Abott'i N*K ¥ YOM :^%a^^' -.:^ !c''!j,. ■ :, ■ViTiSeilWl.^ii^v '-.-/.. ' i£x ICtfartfl SEYMOUR DURST "t ' 'Fort niewv i^mAtrdatn^ oj^ <^v-^-'^'- •: ^, "->>>■ ABOUT NEW YORK. 39 Indeed, I believe Captain l^oali would have been more surprised than I was. Even Bill was startled, for he said, right out: ''By Golly I" Whatever that may mean, I do not know, but it always seemed to relieve Bill — so he said : "By Golly, but she is big!'' " Bigger than the Golden Grocer — isn't she. Bill?" '' The Grocer ain't anything but a wash-tub," he said. He seemed so disgusted that I asked him if he was sick ; but, he said, he was a thousand miles away from that. We went all over the ship, and then returned to the Golden Grocer, where we sold potatoes, and boiled eggs in the tea-kettle just as before, and were not proud because we had seen the great ship. I think every one will be interested to know that it takes the timber from forty acres of wood-land to build a large war-ship. The Niagara war-ship, belonging to the United States, which has just been launched, will cost over ten hundred thousand dollars ; and, as every person in the United States lias to pay something, we 40 ABOUT NEW YORK. ought to have the satisfaction of knowing that she is a good ship, if she did cost us so much. At any rate she is large — for she measures, on deck, 345 feet, and carries 5,200 tuns : her mast, from keel to flag, is 200 feet high ; higher than most steeples — and enough to make one dizzy. She will require, to man her, four hundred men — as many as make a small town. I guess if Bill had seen her he would have said some- thing else than "By Golly!" which, in my opinion, is not a very handsome word. I have my own views about the use of such phrases, and I very well remem- ber that, when we were boys, and were playing in my uncle's yard, one of us said right out, "I vow!" My uncle heard him and said, quite sharply, ''What's that! What's that! I vow?" "Yes, sir," I said, for I would not deