention. 
 Calcalatious as to the value of the llcrnid place 
 it among the millions. Its proprietor spends the 
 greater portion of his time in Europe, but is un- 
 (hfrstoou to be in daily communication with his 
 paper, by means ot the Atlantic cable. His in- 
 tention, in association with other enterprising 
 newspaper men, to pro\-ide a cable for the trans- 
 mission of news and other matter, independent 
 of the alleged annovances which accompany the 
 use of those in employment at the present time, 
 is regarded with favor. 
 
 PHILIP J. A. HXBPER. 
 
 The firm of Harper & Brothers, the famous 
 publishers of books and periodicals, as at pres- 
 ent constituted consists of the following gentle- 
 men: Philip J. A. Harper and John W. Harper; 
 who reside in Queens Couutv, New York; Joseph 
 Abner Harper, of Orange County, New York, 
 and Fletcher Harper, Joseph W". Harper, Jr., 
 and Joseph Henry Harper, of New York City. 
 These gentlemen are sons of the original mem- 
 bers of the firm. Others of the family are em- 
 ployed iu the house. As the Harpers are a mar- 
 rying and prolific race, there seems to be no pos- 
 sibility of the book-publishing business being 
 deprived of tbek repreaeut&tiOB tor gcuoratiouit. 
 
 From 1825 to 1869 the firm consisted of four 
 brothers: James Harper, born in 1795; John, 
 born in 1Y97; Joseph Wesley, commonly called 
 Wesley, born in 1801; and Fletcher, born in 1806. 
 James died March 17, 1869, from injuries re- 
 ceived from being thrown from his carriage; 
 Weslev died February 14, 1870; John, April 22, 
 1875; and Fletcher, May 29, 1877. The Harper 
 business originated with the two elder brothers, 
 in the year 1817, under the firm name of J. & J. 
 Harper. In 1833, the other brothers, who had 
 been in the employment of their seniors, were 
 admitted to partnership, and the name was 
 changed to what it is at present. By 1840 the 
 Harper printing, binding and pubUshing busi- 
 ness had grown to such size that it occupied sev- 
 eral buildings on both aides of Cliff Street, New 
 York, but these were soon found to be too small, 
 and in 1850 a fine building was erected on Frank- 
 lin Square, which was destroyed shortly after its 
 occupatiou. The present Harper Building rose 
 from its ashes. It is one of the most complete 
 establishments in the world, and covers anout 
 half an acre. The structure is fire-proof, strong, 
 well-lighted and ventilated and handsouie. It 
 consists ol two parts connected by iron bridges, 
 and inclosing a court-yard. The FrankUn Square 
 
 Eortion is five stories above ground, and that 
 ■onting on Cliff Street, six. In the Harper es- 
 tablishment is included the store, the editors' 
 rooms, artists and engravers' rooniB, composing 
 and electrotyping departments, rooms for print- 
 ing, drying and pressing, folding, sewing and 
 covering, and binding. Besides these there are 
 facilities for producing everv kind of pictures 
 used m their books and periodicals. Visitors are 
 allowed to inspect the whole of the building ex- 
 cepting that i)ortion appropriated to the use of 
 the artiste and engravers. 
 
 PETEB COOPEK. 
 
 No man was more honored and loved than the 
 venerable Peter Cooper, whose death is mourned 
 as a public loss. Mr. Cooper was bora in New 
 York City, February 12th, 1791. His father 
 served as a lieutenant in the Revolution, alter 
 which he established a liat factory, where voung 
 Peter worked. In 1808 he was apprenticed to a 
 coachmaker, who esteemed him so highly that 
 he offered to start him iu business, which was 
 declined. Young Peter was able to attend 
 school but half of each day for a single year. 
 From 1812 to 1815, he manufactured a patent 
 machine lor shearing wool, which was in great 
 demand, but lost its value on the conclusion of 
 peace. He successively engaged in the manufac- 
 ture of cabinet ware, the grocery business and 
 in the manufacture of glue and isinglass, which 
 
 JAHE8 OOBDON BENHETT. 
 
 last he continued for more than forty years. 
 The success which everywhere crowned his 
 efforts he attributed to his never incurring a debt 
 and so never having interest to pay. His policy 
 was never to owe any man anything except good 
 will. He built iron works near Baltimore in 
 1830, and turned out the first locomotive engine 
 in America. Selling this soon after, he erected 
 a rolling and wire mill, in which anthracite coal 
 was first buccessfuUy applied to puddling iron. 
 
 In 1845, he erected at Trenton, New Jersey, the 
 largest mills then in the United States for the 
 manufacture of railroad iron. Here, he was the 
 first to roll iron beams for building purposes. He 
 invested a large capital in extending the electric 
 telegraph, and advocated the construction of the 
 Croton Aqueduct, New York. The Erie Canal 
 project received his hearty support, and he in- 
 vented an endless chain operated by water, 
 which in trial propelled a boat two "miles in 
 eleven minutes. 
 
 PHILIP J. A. HABPHB. 
 
 But his chief title to fame rests upon his efforts 
 in behalf of popular education. He was Vice- 
 President of the old PubUc School Society, whei- 
 it was merged iu the Board of Education. To 
 give the masses the benefits of the School ot 
 Technology he established in New York, in 1858^ 
 the Cooper Union for the Advancement e' 
 Science and Art. The building covers the block 
 between Seventh and Eighth Streets and Third 
 and Four'.h Avenues, and cost $2,000,000. To 
 this he added an endowment of $150,000 in cash, 
 and other gifts. 
 
 Free instruction is given in all branches of 
 drawing, painting, telegraphy, photography, 
 wood-engraving, besides mathematics, practical 
 chemistry, and engineering; and free lectures 
 are given in natural ])hilosophy and the elements 
 of chemistry. Over $50,000 are annually ex- 
 pended in maintauiing this institution, the library 
 continuing over 10,000 volumes, and some SOO 
 papers and periodicals being kept in the read- 
 ing room. 
 
 Mr. Cooper survived all the companions of his 
 vouth. At his birth New York had but '27,000 in- 
 habitants. He lived under every administration, 
 and remembered the services held iu New York 
 on Washington's death. He was full of reminis- 
 cences of the past history of New York and of the 
 country. Ho recalled the stockade built to keep 
 out the Indians, and the rail fence around the 
 negro burjnng ground, the eubsequent site of 
 Stewart's wholesale store. He related these in- 
 cidents with peculiar pride. His modesty was 
 equalled only by his generosity and public spiiit. 
 The only monument he desired was his con- 
 sciousness of having done good to his fellowmen. 
 He urged the establiphment of great lending li- 
 braries with reading and lecture rooms. When 
 his ninety-second birthday was observed, be pre- 
 sented a' copy of his " Ideas for a Science ol 
 Government to each of his visitors. 
 
 His career shows him to have been one of the 
 greatest of Americans and the noblest of men. 
 He learned three trades before he was twenty- 
 one; his genius enabled him to rank high as an 
 inventor; he was pre-eminently a man of affairs, 
 his knowledge of men and business securmg suc- 
 cess in every venture; and most important of all, 
 he was a broad and practical philanthropist, who 
 labored constantly for the elevation and ad- 
 vancement of the masses of the people. 
 
 His son Edward Cooper, was at one time 
 Mavor of New York, and a daughter is the wife 
 of the Hon. Abram S. Hewitt. 
 
 A WtAM 8. HEWITT. 
 
 Hon. Abram S. Hcivitt, a prominent manufac- 
 turer and pohtician, was born at Haverstraw, N. 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 57 
 
 Y., July 31, 1822. He obtaiued Lis early educa- 
 tion in the public schooU of New York City, 
 where he gained a prize HcholarHlup iu Columbia 
 TJoUego, trom which institution he graduated iu 
 1842. Ho was appointed Prolesaor of llathe- 
 matics the next year, and, having road law, ho 
 was admitted to the bar in 1845. But, as the 
 failure of hia eyesight precluded tho practice of 
 his profesBion lie soon engaged in the iron busi- 
 ness with Peter Cooper, under tho tirm name of 
 Cooper & Hewitt. In 1867, ho wuh appointed a 
 member of tho U. S. Scientilic ComiuiHaioii to 
 visit the Paris Exposition, and wrote tho report 
 on iron and stoel. Ho has managed tho Cooper 
 Union, founded by his father-in-law, I'cter Coop- 
 er, since its establishment iu 1854. 
 
 Mr. Hewitt has long been conspicuous in poli- 
 tics, taking an active part in the Presidential 
 campaigns of 1876 and 1880. Ho held close po- 
 litical relations with Mr. Tilden, and his connec- 
 tion witii the Morey letter is still fresh iu the 
 public mind. Mr. Hewitt was elected to Congress 
 lu 1874 and 1870, and again in 1880 and 1882, 
 representing the Tenth District of New York. 
 
 HON. 8. s. cox. 
 " Sunset " Cox, as he is popularly called, or 
 Samuel SolliTan Cox, as he was baptized, is a 
 grandson of James Cox, who was a Congress- 
 man before him, aa well aa a brigadier-genoral 
 of New Jersey militia, and a Democratic poli- 
 tician of note. Samuel's father loft the old 
 homestead at Monmouth some tiino after James 
 Cox's death and emigrated to Ohio, settling at 
 Zanesville, where Samuel S. was born on the 
 30th of September, 1824. The boy, after passing 
 through the common school curriculum of those 
 days, was sent to tho Ohio University, where, 
 however, he did not finish his collegiate career, 
 "> but went to Brown University, at Providence, 
 R. I., where ho graduated in the class of 1846. 
 He atudied law, went back to Ohio, and began to 
 practice iu the courts. He did not, however, 
 take kindly to tho profoaaiou, aud after a trip iu 
 Europe, tho story of which he told in " A Buck- 
 eye Abroad," he, in 1853, became the editor of 
 the Ohio Statesman, published at Columbus. Iu 
 1855 he was appointed Secretary ol Legation to 
 Peru by tho Pierce Admimatration, and on his 
 return ho cultivated politics, aud was elected 
 from tho CoUimbua (0.) Diatrict to the 35th Con- 
 gress, which was in session during the moment- 
 ous period just preceding the inauguration of 
 Abraham Lincoln as President. He stood nobly 
 
 by the Union, and was rewarded by being re- 
 turned successively to the 37th anil 38th Con- 
 gresses. In 1864 he was defeated, however, by 
 the Republican candidate, and he removed to 
 New York City iu the following spring. Here he 
 wrote hia " Eight Years in Congress," an inter- 
 esting Tolnme of personal observations and 
 experiences. The interval between his removal 
 irom Ohio to New York and in hia elec- 
 tion from a New York diatrict, Mr. Cox 
 passed either in travels abroad or in writing 
 amusing books about these travels. In 1868 he 
 
 first appeared as a caudidato in Niw York City, 
 and was elected by a largo majority over Starr, 
 his RepubUcan opponent, which was greatly aug- 
 mented two years after when Horace Greeley ran 
 againat him. In 1872, however, when he ran for 
 Congresaman-at-Large againat Lyman Tremaiue, 
 ho was defeated. Ho was, however, a few 
 montha after, clioaoii to fill the seat made vacant 
 by the death of Janms Brooks, and since then he 
 liaa been constantly in Congreas, doing good 
 aervico, not only by hia wit and vivacity in de- 
 bate, but also by hie adroitness on committees. 
 
 A. 3. HEWITT. 
 
 His work on the latter has never been fully ap- 
 preciated by the public generally. His freedom 
 from partisan bitterness, together with his win- 
 ning social qualities, have made him aa great a 
 favorite among Republicans as his mastery of 
 parliamentary law and constant readiness to en- 
 ter into the thick of a party engagement has made 
 him a necessity to the Democrats. He haa now 
 served in the House almost twenty years longer 
 than any other member in it. 
 
 OEOBOE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 At tho head and front of those members of the 
 Republican party who deprecate what they are 
 pleased to consider the tyranny of the party ma- 
 chine, and as the leading political writer on 
 Harper's Weekly, in which widely circulated 
 journal hia viowa are regularly presented, 
 George William Curtis occupiea a" leading poai- 
 tion among men of the hour. 
 
 Mr. Curtis is of MaaaachuaettB descent, but 
 was bom in Providence, Rhode Island, about 
 fifty-eight years ago. It was hia father'a inten- 
 tion that be should be a dry goods merchant, 
 and at the age of fifteen he was placed in the 
 counting-room of an importer doing business in 
 New York City. Two years afterward he had re- 
 linquished trading pursuits and had become a 
 member of the community at Brook Farm. A 
 worshiper of Emerson, lie next turned up at 
 I 'oncord, and began the practice of agnculture. 
 In another two years he had found hia way to 
 Kurope, Egypt, a"nd Syria. When he returned 
 to America" in 1850, ho published hia " Nile 
 Motes of a Howadii." As a member of the stafi' 
 "f tho New York Iribtme, he wrote that series of 
 watering-place letters whicli he afterward pub- 
 hshed in a book entitled " Lotus Eating." His 
 " Howadji in Syria "' was hia next literary ven- 
 ture, and proved a flattering auccees. Hia well- 
 known " Potiphar Papers " were first publiahed 
 in Putnam's Magazine, of which he was for a 
 time one of the editors. The failure of Putnam 
 & Co., a house in which he was financially inter- 
 ested, involved him in obligations which he faith- 
 fully discharged by tho work of ten years. 
 "Trumps," a novel^ first saw the light in //ar- 
 per's Weekly. The " Easy Chair " of the Monthly 
 is Mr. Curtis's. With, it is said $25,000 a year, 
 Mr. Curtia has a refined and elegant homo on 
 Staten Island. He is eminently successful as a 
 public speaker, and frequently appears on the 
 lecture platform. 
 
 EDWIN BOOTH. 
 
 Edwin Booth, the celebrated tragedian, is fifty 
 years of age, and haa been on the stage upwards 
 of thirtv years. Like Warren, he is tlio aon of a 
 great llingliBh actor, Junius Brutus Booth, wlio 
 camo to this country in 1821. Edwin was born in 
 the homestead of Inn lather's farm near Balti- 
 more, tho seventh of ten children, in November, 
 1833. He was associated witli hia father in tlii' 
 vicissitudes of his career from being a nitre 
 child. His first appearance was made Septem- 
 ber 10, 1849, at tho Boston Museum, as Tressil in 
 Cibbor'a version of " Richard III." Ho visited 
 California in 1852 with his father, who left him 
 there, and during tho next four years lie roughed 
 It in that new country, Australia and the Sand- 
 wich Inlands. The elder Booth died soon after 
 he returned East from California. Edwin came 
 home ID the fall of 1856, and began a brilliant 
 engagement in Baltimore. From thence he 
 made a tour of tho South, and became well- 
 known in tho principal cities of tho United 
 Statea by tho year 1860, when he sailed for Eng- 
 land. Before his return in 1862 he had played 
 in London, Liverpool and Manchester. From 
 September 21, 1863, to March 23, 1867, when it 
 was burned down, no managed the Winter Gar- 
 den Theatre, New York City, where he produced 
 splendid revivals of Btandard plays. Booth's 
 Theatre was opened February 3, 1869. In tho 
 spring of 1874 it passed Into other hands, after 
 Booth had spent a million dollars on it. His 
 tour in the South, in 1876, was a succession of 
 triumphs. He is received with enthusiasm 
 everywhere in the United States, for example, 
 thirty-six thousand dollars were taken dunng an 
 eight weeks' engagement at San Francisco. In 
 1880 he made nis second professional visit to 
 England, where his acting made a great impres- 
 sion. Mr. Booth's first wife died young, his 
 brother was the assaaain of Abraham Lincoln, 
 and Booth'a Theatre awallowed up the accumu- 
 lation of his early manhood. He works witli 
 conscientious diligence against all^bstacles, and ' 
 is the most popular actor in the country. His 
 Hamlet and lago are perhaps his best persona- 
 tions of a number comprising the moat important 
 and difficult parts assumed by the actor. 
 
 LE3TEB WALIACK. 
 
 John Lester Wallack was bom in New Y'ork 
 City, in the year 1819. His father was an Eng- 
 lishman named James William Wallack. He be- 
 gan his acquaintance with the stage while very 
 
 young, and soon became a popular actor, the 
 more rapidly as he was favored with a most at- 
 tractive appearance. While on a visit to Eng- 
 land he married a daughter of Millais, the 
 Eainter. At the outbreak of the Crimean war, 
 e purchased a commission in the English army, 
 which he sold after three days' experience in 
 actual campaigning. He then resumed his pro- 
 fession as an actor, in which he displayed re- 
 markable ability in romantic parts. Upon the 
 decease of his father, who was a manager in 
 New Y'ork, he assumed the management of Wal- 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 lack's Theatre, at the corner of Thirteenth Street 
 and Broadway. After nearly twenty years there 
 he removed up-town, and is now the fortunate 
 proprietor of the beautiful house at the corner of 
 Thirtieth Street and Broadway, in which, by an 
 arrangement between Mr. Walfack and a brother 
 manager, Mr. Abbey, Mrs. Langtry made her 
 first appearance before the American public. 
 WallacK 8, as his theatre is popularly known, 
 may be regarded, perhaps, as the headquarters 
 of first-class comedy. The company comprises 
 only Buch persons as rank among the foremost 
 
 GEOUGE WTLLXAil CUBT13. 
 
 in their profession. Mr. Wallack makes occa- 
 sional appearances in his theatre and elsewhere, 
 and always coiiiiuanda the attendance of an ap- 
 preciative assembly. He is a gentleman of cul- 
 ture and considerable wealth, whose reputation 
 as a manager is unexcelled fur liberality and the 
 ability of the many actors and actresses ho has 
 succeeded in engaging. 
 
 HOBACE B. CLAFI-IN. 
 
 The statement is hardly, if at all, questiona- 
 ble that Horace B. Clafiiu is the head of the 
 largest exclusively wholesale dry goods business 
 in tlie United States. Ho was born at MiUord, 
 Massacbusetts, in the year 1812, the son of a 
 leading merchant id that place and one of the 
 principal men in the local Presbyterian church. 
 The Cladins are descended from a Puritan ances- 
 try who came to the United States at an early 
 date after the settlement of New England. Hor- 
 ace was educated in the school of his native 
 town and early initiated iuto business at his 
 father's store, where the stock of goods on sale 
 was oveu of a more iniscellaneous character than 
 is now common in such places. Having attained 
 his majority ho associated himself with Sanuu'l 
 Daniels in "the purchase of his father's business. 
 The partners had hardly began business when 
 they decided to discontinue the sale of alcoholic 
 liquors, and closed out their stock of the same 
 by pouring it into the street. Contrary to his 
 father's opinion as to what would be the effect of 
 this radical proceeding, young Claflin and his 
 partner prospered during the two years thcv 
 wore together at Milford. After this time they 
 removed to Worcester in the same State, and 
 opened a business there, which during the ten 
 years that Mr. Claflin's interest was continued 
 in it, became one of the leading houses in New 
 England. Messrs. Hardin and Hunt were part- 
 ners with Mr. Claflin in the latter part of his time 
 at Worcester (Mr. Daniels had retired), and 
 when he determined upon removing to New York, 
 bought his interest. 
 
 Mr. Claflin began his career in New York with 
 a capital of thirty thousand dollars. In July, 
 18-13, he and William H. Buckley opened 'a 
 wholesale dry-goods store in Cedar Street, where, 
 during the first year, tliev did a business of a 
 mtarter of a million. By' 1849 it bad grown to 
 tnreo times that magnitude, and the firm re- 
 moved into larger quarters next year. Mr. 
 BuckJey retired in 1851, and a new partnership 
 was formed, with Mr. Claflin as its head. In 
 1853 a removal was made to the Triuitv Building 
 
 built by the firm iu the neighborhood of Trinity 
 Church, with the expectation that it would prove 
 large enough. This proved a mistake, however, 
 and in 1861 the premises now occupied by H. B. 
 Claflin & Co. were opened by them. The firm, 
 by the way, had been changed as to its style and 
 luembership shortly before this time. Their 
 principal building stands on a site measuring 
 three liundred and seventy-five feet on Worth 
 Street, eighty on Church and the same length on 
 West Broadway. The adjacent lot, also occupied 
 by a building, is one hundred feet long and 
 eighty feet iu width. Both buildings are seven 
 stories in height, including basements and sub- 
 cellars. About a thousand persons are em- 
 ployed in this gigantic establishment, which con- 
 tains every faciUty for the display of goods and 
 the transaction of business. Large salaries are 
 paid responsible men, and an ambitious, capable 
 young fellow is sure of encouragement if so for- 
 tunate as to obtain employment at H. B. Claflin 
 & Co's. As long ago as 1866 the sales of the 
 house were seventy-two million dollars a year. 
 Mr. Claflin has proved himself a master-spirit in 
 commerce. In time of depression and panic as 
 well as of the greatest prosperity, he has shown 
 himself to be self-possessed and full of resources. 
 His business honor is as widely known as his gi- 
 gantic enterprises reach. He is a kindly, genial 
 old man, never happier than with his family and 
 frieuds, a gentleman and pliilanthropist. 
 
 BOBACE K. THUBBEB. 
 
 Horace K. Thurber was boru fifty-three years 
 ago at Delhi, Delaware County, New York State. 
 lie received a fair education, and began busi- 
 ness life as clerk in a bauk where, among otlier 
 things, be learned to be a neat and beautiful 
 penman. Wlieu ago and the condition of his 
 purse made the experiment desirable, he opened 
 a small store at a place on the Erie Railroad 
 called Addison. This was but a trifling occu- 
 pation for a young fellow cherishing sucu great 
 mercantile aspirations as he. Accordingly he 
 sold out and went to New York City, where he 
 acted as a clerk for a time with a merchant 
 named Henry Harms. Charles Pratt, of illum- 
 inating oil notoriety, was a fellow-clerk with him 
 in Mr. Harms's establishment, and the two made 
 an arrangement that the one who made ten thou- 
 sand dollars the first should give the other a 
 Mexican silver dollar. Pratt won the wager, but 
 afterwards received assistance in working out 
 his colossal projects from his quondam associate. 
 During his clerkship with Mr. Harms, Mr. Thur- 
 ber became acquainted with a shrewd Qermau 
 
 EDWIN T300m. 
 
 named Pupke, from which resulted an intimacy 
 and the formation of the 3rm of PupUe & Thur- 
 ber, who did business at the corner of Chambers 
 and Greenwich Streets. The partners worked 
 hard night and day, and made money after the 
 first year; and that one year is the only one, by 
 the way, in .Mr. Thnrber's experience as a busi- 
 iioss man, in which he has not made money. 
 Between fifteen and sixteen years ago, Mr. Fran- 
 cis B. Thurber, his brother, became associated 
 with him in business. The partnership of H. K. 
 and F. B. Thurber & Co. coiiBists, at the present 
 
 time, of the brothers and ten junior partners. 
 Their business is the largest of the kind in the 
 United States, and one of the largest m the world. 
 An idea of its vastness may be gathered from a 
 brief description of the premises occupied. 
 
 Within massive brick walls of five stories high, 
 above cellar and eub-cellars, are housed the 
 delicacies of every clime. This building adjoins 
 the bonded warehouse. The coffee warehouse 
 adjoins it in turn. Here from fifteen to twenty 
 thousand pounds of coffee are roasted per day 
 and packed for abipment. Passing tbroagh a 
 
 LESTER WALLACE. 
 
 narrow passage, a structure seven stories high 
 and covering a plot measuring seventy-five feet 
 by a hundred feet is reached. This contains tin 
 spice factory, and, among other things, tl.c 
 printing establishment, with something like sev- 
 enty-five thousand dollars' worth of labels ready 
 for use. The fruit preserving and fariuactouK 
 food departments are aluo in this building, giving 
 employment to hundreds of women. A high wall 
 separates the last building described into two 
 
 garts, so that those already mentioned make four 
 uildings distinct and separate from the main 
 warehouse, which is only a few blocks distant, 
 and the headquarters of the firm situated in an- 
 other part of the city. This is built of brick, and 
 covers a block. It uas six stories with cellar and 
 sub-cellar. Merchants from all parts of the 
 United States buy here, as busv a place as there 
 is to be seen in New York. Besides these, the 
 Thurbers have their own houses in London and 
 Bordeaux, and are represented in every market 
 in the world either buying for the house or sell- 
 ing the American food products prepared by 
 them. At Moorestown, New Jersey, is their 
 canned goods factory, which covers four acres of 
 ground, where four uundred people are em- 
 ployed and aided in tlieir work with the newest 
 and best mechanical appliances. In the summer 
 about a million and a quarter cans of tomatoes 
 are packed, and large quantities of com, peachca 
 peas, beans, asparagus, pineapples, pears ant 
 plums. Meats, poultry, mincemeat, plum-pud 
 ding, apples, etc., are packed later in tlie season 
 The warehouse adjoins the railroad. It has ca 
 pacity for three million, six hundred thousano 
 cans.' 
 
 THE LATE A. T. STEWABT. 
 
 In the year 1819, a European vessel anchored 
 in the harbor of New York, after a long and 
 weary voyage from the old world. She brought 
 many passengers to the young metropolis, most 
 of whom came with the intention of seeking their 
 fortunes in this land of promise. 
 
 Among them was a young Irishman, who had 
 left his humble home in his native county of Ty- 
 rone, m Ireland, to seek in .\merica the means 
 of bettering his cor.dition. He was m his twenty- 
 fourth year, having been born in 1795, and was 
 posecssf-d of a good education, backed by sound 
 liealth and an indomitable deterininaiion to suc- 
 cee 
 Ian 
 
 d. He was poor, however, and when ho 
 
 ded iu New York he was without friends. 
 
 He had been educated with a view to entering 
 
 the ministry, and his first effort after reaching 
 
 New York wifffto procure a school. He was sue- 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 o9 
 
 ceaBful to a certain extont, and for nearly throe 
 vears taught a amall unmbor of pupila at No. S'J 
 Itoso Street. 
 
 ' School-teaching, however, did not BUit him, 
 though ho managed to gave some money from 
 the procoedd of hia lal)or8. A relative in Kiiroiu) 
 dietl about tliiH time and left him a small legacy, 
 with which ho determint'd to enter into buainoaH 
 for himself, and m 182'2, aoou after the terrible 
 epidemic of yellow fever that year, ho eatablished 
 himaolf anaVetaildry goods merchant in a frame 
 building on Broadway, just opposite whore hia 
 former wholoaalo house atanda. Hia entire cash 
 capital was between twelve and liftcon hundred 
 dollars, and tlie prospect before him waa not in- 
 viting. Hia store waa small, being (mly twenty- 
 two feet wide by twenty deep, and was aituated 
 next door to the then famous Bonafanli, who 
 kept the most popular and boat-known variety 
 store of the day. 
 
 About this time Mr. Stewart married Miaa Cor- 
 nelia Clinch, an estimable ladv of New York, who 
 ia etill living, and who proved a noble helpmate 
 to him m his early atrugglea. The young couple 
 lived in one email room over the store, and the 
 wife took care of the domestic arrangemoute 
 while the husband attended to his businoaa be- 
 low. 
 
 Without mercantile experience, and posseaaing 
 no advantage but his own unaided determination 
 to succeed, Mr. Stewart atarted boldlv on what 
 proved to bo the road to fortune. No young 
 merchant ever worked harder than ho. From 
 fourteen to eighteen houra each day were given 
 to his bnaiueas. He was hia own bookkeeper, 
 salesman, and porter. Ho could not afl'ord to 
 employ any help. Credit waa hard to obtain in 
 those daya, and young merchants were not 
 favorites with those who had such favors to be- 
 stow, and Mr. Stewart was one of the least 
 favored, inasmuch as he was almost a total 
 stranger to the buaincsa community in which he 
 lived. He kept a small atock of goods on hand, 
 which he purchased for cash chiefly at the 
 auction sales. Ho was a regular attendant at 
 these sales, and his purchases were invaiiablv 
 "aample lots "—that is, collections of smafl 
 quantities of various articles thrown together in 
 confusiou, and sold in heaps for what they would 
 bring. He had these puicuases conveyed to his 
 store, and after the bnaiueas of the day was over 
 be and his wife would take tlic.><e " sample lots," 
 and by carefully assorting them bring order out 
 of the" confusion. Every article was patiently 
 gone over. Gloves were redressed and smoothed 
 out, laces pressed free from the creases which 
 careless bidders had twisted into them, and hose 
 made to look as fresh as if they had never been 
 
 HORACE B. ChiFLDI. 
 
 handled. Each article, being good in itself, was 
 thus restored to its original excellence. The 
 goods were then arranged in their proper 
 placea on the shelves of the store, and by be- 
 ing offered at a lower price than that charged 
 by retail dealers elsewhere in the city, met with 
 a ready sale. Even at this low price the profit 
 waa great, since they had been purchased for a 
 mere trifle. For six years Mr. Stewart con- 
 tinued to conduct his IJuainess in this wav, ac- 
 quiring e'e- day a larger and more pro^table 
 .trade. 
 
 It ia aaid that when he entered upon hia buai- 
 iiess he knew so little of the details of it that he 
 was Bumetimes sorely ciubarrusaed bv occur- 
 rences insignificaut in theniaelvea. l/poii one 
 occasion he i« said to have accosted the late 
 William Bonchor (from whom he bought many 
 goods), as follows: " .'^Ir. Boocher, a lady came 
 into my store to-day and asked me to show hor 
 aoiiie hose. I did not know what the goods were, 
 and told her 1 did not keep the article. What 
 did she want?" Mr. Beecner quietly held up 
 a pair of stockings before Inm, and Stewart, 
 
 HORACE K. TIIURIIEK. 
 
 bursting into a laugh at bis own simplicity, 
 went back to his atorc a wiser man. 
 
 While still engaged in hm first struggles in his 
 little store, Mr. Stewart found himself called 
 on to make arrangements to pay a note which 
 would soon become due. It was for a consid- 
 erable sum, and he had neither the money nor 
 the means of borrowing it. It was a time when 
 the mercantile community of New York regarded 
 a failure to pay a note as a crime, and when 
 such a failure was sure to bring ri\in to a new 
 man. Mr. Stewart kpew this, and 'felt that he 
 must act with greater reaolution and daring than 
 he had ever before exhibited, if he would save 
 himself from dishonor. To meet the crisis be 
 adopted a bold and skillful manoeuvre. He 
 marlied down every article in his store far below 
 the wholesale price. This done, he had a num- 
 ber of handbUls printed, announcing that he 
 would sell off his entire stock of goodj below 
 cost, within a given time. He scattered those 
 bills broadcast through the city, and it was not 
 long before purchasers began to flock to his store 
 to secure the great bargains which his advertise- 
 ments offered thcin. His terms were "cash," 
 and he had little difficulty in selling. Pur- 
 chasers found that they thus secured the best 
 goods in the market at a lower figure than they 
 had ever been offered before in New York, anS 
 each one was prompt to advise relatives and 
 friends to avail themselves of the favorable op- 
 portunity. Customers were plentiful, the little 
 Broadway store was throngeci all day, and long 
 before the expiration of the period he had fixed 
 for the duration of his sales Mr. Stewart found 
 his shelves empty and his treasury full. He 
 paid his note with a part of the money he had 
 thus received, and with the rest laid in a freah 
 stock of goods. He was fortunate in his pur- 
 chases at this time, for, as the market waa ex- 
 tremely dull and ready money scarce, he, by 
 paving cash, bought his goods at very low pncea. 
 
 The energy, industry, patience, and business 
 tact displaye'd by Mr. Stewart these first years 
 of his commercial life brought him their" sure 
 reward, and in 1828, just six years after com- 
 mencing business, he found bis little store too 
 small and humble for the large and fashionable 
 trade which had come to him. Three new stores 
 had just been erected on Broadway, between 
 Chambers and Warren Streets, and be leased 
 the smallest of these, and moved into it. It 
 waa a modest building, only three stories high 
 and thirty feet deep, but it was a great im- 
 provement ou bis original place. He was en- 
 a.bled to fill it with a larger and more attrac- 
 tive stock of goods, and his business was greatly 
 benefited by the change. Hf remainer", in this 
 
 store for four years, and in 1832 removed In ti 
 two-atory building, located on Broadway be- 
 tween Murrav and Warren Slreeta. Soon ufier 
 occupying it iie was compelled, by the growth of 
 his busiuesa, to add twenty feet to iho dciiih o( 
 the store, and to add a third atory to thf build- 
 ing. A year or two later a fourth story waa 
 added, and in 1837 a fifth story, ao rapidly did 
 he proaper. 
 
 Ilia trade waa now with the wealthy and fash- 
 ionable class of thn city, and he had siiriiuiuiited 
 all hia early difliciilties and laid the foundations 
 of that splendid fortune which ho afterward won. 
 The majority of his cuatomora wore ladiea, and 
 ho now resolved upon an expedient for increas- 
 ing their number. Ho had noticed that ladies 
 in " ahoppiii" " were much given to the habit of 
 gossiping and even flirting with the clerks, and he 
 adopted the expedient of employing as hia aales- 
 inen the handaomcat men ho could procure a 
 practice which liaa since become conituon. The 
 plan was Bucceaaful from the firal. Women 
 came to hia atore in greater nnmbcrathaii before, 
 and "Stewart's nice young men " were tlio talk 
 of the town. 
 
 The great crisis of 1837 found Mr. Stewart a 
 prosperous and rising man, and that terrible 
 financial storm which wrecked so many of the 
 best of the city firms did not ao much as leave 
 its mark ou him. Indeed, while all other men 
 were failing all around liim. he was coining 
 money. It iiad always been his habit to watcli 
 the market closely, in order to profit by any sud- 
 den change in it, and his keen sagacity enabled 
 him to see the approach of the storm long before 
 It burst, and to prepare for it. He at once 
 marked down all his goods as low as jiossible, 
 and began to " sell for cost," originating the sys- 
 tem which is now so popular. The prices wire 
 very low, and the goods of the best quality. 
 Everybody complained of the hard times, and all 
 were glad to aavo money l>v availing themselves 
 of " Stewart's bargains." in this way he carried 
 on a retail cash trade of five thousand dollars 
 per day in the midst of the most terrible cnsia 
 the country had ever aeon. Other merchants 
 were reduced to every possible expedient, and 
 were compelled to send their goods to auction 
 to be sold for what thoy would bring, so groat 
 was their need for ready money. Stewart at- 
 tended all these auction's regularly, and pur- 
 chased the goods thus offered. These he sohl 
 rapidly, by means ol his " cost systoni," realizing 
 an average of forty per cent. It is said tliat he 
 purchased fifty thousand dollars' worth ot silks 
 in this way, and sold the whole lot in a few days, 
 making a profit of twenty thousand dollars on 
 the transaction. In this way he not only passed 
 
 THE LATE A. T. 8TEWAET. 
 
 through the " crisis," but made a fortune in the 
 midst of it. 
 
 From that time his course was " onward and 
 upward " to fortune. More than a quarter of a 
 century ago he purchaaed the property which is 
 now the site of his wholesale store, and com- 
 menced to erect the splendid marble warehouse 
 which now bears hia name. His frienda were 
 surprised at hia temerity. They told hini it waa 
 too far up-town, and on "the wroiigside of Broad- 
 way; but he quietly informed them that a few 
 rears would vindicate h^•* wisdom and cop his 
 
60 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 fttore the center of the most flourishing buBiness 
 neighborhood of New York. His predictions 
 have been more than realized. Ne moved into 
 hie new store in 1848, and continued to expand 
 and enlarge his busiuess every year. Some 
 years ago he pHrcha«ed the old Ninth Street 
 Dutch Church and the lots adjacent to it, com- 
 prising the entire block lying between Ninth and 
 Tenth Streets, Broadway and Fourth Avenue. 
 When he found the retail trade going up-town, 
 and deserting its old haunts below Canal Street, 
 [he erected a liue iron building at the corner of 
 
 HENBT BEBOH. 
 
 Jtroadway and Tenth Street, to which he removed 
 the retail department of his business, continuing 
 his wholesale trade at his old store on Chambers 
 Street. This new " upper store " has increased 
 with the business, and now covers the entire 
 block upon which it is erected, and is the largest, 
 most complete, and magnificent establishment 
 of its kuid in the world. 
 
 Though ho took no active part in politics, he 
 was too much interested in public affairs, by 
 reason of hisimmeuso wealth, not to watch them 
 closely. He was sati!<ficd, sometime before hos- 
 tilities" began during tho ribellion, that war must 
 como, ana quietly set to work and made con- 
 tracts with nearly all the manufacturers for all 
 their productions for a considerable period of 
 time. Accordingly, when the war dia come, it 
 was found that nearly all the articles ot clothing, 
 blankcta, etc., needed for the army had been 
 monopolized by hini, because the same goods 
 could not bo purchased elsewhere. His profits 
 on these transactions amounted to many millions 
 of dollars, though it should bo remarked that his 
 dealings with the government were characterized 
 by an unusual degree of liberality. The gains 
 thus realized by him more than counterbalanced 
 his losses by the sudden cessation of his South- 
 ern trade. 
 
 Mr. Stewart won all his great wealtli fairlv — 
 not by trickery, deceit, or even by a questionable 
 honesty, but Dy a series of mercantile trans- 
 actions, the minutest of which is open to the 
 most rigid scrutinv, and by a uatienco, energy, 
 tact, industry, and genius of which few men are 
 possessed. 
 
 Up to the time of his last illness he was one of 
 the iiardest workers in his establishment. He 
 had partners to assist him in carrying on his im- 
 mense business, but they were merely head 
 clerks in the various depardncnta and divided 
 only the profits with him. Ho assumed the en- 
 tire" responsibility, and managed the entire trade 
 of his firm, his partners acting merely as he 
 directed. 
 
 He went to his business between nine and ten 
 o'clock in the morning, stopping first at his 
 upper store. He made a brief out thorough in- 
 spection of this establishment, ascertaining its 
 wants, and satisfying hiniself that all was going 
 on properly, anil then repaired to his lower 
 store, where ho remained until business hours 
 were over, and returned home between five and 
 •IX o'clock in the afternoon. Ho worked hard, 
 
 and was never absent from his post, unless de- 
 tained by sickness. 
 
 His time was valuable, and he was not willing 
 to waste it; therefore, access to him was difficult. 
 Ulany persons endeavored to see him merely to 
 gratiify their impertinent curiosity, and others 
 wished to intrude upon him for purposes which 
 simply consumed his time. To protect himself 
 he was compelled to resort to the following ex- 
 pedient: A gentleman was kept on guard near 
 the main door of the store, whose duty it was to 
 inquire the busmess of visitors. If the visitor 
 urged that his business was private, he was told 
 that Mr. Stewart had no private business. If he 
 stated his business to the satisfaction of the 
 "sentinel," he was allowed to go up-stairs, where 
 he was met by the confidential agent of the great 
 merchant, to whom he must repeat the object of 
 his visit. If this gentleman was satisfied, or 
 could not get rid of the visitor, he entered the 
 private office of his employer and laid the case 
 before him. If the business of the visitor was 
 urgent he was admitted; otherwise an interview 
 was refused him. If admitted the interview was 
 brief and to the point. There was no time to be 
 lost. Matters were dispatched with a method 
 and promptitude which astonished strangers. II 
 the visitor attempted to draw the merchant into 
 a friendly conversation, or indulged in useless 
 complimentary phrases, after the business on 
 which he had come was arranged, Mr. Stewart's 
 manner instantly became cold and repelling, 
 and troublesome persons were not unfrequently 
 given a hint to leave the room. This was his 
 working-time and it was precious to hiti. Mr. 
 Stewart was of the medium height, thin, had 
 siiiidy hair, sharp, well-cut features, a clear, 
 1 'light eye, and a calm, thoughtful face. His 
 niaiiuer was rescrvi-d, not to say cold. He 
 dressed with scrupulous neatness, and in the 
 style of the day. Ho died in the year 1879, at 
 the age of eighty-three. 
 
 HENRY BEBGH. 
 
 Henry Bergh's everyday life during nearly 
 twenty years, has been an expression of eympa- 
 thv with "our poor earthborn companions and 
 feflow-mortals, the dumb creatures. 
 
 He was boru in New York City, in the year 
 1823. His father was a wealthy man, the lead- 
 ing American shipbuilder of his time. He was 
 a native of the Empire Slate, and a long-time 
 
 AKTHONX OOUSTOOK. 
 
 resident of New York City, which deeply mourned 
 his loss when, at the age of eighty-three, he 
 departed this life. Mr. Bergh's grandfather was 
 a native of Germany. His mother's maiden 
 name was Elizabeth Ivers. She was the daugh- 
 ter of a Connecticut family distinguished for ita 
 excellent qualities. Blessed with a superior 
 parentage possessing ample means, Mr. Bergh 
 received a superior education, but did not com- 
 plete the course at Columbia College. He mar- 
 ried wliile young a Miss Taylor, daughter of 
 Engli"''' parents. In 1862 he was appointed 
 
 Secretary of Legation at St. Petersburg, and be- 
 gan there that active interference in behalf of 
 the right of animals to kind treatment, which 
 has given him a reputation wide as civilization. 
 Of course, his services to abused animals in the 
 Bussian capital were entirely unofficial, but they 
 were effective, thanks to the" distinguished char- 
 acter of his equipage and the fine livery of his 
 coachman. Mr. Bergh resigned his position on 
 account of ill-health. On his way home he in- 
 dulged in the luxury of leisurelv "travel and be- 
 came acquainted with the Ear! of Harrowby, 
 President of the Boyal Society for the Prevention 
 of Cruelty to Animals, Loudon. The society of 
 which Mr. Bergh was the founder, is modeled 
 largely after the English one presided over by 
 this nobleman until his death. He returned to 
 New York in 1864, and spent a> year in mafiring 
 
 THOMAS .\. EDISON. 
 
 his plans for the establishmentof means to check 
 and prevent cruelty to animals. The American 
 Society for the Prevention ot Cruelty to Animals 
 was instituted in 1865. In 1866, it was given by 
 statute the powers ot prosecution and even ar- 
 rest, which it still possesses. Mr. Bergh has 
 been its president since its inception, and its 
 invaluable services to beast, and man as well — 
 for men are made better by being taught the 
 
 f)ractice of humanity toward dumb creatures, are 
 argely due to his resolution, the moral elevation 
 of his character, his tact, unflinching courage 
 and unconquerable perseverance. He stands 
 six feet higu, and his appearance and carriage 
 denote a power of will which readily commands 
 respect. But his appeal to the moral sense and 
 his disinterestedness are the principal elements 
 of his Buccess. He receives no salary for his 
 work, freclv gives his time and energies to it, 
 and the public know this to be the case and re- 
 spect and honor the man who makes the nacri- 
 fice. The statute of 1866 constitutes Mr. Beiph 
 an assistant district attorney in New York City 
 and assistant of the attorney "general of the State, 
 in the enforcement of the laws against cruelty to 
 animals. He is a member of the Bar, and effec- 
 tive in the court-room, as well as in interferences 
 in behalf of animals in the public streets and 
 elsewhere, and on the public platform as a lec- 
 turer enforcing the wisdom and duty of humane 
 feeling and action. 
 
 The New York society has 325 workers in the 
 State. Thirtv-six States in tbe Union have 
 founded simifar organizations, and Mr. Bergh's 
 correspondenco contains many applications fiom 
 foreign lands for information as to liis methods 
 and the laws under which he works. During 
 the first year of its existence as an ageucv en- 
 forcing that law of the State which induced a 
 principle new in American jurisprudence, name- 
 ly, that men's ownership of interior creatures is 
 limited by the claims of an enlightened human- 
 ity, the American Society for the Prevention of 
 Crueltv to Animals prosecuted 101 persons; in 
 1881, 855, and the total number of prosecutions 
 up to the end of last year was 9,121. The total 
 number of disabled "animals suspended from 
 work m the cities of New York and Brooklyn, 
 from 1861 to 1881, was 21,291. No arrests were 
 made in these cases, but the drivers or owners 
 were warned and advised. A total of nearly two 
 thousand animals was destroyed by agents of the 
 Bocietv, in 1S81. ?Ir. Bergh's society owns three 
 
THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 61 
 
 auibiilancoB fur the removal of dmablod auimalH 
 from tlio street, and a derrick to rescue them 
 from excavatious iuto which they might fall. 
 The Royal Society, London, has no appliauccH 
 (ff this nature, aucl the presumption ia that the 
 large nunibtrof poor horaoH, etc., whicli, become 
 disabled in the streets of that great city, lie there 
 to du) nrirogardod. Dog-flghting men, rat-baiters 
 and cook-lighters, as a matter of course, regard 
 Mr. Borgh as an enemy, but their opposition, 
 brutal atid bold, is of less ininortanco than the 
 indifl'oreuco to the objects of his society, con- 
 tempt, or half-avowed opposition of people who 
 consiiler themselves cultured, and of newspapers 
 which boast of their adaptation to family reading 
 and yet contain demoralizing acccmnts of bloody 
 dogRghts. The discussion as to the propriety 
 of vivisection is still open, but it may be well to 
 recall Iho fact that Majendie, the iissector of 
 forty thousand unfortunate living creatures, de- 
 clared vivisection to bo a failure. Pigeon shoot- 
 ing, a form of sport affected by the wealthy and 
 influential, Mr. Borgli lias not been able to stop. 
 Dog fighting as provided and exhibited ou Long 
 Island, thanks to the vigilance of his officers, 
 may now bo regarded as a thing of the past. 
 About three years ago the attempt was made to 
 institute the sport of bull-fighting in New York 
 City. Men had arrived from Spain for this pur- 
 pose, an arena had been built and performances 
 were announced, when Mr. Bergli with some 
 fifty policemen put an end to the enterprise, 
 with groat loss to its jiromoters. There is no 
 possibility of such an experiment being tried 
 again in I^ow Yoi k. Tho income of the society in 
 1881 was $25,480.2.5, and the balance in its favor 
 at tho end of tho year $1,8G4.72. It has been as- 
 sisted powerfully by bequests, especially that of 
 Loais Bonard, of $150,000, contested by relatives 
 but confirmed the property of the society, by 
 judicial decision. "Our Animal Friends" is 
 the name of a pictorial monthly magazine pub- 
 lished under the auspices of the society, and 
 which has a large uumbor of readers. 
 
 The value of Mr. Bergh's work is incalculable. 
 From tho standpoint of mere economy, kindness 
 to animals is cheaper than cruelty and far more 
 productive, as many men who have come under 
 the influence of Mr. Bergh'a persuasion, though 
 once they opposed it, now admit. To increase 
 tho happiness of tho animals dependent upon us 
 and to avoid crueltj' toward all creatures pos- 
 sessed of oonscious life, is a gratification of a 
 high order, and a means to moral improvement 
 of great importance, as the experience of all per- 
 sons thus actuated confirms. Brutality and 
 cruelty are checked and punished by the means 
 enforced by Mr. Bergh, and young people ob- 
 serve and take warning. Inshort, moral pro- 
 gress and therefore happiness are directly as- 
 sisted by the work done ny him and those every- 
 where who employ themselves in the same hu- 
 mane manner. 
 
 AlfTHONY COIISTOCK. 
 
 The pioneer Society for tho Suppression of 
 Vice was that of London, instituted in 1802. It 
 was not until May 16, 1873, that the act incor- 
 porating the New York Society for the Suppres- 
 sion of Vice was passed by the Legislature of 
 tho State. The Society's plan is thus stated: 
 1. Obtain information that a crime is being com- 
 mitted. 2. Legal evidence of that crime. 3. A 
 warrant in due form of law. i. That warrant 
 executed, and no notice sent to the criminal to 
 enable him to escape. 5. A trial according to 
 law. 6. A sentence that shall be commensurate 
 with the crime. The work of the Society is di- 
 vided into two parts, that for the suppression of 
 obscene literature and pictures, and that for the 
 suppression of lottery and policy gambhng. 
 Other American societies of a kindred sort are 
 The New England Society for the Suppression 
 of Vice, estiiblished four years ago, with its head- 
 quarters in Boston; and The Western Society for 
 tho Suppression of Vice, which has its head- 
 quarters in Cincinnati, with branches in Cleve- 
 land, Detroit, Louisville, Chicago, St. Louis, 
 Peoria, Rock Island, Keokuk and Toledo. 
 
 At the head and front of the movement as an 
 effective worker, " a terror to evil-doers," is An- 
 thony Comstock. He was born at New Canaan, 
 Conn., March 7, 1814, the son of Thomas A. Coin- 
 stock. His mother died when he was ten years 
 of age. After receiving the rudiments ot educa- 
 tion he was placed at the high school. New 
 Britain, Conn., but was removed after one year's 
 attendance under the pressure of financial neces- 
 sity. His first position in business was as clerk 
 in a grocery store at Winmpauk, Conn., which 
 ho entered upon in 1861. He remained there 
 two years, and then enhsted in the Seventeenth 
 Rogiment of Connecticnt Infantrv. Two vears a 
 
 soldier, ho was mustered out with his regiment, 
 and again took a position as a grocer's clerk. 
 After a short time, he went to Lookout Mountain 
 to assist in superintending the repair of tho build- 
 ings of tho Lookout Mountain Educational Insti- 
 tute. Illness compelled his return to Connecti- 
 cut. Upon his recovery ho made his way to New 
 York City with a borrowed capital of five dollars. 
 There he found employment as a porter in a 
 commission house, and while holding the second 
 of two other Hul)ordinato positions began his 
 work in tho suppression of licentious literature, 
 at first without aid and with very limited means 
 of carrying on his work. His first arrests were 
 made in March, 1872. 3Ir. Morris K. Jessup 
 came to his aid with a contribution towards the 
 work ot six hundred dollars, by the help of which 
 he was enabled to seize forty thousand dollars' 
 worth of obscene plates and nooks. The Young 
 Men's Christian Association then came to his as- 
 sistance, and the society of which he is now sec- 
 retary was organized and incorporated. Mr. 
 Comstock is a plucky and vigorous man, and the 
 most serious result of several brutal attacks 
 upon him so far, has been the laying open his 
 check with a bowie knife. Ho has been threat- 
 ened witli death many times, but pursues his 
 useful course with remarkable courage and per- 
 sistency. One secret of his strength is suggested 
 iu the gratitude ho has expressed for the gift of 
 a sixteen-shooter Winchester repeatiug-rifle, 
 presented to him in March, 1882, uy Mr. Con- 
 verse, President of the Winchester Repeating- 
 Arnis Company. Mr. Comstock and the society 
 ho represents are tho victims of frequent slan- 
 ders. Ono of the most damaging statements 
 made against him has been that he opens letters 
 in transit in the Post Office. Speaking on this 
 matter at the last annual meeting of the New 
 York Society, tho Hon. Thomas L. James, ox- 
 Postmaster General, said: 
 
 " I am informed that there is a wide-spread 
 belief that Mr. Comstock opens letters in transit 
 in the Post Office. The idea is simply absurd. 
 No letter is tampered with in the Post Office, 
 and it is duo Mr. Comstock to say that ho never 
 attempted to tamper with a letter." 
 
 The income of the New York Society is not 
 much above eight thousand dollars a year, and 
 the wonder is that it accomplishes so much good 
 work. Eightj'-seven persons were arrested by 
 its means from January 1st to August 1st of 1882, 
 as offenders against the laws for tho suppression 
 of obscene matter, policy-gambling, lotteries, 
 etc. In the last report, we find that a total of 
 five hundred and eighty-two persons had been 
 arrested up to tiie time of its preparation. The 
 books and sheet stock alone, which had been 
 seized weighed 27,584 lbs. As many as 203,328 
 obscene pictures and photographs had been 
 seized; 7,400 microscopic pictures of indecent 
 character; 1,700 negative plates for obscene pho- 
 tographs; 64,836 articles for immoral use; 6,122 
 semi-transparent playing cards, and 1,376,939 
 indecent circulars, songs, poems, etc. Tho weight 
 seized of the stereotyps plates for printing licen- 
 tious books had been 14,495 lbs. A total of more 
 than twenty-five tons weight of contraband mat- 
 ter had been seized. Mr. Comstock had traveled, 
 outside of New York City, 173,992 miles m the 
 prosecution of his work. 
 
 One of his most notable accomplishments was 
 on the 9th of October, 1882, when he and about 
 twentj' assistants, who bad all been made deputy 
 sheriffs by Judge Gilbert, of the Supreme Court 
 of New I'ork State, then holding court in Long 
 Island Citv, made a raid on tho pool rooms at 
 Hunter's tomt, seized about twenty-five thou- 
 sand dollars' worth of gambler's articles and ar- 
 rested three of twenty-two persons against whom 
 warrants had been issued. The proceeding had 
 been undertaken by Mr. Comstock at the request 
 of the Law and Order Society of Long Island 
 City. So cleverly had arrangements been made 
 that the necessary evidence, warrants, and 
 search warrants had been procured, Mr. Com- 
 stock and bis men sworn m as deputy sheriffs 
 and the raid actually begun before the offenders 
 against the law realized fully what was being 
 done. In getting to one pool room Mr. Comstock 
 passed through the saloon kept by a local cor- 
 oner, who protested against what he called a 
 trespass and vainly tried to prevent him enter- 
 ing tho premises beyond. Mx. Comstock burst 
 open the door and accomplished his purpose in 
 the seizure of the implements of gambling. Ho 
 was subsequently arrested under a warrant pro- 
 cured from a local justice by the coroner, and 
 notwithstanding that he showed proofs of his au- 
 thority as a deputy sheriff, was ordered to appear 
 for trial the next day. The day after the case 
 was postponed until the following Thursday, 
 when the justice, acting according, to the advice 
 of the district attorney, dismissed it. 
 
 THOMAS A. EDISON. 
 
 Thomas A. Edison, the great inventor, was bora 
 in Milan, Erie County, Ohio, February 11, 1847, 
 so that he is still a young man. Tho number of 
 patents already granted him approaches two 
 hundred. Ho is ot mixed Hollander and En- 
 glish blood, his grandfather having been a Dutch- 
 man who settled near Newark, N. J., and who 
 married into the Ogdons, a lamily of English de- 
 scent. Edison began his working life as a news- 
 boy when only about eight years old, at Port 
 Huron, Mich. Five years afterwarrl he succeed- 
 ed in procuring a contract for the exclusive sale 
 of newspapers on tlio Grand Trunk Railway of 
 Canada, to which fact is duo tho report that he 
 is a Canadian. His liusiuess grew rapidly under 
 his clover and energetic iiianagcmint, and was 
 supplemented by an essay in jounuilism, the 
 Grand Trunk Ilerald, which he printed with his 
 own typo and his own hands. The pro;,'re88 of 
 the war at this time assisted bis paper, >vlilch had 
 at one timo four hundred and lifiy subncribora. 
 Dropping his publication, he began the siudy of 
 chemistry, prosecuting it in coniK-ction with his 
 newspaper Dusiuess. WheiLhis experiments ou 
 the train had resulted in his stttiug lire to a car 
 by the ignition of phosphorus, he was forced to 
 abandon it. Ho next pursued telegraphy as a, 
 means of livelihood, and becanio extraordinarily 
 apt as an operator. In 18(i7, when living in Cin- 
 cmnati, he began experimenliiig with the view to 
 send two messages at once over one wire, and 
 succeeded in doing this in Boston not long after- 
 ward. This was the first of tho many inventions 
 which have oai-ned for him and his country im- 
 mortal honor. His phonograph first attracted 
 tho attention of the leading scientific men of Eu- 
 rope by reason of its exhibition at the French 
 Institute in 1878. No better idea of the multi- 
 plicity and value of his inventions can be given 
 than by mentioning the leading features of his 
 exhibit lu Pans at the Electrical Exhibition, 1881, 
 where his was the largest, most important, and 
 most varied of the many exhibits. It included 
 his system of electric lighting by incandescence, 
 his disc dynamo-electric machine, his microtasi- 
 metor, which measures the smallest changes ia 
 temperature; his odoroscope, which renders 
 visible the presence of certain essential oils and 
 hydrocarbon vapors, and also registers their 
 action; his electromotograph, which reproduces 
 the human voice at a distance, like tho telephone, 
 but with a greater intensity, etc. 
 
 PHDIEAS T. BABNUM. 
 
 The career of the Connecticut showman has 
 been an extraordinary one. Uniting a happy 
 audacity of design with obstinacy in its execu- 
 tion, he'has succeeded in amassing a handsome 
 fortune out of ideas which would be pronounced 
 impracticable by the rest of the world, and has 
 made his name known as far as the language is 
 spoken. Frank in address and courteous in 
 manner, he has deservedly been popular among 
 those who frequent exhibitions, and the curious 
 compound of philanthropic Christianity with the 
 habitual deceit of a caterer to the element ot 
 wonder in mankind which Bamum shows is pe- 
 culiar to himself. 
 
 Phineas Taylor Bamum is the eon of a typical 
 Connecticut Yankee, who, from the predomi- 
 nance of hope over caution displayed in his or- 
 ganization, never succeeded in amassing a for- 
 tune. He was born on the day succeeding the 
 anniversary of independence, in the year 1810. 
 All the education Barnum ever received was ob- 
 tained in the common schools of Connecticut, 
 and it is recorded of him that at twelve years of 
 age he was counted apt and skillful at figures, 
 although it does not seem that on his first visit 
 to New York he had studied the currency tables, 
 as he offered a woman who kept a stall in the 
 streets ten cents for two oranges which she had 
 demanded fourpence each for. She gravely as- 
 sented, leaving tho young orange eater to "sup- 
 pose that he had made two cents by the bargain, 
 whereas, as the Yankee fourpence was six cents, 
 he lost two. Bargaining was, indeed, one of the 
 delighta of youth at that day, and Bamum sold 
 cookies, gingerbread, and cherry-rum to his 
 schoolmates and the neighborhood before he was 
 twelve years of age, and would, undoubtedly, 
 have become a small Crceaus if his father had 
 not kindly permitted him to pay for bis own 
 clothes. 
 
 The first regular business the subject of our 
 sketch was employed in was as a clerk in a coun- 
 try store, which taught him the tendency to de- 
 ceit in the human mind, and led him to keep a 
 sharp look-out for frauds of all kinds. A wagon- 
 load of oats would bo found to be four or five 
 bushels short, fleeces of wool would have stones 
 in them, and bundles of rags would be filled m 
 
62 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 the interior with ashee or gravel. Trials of prac- 
 tical jokes would frequently occur, and the most 
 ordinary exprossion might contain a sell, so that 
 Phineas had his wits fully employed. After be- 
 ing a while m this situation, his father died, and 
 he accepted another place m a store a short dis- 
 tance from homo, where he showed his adminis- 
 trative genius by organizing a lottery where most 
 of the prizes should come from glass and defec- 
 tive and old tinware. The scheme spread like 
 wildfire, and the store succeeded in getting rid 
 of all their unsalable articles. His employer 
 going to Brooklyn, thou only a village, he fol- 
 lowed him, and at the age of seventeen was the 
 buyer for the house in the New York marts. He 
 received nothing but a salary, and, becoming 
 dissatisfied, left, and opened a porter-house, 
 which he soon sold out to good advantage, and 
 then became a clerk to another liquor-dealer— 
 all this, however, without himself drinking. 
 
 In February, 1828, he returned home and 
 opened a fruit and confectionery store on a capi- 
 tal of one hundred and twenty dollars. Fifty 
 were used in fitting up the store, and the re- 
 maining seventy doQars purchased hifl stock in 
 trade. He opened on the first Monday in May, 
 general training day. The village was full of 
 people who had been attracted by the doings, 
 and the shop was full all day long. Sixty-three 
 dollars were the day's receipts, and the stock 
 seemed hardly diminished. Additional pur- 
 chases increased the goods, and in the fall he 
 added stewed oysters to the inducements. Lot- 
 tery tickets were also sold on a commission of 
 ten per cent., and as large numbers of them 
 were then sold everywhere in New England, 
 considerable was made. 
 
 Becoming attracted by a fair young tailoress, 
 named Charity Hallett,'whom he had escorted 
 home one night, he married her at the ago of 
 nineteen, and to keep up his character for en- 
 terprise became an editor when scarce twenty- 
 one. The Herald of Freedom was a success, as 
 far as influence and circulation were concerned, 
 but the luckless editor was three times sued for 
 libel, and once imprisoned for sixty days. Com- 
 fortable provision was made for him in jail; the 
 room was papered and carpeted, ho lived well. 
 Ills Bubscription list rapidly increased, and his 
 leaving was celebrated as a festival by the citi- 
 zens of the town. His crime had been stating 
 that a prominent church member had "been 
 guilty of taking iisnry from an orphan boy," and 
 although the substantial truth of the assertion 
 was acknowledged by all, the old law maxim 
 that the greater the truth the greater the libel 
 was held to be good. The court-roimi in whicli 
 he was convicted was the scene of the celebra- 
 tion. An ode written for the occasion was sung, 
 an oration delivered, and several hundred gen- 
 tlemen partook of a eamptuous dinner, followed 
 by appropriate toasts ana testimonials. A coach 
 drawn by six horses was jirt-ceded by forty horse- 
 men, and was followed by sixty carriages. Can- 
 non were fired and music was played, and it was 
 altogether a groat triumph for Barnum. 
 
 Although he had carried on quite an extensive 
 business, yet there were so many losses by run- 
 ning away, death, failing, ami other similar ways, 
 that whe'u he closed up business in Bethel and 
 removed to Now York, whicli he did in 1834, 
 there was very little for him to live upon, ex- 
 cepting such as might be derived from his agent 
 fi)r collections. In New York he had hoped (o 
 secure some position in a mercantile house, but 
 could not. Tlio Sun, which was then, as now, a 
 great medium fv)r advertising wants, was eager- 
 ly perused each day. There were many chances 
 for going into business, but they were mostly 
 patent lilo-pills or a self-acting mouse-trap. His 
 wife opened a private boarding-house on Frank- 
 fort Street, and Mr. Barnum finally bouglit an 
 interest in a grocery store, and in the summer 
 sucoeeding made hi's first entry as a showman. 
 Joice Heth was the speculation.' Mr. Coley Bar- 
 tram, of Connecticut, informed Barnum tliat he 
 had owned an interest in a remarkable old negro 
 woman, who was ^ne hundred and sixty years 
 old, and had been the nurse of Gen. Washington. 
 At this time (1835) she was on exhibition in 
 Philadelphia, with papers authonticatinij her 
 age and iier membership in the Baptist Church 
 for one hundred and sixteen years. Satisfactory 
 
 Eroof seemed to be oflfered'as to why she had 
 een forgotten bo long. The remaining partner 
 in her proprietorship being willing to sell, Bar- 
 num became the owner. Joice Heth, to use the 
 words of tho exhibitor, was certainly a remark- 
 able curiosity, and she looked as if she might 
 have been far older than her age as advertised. 
 She was apparently in good health and spirits, 
 but from age or disease, or both, was unable to 
 change her position; she could move one arm at 
 will, hut her lower limbs could not be straight- 
 
 ened; her left arm lay across her breast and she 
 could not remove it; the fingers of her left hand 
 were drawn down so as nearly to close it, and 
 were fixed; the nails on that hand were almost 
 four inches long, and extended above her wrist; 
 the nails on her large toes had grown to the 
 thickness of a quarter of an inch; tier head was 
 covered with a thick bush of gray hair; but she 
 was toothless and totally blind, fn"d her eyes had 
 sunk so deeply in the sockets us to have disap- 
 peared altogether. 
 
 The exhibition was successful, as every ap- 
 pliance of the printer's art was used to got people 
 to think and talk and become curious and excited 
 over and about the "rare spectacle." Posters, 
 transparencies, advertisements, and newspaper 
 paragi'aphs were employed regardless of cx- 
 peuse, and the rooms were crowded continual- 
 ly, netting much profit to the proprietor, until 
 her death, which occurred in the next February. 
 Post-mortem examinations did not seem to indi- 
 cate so great an age as had been assumed, but 
 nothing is certainly known about her. His sec- 
 ond step in the show line was to exhibit an Ital- 
 ian juggler, and his third to engage as treasurer 
 to a traveling circus. He afterward continued 
 in the itinerating line, going from one place to 
 another, until the middle of 1841. 
 
 Thirty years ago in New York there was stand- 
 ing at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street 
 Scudder's American Museum — a collection of 
 curiosities from every quarter of the globe, and 
 having everything from a turtle weighing four- 
 teen hundred pounds to a curious toothpick. 
 Halleck had sung its praises when his muse had 
 some poetry to it, and it was altogether one of 
 the institutions of the city. Mr. Scudder wag 
 dead, and the property was held in trust for his 
 daughters, being valued at fifteen thousand dol- 
 lars, and costing probably about fifty thousand. 
 Since his death it had been losing money, and 
 the heirs were desirous of selling it. Barnum 
 conceived the idea of buying it, and asked his 
 friends their opinion. 
 
 " You buy the American Museum?" said one. 
 " What do you intend buying it with?" 
 
 "Brass,"' replied he, "" for silver and gold 
 have I none." 
 
 The Museum building then belonged to Mr. 
 Francis W. Olmsted, a retired merchant, to whom 
 Barnum wrote indicating his desire to buy the 
 collection, and saying that although lie had no 
 money, yet industry, combined with tact and ex- 
 perience, would, he thought, enable liim to meet 
 every payment in time. He therefore asked Mr. 
 Olmsted to purchase tho Museum in his own 
 name; to give him a writing securing it to Bar- 
 num, provided he made the payments punctual- 
 ly, including rent, and to allow twelve and a 
 half dollars a week for tho support of his family. 
 There was also a forfeiture clause. In replv to 
 this letter, Mr. Olmsted named an hour wlion 
 Barnum could call on him, and inquired as to 
 his habits and antecedents. As to references, 
 he had several prominent theatrical and circus 
 men, and Mr. Moaes Y. Beach, of the New York 
 Sun. Some of these gentlemen called on Mr. 
 Olmsted the next day, and spoke well of the 
 showman, and an agreement was entered into 
 by which the property was to lie bought by tlio 
 owner of tho building,' an accountant and ticket- 
 taker was to bo paid by Barnum, and tho whole 
 building was also leased by him at an aggregate 
 rent of $3,000 a year. On seeing Mr. John Heath, 
 the administrator of the estate, a bargain was 
 struck for 112,000, payable in seven yearly in- 
 stallments. Tlie day was appointed to draw and 
 sign the writings, and all parties appeared, when 
 Mr. Heath announced that he must decline any 
 further action, as he ha<l sold the collection to 
 Pealo's Museum, which had then considerable 
 reputation, for $15,000, and had received $1,000 
 as earnest. 
 
 This was quite a blow to Barnum, who had 
 confidently expected to obtain tho collection, 
 and he immediately took measures to inform 
 himself as to whom the managers of the Museum 
 were. They proved to bo a party of speculators 
 who had bought Peale's collection for a few thou- 
 sand dollars, expecting to join the American 
 Museum with it, and then to sell stock to a suffi- 
 cient extent to handsomely reimburse them- 
 selves. 
 
 Barnum went immediatelv to several of the 
 editors, including Major jf. M. Noah, M. Y. 
 Beach, and to West, Herrick, and Bopes, of the 
 Alias, and others, and stated his grievances. 
 
 " Now," said he, " if you will give me the use 
 of vour columns, I'll bl'ow that speculation sky- 
 hig"h." 
 
 ■They all consented, and he wrote a large num- 
 ber of soiiibs, cautioning the public against buy- 
 ing the Museum slock, ridiculing the idea of a 
 board of broken-down bank directors en;,'a;,'inp; 
 
 in the exhibition of stuffed monkey and gander- 
 skins; appealing to the case of the Zoological 
 Institute, which had failed by adopting such a 
 plan as the one now proposed; and finallv told 
 the public that such a speculation would bo in- 
 finitely more ridiculous than Dickens's " Grand 
 United Metropolitan Hot Mufiin and Crnmpet- 
 Baking and Punctual Delivery Company." 
 
 The stock was as " dead as a herring." He 
 then went to Mr. Heath and asked him when the 
 directors were to pay the other $14,000. 
 
 " On the 26th day'of December, or forfeit the 
 one thousand dollars already paid," was the 
 reply. 
 
 He was assured that they would never pay it, 
 that they could not raise i't, and that he would 
 ultimately find himself with the Museum collec- 
 tion on his hands, and if once Barnum started 
 oflf with an exhibition for the South he would not 
 touch the Museum at any price. 
 
 " Now," said he, "if you will agree with me 
 confidentially, that in case these gentlemen do 
 not pay you on the 26th of December, I may have 
 it on the 27th for twelve thousand dollars, I will 
 run the risk, and wait in this city untU that 
 date." 
 
 He readily agreed to the proposition, but said 
 ho was sure they would not forfeit their one 
 thousand dollars. ' 
 
 " Verv well," said Barnum; " all I ask of you 
 19 that this arrangement shall not be mentione'd." 
 He assented. " On the 27th day of December, 
 at ten o'clock a. m., I wish you to meet me in 
 Mr. Olmsted's apartments prepared to sign the 
 writings, provided this incorporated company 
 do not pay you the fourteen thousand on the 
 2Gth." 
 
 He agreed to this, and by request put it in 
 writing. 
 
 To outside parties, then, Barnum remarked 
 that he had lost the Museum. In the mean- 
 while he continued his newspaper squibs at the 
 company, which could not sell a dollar of its 
 stock. On the appointed day the money was not 
 paid, and Barnum became 'the proprietor, and 
 his first act was to place the directors and presi- 
 dent of the company on his free list. They were 
 very angry, but could do nothing, and Barnum 
 bent his energies to the building up and success- 
 ful conduct of his enterprise, dining in the Mu- 
 seum off bread and cheese, and working night 
 and day. The Museum was, even in Scudder's 
 day, worth the twenty-Qve cents charged twice 
 over, and it was speedily much increased. In 
 1842 Peale's Museum was added, and in 1850 an- 
 other largo collection was obtained, and during 
 all Barnuni's long connectiim with it additional 
 curiosities were secured. The result of the fru- 
 gality and enterprise displayed by tho manager 
 was that in a year the entire Mueeum was paid 
 for out of Its surplus earnings. The attractions 
 were conwfantly varying— educated dogs, fat 
 women, dwarfs and giants, industrious fieas, 
 albinos, ventriloquists, automatons, panoramas, 
 singing, dancing, pantomime, and theatrical per- 
 formances being a few. 
 
 While he expended money liberally for attrac- 
 tions for the inside of his Museum, and bought 
 or hired evervthing curious or rare which was 
 offered or could be found, he was prodigal in his 
 outlays to arrest or arouse public attention. 
 When he became proprietor of the eatablish- 
 ment, there were only the words "American 
 .Museum " to indicate tlie character of the con- 
 cern; there was no bustle or activity about tho 
 place; no posters to announce what was to be 
 seen; the whole exterior was as dead as the 
 skeletons and stuffed skins within. His experi- 
 ence had taught him the advantages of advertis- 
 ing. He printed whole columns in the papers, 
 setting forth the wonders of his cstahlisument. 
 Old " fogies " opened their eyes in amazement at 
 a man who could expend hundreds of dollars in 
 announcing a show of "stuffed monkey skins; "• 
 but these same old fogies paid their quarters, 
 nevertheless, and when they saw the curiosities 
 and novelties in the Museum halls, they, like all 
 other visitors, were astonished as well as pleased, 
 and went homo and told their friends and neigh- 
 bors, and thus assisted in advertising his busi- 
 ness. 
 
 One of tho happiest hits ever made by Barnum 
 was the engagement of General Tom Thumb, 
 who was found by the showman in Bridgeport, 
 Conn. Ho was then onlv five years old, was less 
 than two feet high, and weighed about sixteen 
 pounds. Under the acute management of the 
 manager of the Museum ho was made to appear 
 eleven years of age, and was placarded as the 
 .smallest dwarf ever known. The exhibition was 
 very successful in America, and a year or two 
 alter Tom was taken to England, where all the 
 arts of advertising were brought into requisition. 
 A l>ri 'fi ii;.;a'.^'-iiieiil wan made willi the Pi ii:eeef -i 
 
THE GRKAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 63 
 
 TLeatro, the Oeueral was invited iiitu the houses 
 of Baron Uothscliild aud others of the nobility, 
 and tlio Quoon gave a private interview. The 
 money coined in Kn;;lanil was very great, and 
 subseiinently as prutitablu tours wuro taken in 
 %'ranoo and OeruMny. 
 
 As wo descend later in time, wo find aocountH 
 of tlio Jenny liMid excitement. Nothing similar 
 to it had ever been known bet'oro, and it will 
 probably noviu- happen again. The outhusiaani 
 was trenieiidourt. ' [Seats sold for prices for which 
 a honso nii^ht bo obtained, the pleasure ot the 
 people who attended was unbounded, and the 
 golden stream of wealth flowed niioeasiugly into 
 the treasury of Barnuni. Her lame was great 
 before she arrived hero, but the impresario had 
 forestalled public opinion; the prews was tilled 
 for months previous with descriptions oi ./enny, 
 her gooilaoss, her benevolence, and the unaffect- 
 ed simplicity of her manners, and the quahtics 
 of her voice, one of the most syinpathetio and 
 tlezible over known, wore oxpatiatP(I uponby the 
 editors, who seem to have gone mad. Pictures 
 wore to bo found in every shop window, and 
 every apprentice and shop-girl know all the par- 
 ticulars of tho career of the Swedish nightingale. 
 .\dvorliseinents were inserted everywhere, and 
 nothing was loft unatteniptod to cause a general 
 intoxication of tho public iniud. For weeks after 
 her arrival m America tho excitement was un- 
 abated. Her rooms were thronged by visitors, 
 including tho magnates of tho land in both 
 Church and State. Tho carriages of the wealth- 
 iest citizens could be soon in front of her hotel 
 at nearly all hours of tho day, and it was with 
 some difficulty that Baruum prevented the 
 "fashionables" from monopolizing her alto- 
 gether, and thus, as ho believed, sadly marring 
 uis interest by cutting her off from the warm 
 sympathies she bad awakened among the masses. 
 Presents of all sorts were showered upon her. 
 Milliners, mantua-makera, aud shopkeepers vied 
 with each other in calling her attention to their 
 wares, of which they sent her many valuable 
 specimens, delighted if, in return, they could re- 
 ceive her autograph acknowledgment. Songs, 
 (piadriUes, aud polkas were dedicated to her, 
 and poets sung in her praise. Wo had Jenny 
 Lind gloves, Jenny Lind bonnets, Jenny Linil 
 riding hats, jeany Lmd shawls, mantillas, robes, 
 chairs, sofas, pianos — in fact, everything was 
 Jenny Lind. Her movements were constantly 
 watched, and the moment her carriage appeared 
 at tho door it was surrounded by multitudes, 
 eager to catch a glimpse of tho Swedish nightin- 
 gale. 
 
 This was tho luckiest hit of Barnum's genius. 
 Three-quarters of a million of dollars were re- 
 ceived by the troupe, and the profits were prob- 
 ably not less than a quarter of a million for Bar- 
 num, and Jenny's were one hundred and seven- 
 ty-six thousand. It was all obtained in ninety- 
 five concerts, and shows conclusively the eager- 
 ness of the American public to hear tho song- 
 stress. 
 
 Among other undertakings of Baruum were 
 plowing ny elephants in Connecticut, the Crystal 
 Palace of New York, Phillip's Annihilator, and 
 the Illustrated N'ews. In fact, he was engaged 
 in so many enterprises that it is difficult to follow 
 them. But among these there was an unlucky 
 connection with the Jerome Clock Company, 
 which succeeded in bankrupting the showman, 
 and compelled him almost to commence anew. 
 In the course of time, however, he built up an- 
 other fortune, and has succeeded in retaining it, 
 spite of tho destruction of his Museum twice by 
 fire, and other accidents by flood and field. 
 During tho period of his adversity he exhibited 
 tho little General in Europe, among other enter- 
 prises, and also lectured on the art of money- 
 getting. 
 
 Mr. Barnum relates many amusing stories re- 
 garding shrewd dodges in advertising, among 
 which is the following: 
 
 •' Goniu, tho hatter, bought the first Jenny 
 Lind ticket at auction for two hundred aud tweu- 
 ty-tive dollars, because he knew it would be a 
 good advertisement for him. ' Who is the bid- 
 der? ' said the auctioneer, as he knocked down 
 that ticket at Castle Garden. ' Genin, the hat- 
 ter,' was the response. Here were thousands 
 of people from the Fifth Avenue aud from dis- 
 tant cities in the highest stations in life. ' Who 
 is "Genin, tho hatter:" they exclaimed. They 
 had never heard of him before. The next morn- 
 ing the newspapers aud telegraph had circulated 
 the facts from Maine to Texas, and from five to 
 ten millions of people had read that the tickets 
 sold at auction for Jenny Lind's first concert 
 amounted to about twenty thousand dollars, and 
 that a single ticket was sold at two hundred aud 
 twenty-five dollars to ' Genin, the hatter.' Men 
 ;hronghout the country involuntarily took oft" 
 
 their Lata to soo if they bad a ' Genin ' hat on 
 their heads. At a town in Iowa it was found 
 that in the crowd around the post-office there 
 was one man who had a ' Gonm ' hat, and he 
 showed it in triumph, although it was worn out 
 and not worth two cents. ' Why,' one man ex- 
 claimed, ' you have a real " (ii^niii '" hat; what a 
 lucky fellow you are.' Another man said, ' Hang 
 on to that hat; it will bo a valuable heirloom in 
 your family.' Still another man in tho crowd, 
 "who Boenied to ouvy the possessor of this good 
 fortune, said, ' Come, give us all a chance; put it 
 up at auction.' Ho did so, and it was sold as a 
 keepsake for nine dollars aud fifty cents. What 
 was the cousecpieucc to Mr. Gciiin V Ho sold ten 
 thousand extra hats |)cr annum tho first six 
 years. N'ine-tontlm of tho purchasers bought of 
 Iiiiii, probably, out of curiosity, and many of 
 them, finding that he gave them an equivalent 
 for their money, bccanio his regular customers. 
 This novel advertisement first struck their atten- 
 tion, and then, as ho made a good article, they 
 came again." 
 
 The return to prosperity has not been suc- 
 ceeded by any fall. Stout and jovial, Baruum 
 cracks his jokes as freely as of yore, aud is able 
 to conceive aud carry out groat enterprises as 
 ever. 
 
 WLLUAM B. ASTOlt. 
 
 William Bklsted Astob, who died November 
 24, 1875, was tho administrator, as his father had 
 been the accumulator, of tho most valuable 
 lauded estate in this counti-y. He was born in 
 September, 1792, at 14t) Broadway, New York, at 
 once his father's house and store, and his father 
 was then a furrier, jstruggling along from month 
 to month in tho early precarious years of a pre- 
 carious trade. Matters mended in tho next ten 
 years, and the father, beginning the real estate 
 purchases by which his lortuue was achieved, 
 left the low two-story brick house on the right 
 side of Broadway, and going to tho head of the 
 street — Broadway was then scarcely known as 
 such above St. Paul's, with its church-yard close 
 to tho fields— and bought 223 Broadway, Kufus 
 King's house, built eight years before, just be- 
 fore his appointment to tho English mission, and 
 vacant most of tho time since. With the rest of 
 the block the house was torn down thirty years 
 later to make room for the Astor House. It was 
 in 1802 that John Jacob Astor moved to his new 
 house and opened his store on Barclay Street, 
 the yards of the two biiildings adjoining. Till 
 his son was thirty he lived with his father, mov- 
 ing again up-towu with him, aud in 1823 coming 
 back to the house at 223, which he occarjied for 
 ten years after. 
 
 The story of his father's accumulations, year 
 by year, for nearly half a century, has become a 
 familiar story. In a lesser and. secondary, but 
 in a most important sense, it is the story of tho 
 late Mr. Astor's life. He did not aid lu laying 
 the fouudation of the family estate, but he was 
 his father's efficient coadjutor in its increase. 
 From the start he had had the best of business 
 training, and at the start little but business train- 
 ing. As a mere boy he had busied himself about 
 the store; as an older lad he had taken the place 
 of one of tho clerks. His schooling was regular, 
 but it was interspersed with business, and there 
 was nothing in liis early life, or in the atmos- 
 phere in which ho lived, to turn the young son 
 of a wealthy man from close, unremitting atten- 
 tion to business upon reaching his majority. 
 Born in Germany, his father, to his death, had a 
 rooted fondness for the language, the manners 
 and the habits of his native land, and his boy's 
 education, to which he had given but small care, 
 was supplemented by a trip to Europe and a uni- 
 versity residence in Gottingen, where the young 
 student distinguished himself. It was his good 
 fortune to come under the careful tutorship of 
 one of tho most accomplished and ablest Ger- 
 man scholars aud statesman of the last age — 
 Von Bunsen, with whom he formed a friendship 
 which lasted through the latter's life. The edu- 
 cation ho received made Mr. Astor thi-ough life 
 a man of dignified culture, with affiliations 
 rather than a positive taste for literary studies. 
 To none of them did ho pay engrossing or even 
 partial attention, but he was thoroughly in sym- 
 pathy with literary men and affairs, after an un- 
 demonstrative fashion. A trip through Europe 
 completed his education, and he returned to en- 
 ter his father's business. 
 
 His life, from the time ho entered the firm of 
 John Jacob Astor & Son, in 1817, was the life of a 
 buBiness man, of business habits aud business 
 ambitions. His success would have turned the 
 head of a man less wedded to the persistent per- 
 formance of the details of a business hfe; but it 
 never turned his head. He was a hard, earnest, 
 
 unassuming worker to the last, as ho was in 
 those early years when his father, after a lucky 
 purchase of tea cargoes in tho war, was adding 
 to investments in laud and traffic in furs, tho 
 (^hlna trade. For six years the young man was 
 in the family firm; then, in 1823, tho Anicricau 
 Fur (Jompany was organized, and shortly after, 
 when his father retired, leaving a large amount 
 of his canital still invested in the company, Mr. 
 William IJ. Astor became its president, a posilioji 
 he held for some voars. .\t nearly the mutmo 
 time ho married and began to live in tho Iiom-d 
 already mentioned. His wife, .Margaret ,\riii- 
 strong, was the daughter of General John Arm- 
 strong, a resident of KhinebecK, N. V'., and Sec- 
 retary of War to President Madison's adminis- 
 tration through the war of 1812. General .Arm- 
 strong had been, besides, one of New York's 
 early senators, and succeeded in the French 
 niission Chancellor Jjivingstonc, with whoso fami- 
 ly ho was connected. 
 
 At thirty-five Mr. Astor was well started in life, 
 and his business was iii a fair way to become as 
 flourishing as his lather's, from whom ho re- 
 ceived grants ot land, as oarnexts of the com- 
 ing inheritance. The Astor House, built under 
 his father's daily and personal supervision, as 
 wore its alterations forty years later under hm 
 own (so little had tho family manners altered 
 while all around had changed), becanio his prop- 
 erty in this way, deeded to him for $1. In much 
 tho same manner the house in which, up to a few 
 years preceding his death, ho lived (jn Astor 
 Place, was deeded to him, and other not less 
 valuable tracts became his by purchase, some 
 by inheritance through his wife, to whom her 
 father's property descended. His father's en- 
 terprises were constantly swelling his accumula- 
 tions, and his own were sharing in tho family 
 prosperity when the panic of 1837 came. Both 
 father and son were fully prepared, and added 
 to already largo fortunes by the purchase of 
 property and securities in a time of general de- 
 pression — an operation by which tho father had 
 profited in the war of 1812, buying United States 
 bonds at 80 cents on the dollar, and selling them 
 at $1.20 two years later; and, if report speaks 
 true, the same profitable use of surplus capital 
 was made by tho sou in the last war. 
 
 In 18-11, it" is said— not on the best authority- 
 Mr. Astor aided in the election of Mr. Fernando 
 Wood, then running for tho first time for a seat 
 in Congrsss. Mr. Astor's assistance is pro- 
 nounced "not improbable " by one of the few 
 brought into intimate personal relations with 
 him. If the report be true, it is tho solitary in- 
 stance in which Mr. Astor departed from a fami- 
 ly tradition, which enjoined strict abstinence 
 from active politics, and a quiet acquiescence in 
 the supremacy of the ruling power, whatever it 
 might be. 
 
 When prices began to revive in the early 
 forties, Mr. Astor had retired from most of his 
 active business relations — he was fifty, it must 
 be remembered— aud devoted himself to the care 
 of the property he had acquired for himself, and 
 of the parental estate, which his father's increas- 
 ing infirmity was constantly leaving more aud 
 more under his control. Much the same relations 
 had grown up between the two as existed in later 
 years between Mr. William B. Astor and his son 
 John Jacob Astor, when his father's long life 
 was ended March 28, 1848, he dying, as his son 
 died, at nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning, 
 after a brief illness. A week later his will was 
 published, naming Mr. William B. Astor as the 
 residuary legatee of an estate believed to be 
 worth $20,000,000, and diminished by bequests 
 some $2,000,000. 
 
 The provisions of Mr. John Jacob Astor's will 
 were numerous and complex; but they were 
 executed with a care and supplemented with a 
 wisdom which, more than any other act of his 
 long life, reflect credit on his character. One of 
 his sons was sent to tho village of Waldorff, 
 where the father was born, to superintend the 
 expenditure of the bequests made fxjr tho benefit 
 of the town. The singularly small annuity which 
 Mr. Astor conferred on Fitz Greene Halleck, was 
 raised by his son to a respectable figure, and be 
 took occasion m a number of other instances to 
 add to the small bequests which his father had 
 made. Chief among the bequests was the pro- 
 vision made for tho Astor Library. The institu- 
 tion was since its foundation the constant care of 
 Mr. Astor, and he more than doubled the origi- 
 nal endowment of $400,000. To the lot which 
 was first given he added another, doubling tho 
 size of the library building, and ho annually 
 made gilts by the purchase of volumes for the 
 library, as well as by a direct increase of its en- 
 dowment. His father's will made him a member 
 of the Library Board of Trustees, and ho re- 
 mained up to tho last mcmth of his life constamt^ 
 
64 
 
 THE GREAT EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 in his attendance iipon the meetinga of the 
 board. It was a signal illustration of the at- 
 tention to minor and insignificant detail which 
 had 80 strong a hold upon father and son, that 
 in the management of the library he endeavored 
 to inform himself of its defects in special in- 
 stances, and took upon himself the purchase of 
 the needed volumes. It was his special desire to 
 make the library complete in its set of classical 
 works, and one of the later additions he made 
 was composed of some six hundred volumes, 
 bought to supply deficiencies in this particular. 
 The purchase of a well-known Egyptian work, 
 widely noticed of late, was made at his instance 
 in the same way, and at the time he removed 
 from his house in Astor Place he turned over a 
 large part of his personal library, selected by 
 himself, to the institution, which is one of the 
 most useful, as it is among the largest hbraries 
 iu the United States. 
 
 With his father's death and the inheritance of 
 his landed estate began, in other and more im- 
 portant respects, the best and the Tnost important 
 Eeriod of his life. Two or three bitter lawsuits 
 ad marked his father's life, and the last of 
 them — the somewhat famous case of Ogden vs. 
 Astor — survived him. It grew out of a claim 
 made by Samuel B. Ogden, on behalf of his 
 brother, one of Mr. John Jacob Astor's Chinese 
 factors, who had died upon his way home, un- 
 der circumstances which left all proof of the ex- 
 tent of his claims against his emplover iu the 
 hands of the latter. The suit had dragged 
 along with varying fortunes for several years, 
 when it came under Mr. William B. Astor's con- 
 trol, as one of the charges against the estate to 
 which he succeeded. It was compromised by 
 hire for $200,000, it is said. 
 
 For the future, and in accordance with a set- 
 tled policy, Mr. William B. Astor was a landlord, 
 and in many respects nothing but a landlord. 
 The bequests of his uncle, who left him nearly 
 $500,000, had done something to make him a 
 rich man in this respect; for his uncle, in his 
 later and more successful years as a butcher, 
 had bought heavily of real "estate on the Bow- 
 ery, owning at one time all of a large tract to 
 the left of that street, on a part of which the 
 Bowery Theatre now stands. The acquisitions 
 made bv Mr. Astor himself, in addition to this, 
 would nave satisfied most men; and to these, 
 as.but a small portion of his ultimate property, 
 he added his father's close-bnilt acres. It was 
 said of his father that he knew each of his 
 tenants by sight. It was true of the son that 
 he knew the condition of each of the many lots 
 which he owned, and judged for himself of the 
 rental, which for eacli year was determined but 
 once, whether the building was taken or stood 
 tcnantless. The expenses of lus enormous trans- 
 actions ho reduced to fignros which seem mar- 
 velous, and, so far as it is to the interest of the 
 community that its exchanges be economically 
 effected, this economy may not liave been the 
 least of the benefits he coiiferred in the man- 
 agement of his estate. 
 
 It would be dilficnlt to determine the extent, 
 and wholly impossible to determine the value of 
 the prope'rtj', either real or personal. Mr. As- 
 tor paid more taxes on real estate than any other 
 man in the country. He paid annually, as taxes 
 on his real property, $500,000, whicH was one- 
 Boventieth of the whole amount of tax collected 
 annually in this city at that time. The assessed 
 valuation of his real estate was understood to be 
 some $16,000,000, with a probable actual value of 
 some $25,000,000, about one-sixth of which is 
 locked up in long leases, some of which were ex- 
 piring almost every day. His propertv was all 
 improved, and he did not own a single vacant 
 lot. 
 
 During the last years of his life he did not buy 
 real estate so largely, but was principally en- 
 gaged in building or exchanging. He was also 
 heavily interested in all the railroads running 
 out from this city in all directions. 
 
 A large part o"f Mr. Astor's property lay in the 
 most visible and tangible form which it could as- 
 sume. But to a degree which few wealthy men 
 can accomplish, and fewer still care to achieve, 
 he passed his' life in privacy. His full figure, 
 with traces about it ofhis Gorman lineage, and 
 reminiscences to older men of his father's man- 
 ner and gait, became familiar from his long 
 habit of walking to the little place of business 
 on Prince Street, about which so much has been 
 read, and ot whose contents so little is known. 
 Unostentatious and unassuming by nature, he 
 steadily cultivated these traits till they have be- 
 come the traditions of the familv, and are likelv 
 to prolong its usefulness. " If you can find," 
 said an honored and frequent associate of his, 
 recently, " a word that means in the strongest 
 way ' not purse-proud,' you can apply it to Mr. 
 
 Astor. He was that all the time. I never heard 
 hiiu allude to his money or introduce the subject 
 in the remotest manner." Upon this point the 
 testimony of his friends and his acquaintances is 
 uniform. He sank to a degree which was as un- 
 usual, and in as good taste and sense as it was 
 remarkable, all outer signs of his enormous 
 wealth. The system and the methods of half a 
 century relieved him of the grievous load its 
 mere care would be to most. His office hours 
 were regular, but they were short, runnmg from 
 ten to two, and he spent them almost to the day 
 of his death standing before his desk. In his 
 office hours or out of them, he had always leis- 
 ure, and he had lived too long and too wisely 
 ever to live in a hurry. Such benefactions as 
 he made were made in the private and unos- 
 tentatious manner which distinguished all his 
 actions. That they were numerous and most 
 hberal, is affirmed by those who knew him best. 
 
 The little coterie of literateurs and of authors, 
 with Washington Irvine; chief among the latter, 
 who were the friends of his father, remained his 
 friends; but when they passed away he did not 
 replace them by others. Mr. Astor had m many 
 senses out-lived his generation, but the courteous 
 manners which distinguished it, and which his 
 own culture and refinement developed and 
 strengthened, remained his to the last. His 
 lather took pains in his will to declare himself a 
 member of the German Reformed Church, though 
 no members of its clergy acted at his funeral. 
 His son was for years a member of the church in 
 which his father was buried. He died as he had 
 lived, a consistent member of the communion to 
 which he belonged. Ho left two sons, John 
 Jacob Astor and William B. Astor, who inherit 
 the bulk of his fortune. Of three daughters, two 
 are living, married— one to Franklin H. Delano, 
 and the other to Mr. William Gary; the daughter 
 of the third, married to Mr. Samuel Ward, is the 
 wife of J. Winthrop Chanler. 
 
 In his will the testator declared he had formed 
 the resolution to add, during his lifetime, $250,- 
 000 to the endowment of the Astor Library. It 
 appeared by a codicil executed in 1869, that he 
 had given to the institution all of this sum save 
 $49,000. K anv portion ol this balance remained 
 unpaid at his death, his executors were to pay it 
 to the trustees of the library, and in addition 
 were to pay them $200,000, to" be kept invested 
 and held as a permanent fund, of which the in- 
 come was to 1)6 expended in the purchase of 
 books and the maintenance of the library, with 
 liberty to the trustees to expend not exceeding 
 $25,000of the capital in the purchase of books. 
 This gave the library about $12,000 a year more 
 to increase it and keep it running, 
 
 COL. W. A. BOEBLXNO. 
 
 W. A. Boebhng, Chief Engineer of the Brook- 
 Ivn Bridge, was born in Saxonburg, Butler 
 County, Pa., Mav 26, 1837. He graduated from 
 the Uensselaer Polytechnic Institute, at Troy, at 
 the age of twenty years. In the meantime" his 
 faculty for engineering was already well defined, 
 and as his father had charge of the .Allegheny 
 Suspension Bridge, young Hoebling went upon 
 that work as an assistant. After the war, in which 
 ho served, he assisted his father in completing 
 the suspension bridge at Cincinnati. After his 
 father's death he became responsible for the fu- 
 ture work on the East Biver Bridge, and his 
 greatest anxiety was in regard to the sinking of 
 the caissons for the big towers. Long exposure 
 to abnormal conditions in superintending the 
 construction of these broke his health, and he 
 lias since been a confirmed invalid, though his 
 brain is as active and clear as ever, and ne di- 
 rected the work from a sick chamber with pre- 
 cision and energy lor the long period of ten 
 years, with an interval of rest at Wiesbaden, in 
 Germany, of six months. In this long absence 
 from the" actual scene of his work, through his 
 assistants he attended to every detail and im- 
 proved on the plans of his father. He had to 
 solve new and untried problems that arose in 
 the progress of the building, yet always proved 
 equal to the occasion. The methods lised to get 
 the materials out of the caissons, the plan for 
 lighting the caissons and furnishing them with a 
 supply shaft, the machinery for raising the stone 
 on the towers so that the top course was laid at 
 the same price as the bottom course, were all of 
 his designs. The anchor plates were made much 
 larger tnan those designed bv his father. Steel 
 cables were never before used, and all previous 
 cables had been made of seven strands. The 
 cables for this bridge were so large that they had 
 to be made in nineteen strands. The unusual 
 number of strands made necessary the construc- 
 tion of two tiers of anchor chains. The use of an 
 elevated loot bridge over th« tops of the towers 
 
 was a new feature, and the manufacture and pro 
 paration of the steel for the cables were alter 
 methods he elaborated. He did not attend in 
 
 Eerson the celebration on the 24th of May, but 
 e had a view of the procession from the window 
 of his sick chamber. 
 
 A feature of pathetic and it might be said of 
 tragic interest iu the history of the bridge wa?s 
 the fate that, in the discharge of their duties, be- 
 fell the two engineers— the father, John A. Roeb- 
 ling, and the son, Washington A. Roebling. 
 The former was standing on a string-piece of the 
 pier next to the Fulton Ferry slip, fixing a loca- 
 tion for the Brooklyn tower, when a ferryboat 
 entering the slip drove the fenders against the 
 dock so as to crush the engineer's foot. He be- 
 lieved in treatmg the injury in hydropathic fash- 
 ion, and allowed it to remain under a faucet of cold 
 running water until it was over-chiUed, and the 
 result was lockjaw, of which Sir. Boebhng died 
 in fourteen days. His son, who succeeded him, 
 faithful to the work before him, incurred by 
 overzeal in his attention to duty, disorders in the 
 foul air of the caissons, where many men lost 
 their lives, that no compensation in money can 
 counterbalance. 
 
 ■ ♦ ■ 
 
 THE BUSY LIFE OF OUE CITY MEN. 
 
 The modem New Yorker is always in a hurry. 
 He gets up in the morning and rings an electric 
 bell to let the servant know that breakfast may 
 be put upon the table; the old-fashioned bell is 
 too slow, and the electric affair is fast taking 
 its place in all new houses, its greater first cost 
 being more than made up for by its convenience 
 and the fact that, once in place, there is no wear 
 upon the wire, as is the case with all old-fash- 
 ioned bells. It is fast ruining the business of 
 bell-hanging, as a locksmith complained re- 
 cently. The New Yorker swallows his breakfast /^ 
 in forty gulps and dashes off to the elevated road 
 station, where he fumes and frets if he has to 
 wait more than thirty seconds for a train. On 
 the way down-town ho skims through the paper 
 in a tremendous hurry, the present system of 
 devoting half a column to synopsis of the news, 
 entitled "Five Minutes with the News at a 
 Glance," etc., having been introduced in order 
 to save time; it is now the only part of the paper 
 read by thousands of New Y'orkers. A genuine, 
 busy New Yorker would no more think nowadays 
 of riding dowu-town in a horse-car than of going 
 to Boston in a stage-coach, nor of reading a 
 newspaper all through when the synopsis gives 
 him the gist of the day's news, any more than he 
 would dream of reading editorial articles. I 
 have heard a dozen men say, in the last six 
 mouths, that a ride in the horse-car made them 
 so nervous that they preferred walking. The 
 horse car motion is too groat a contrast to the 
 rapid life of to-day, when everything goes by 
 steam and electricity. Once in his office, the 
 busmess man seizes his bundle of telegrams- 
 more than half the business correspondence be- 
 ing now done by telegraph— and dictates the 
 answers to a clerfc, who sends them off by tele- 
 graph. 'Then with a stock, or cotton, or produce 
 exchange ticker, as the case may be, on one side 
 and a telephone on the other, the modern opera- 
 tor does ten times the business that was possible 
 before electricity came into play. About noon a 
 luncheon is brought in, or the business man goes 
 to Deliuonico's or the Astor House, and perching 
 himself on a high stool, calls for a chicken patte, 
 a wine cake and some ice cream, winding up 
 with some kind of drink — not water. Then back 
 to the office, more telephoning, telegraphing, 
 and at last home on the elevated road. 
 
 Skill in the N. Y. Post Office. — Four times 
 a year the sorters who distribute letters and 
 papers among the window boxes in the N. Y. 
 Post Office are examined as to their swiftness and 
 accuracy. There are 6,000 boxes used by over 
 24,000 persons. In their examinations the sorters 
 are obliged to do without the usual directions on 
 letters and wrappers. The names of the users 
 of boxes are written on cards, but no box num- 
 ber or even street address is added. There are 
 thirty-three sorters, and one or two are examined 
 at a time. They are given about 2,500 cards indis- 
 criminately selected, and they stand in front 'of 
 a case having 14 pigeon holes, or one hole for 
 cacli box window. Every sorter must know in- 
 stantlv not only each box number, but the win- 
 dow in which that box is. They must also de- 
 tect such cards as do not represent box-holders, 
 but are intended for up-town or down-town de- 
 livery, and these must be sorted into two heaps. 
 There are sorters who can undergo this test with- 
 out imlun-j; more than twenty or thirty mistakes. 
 
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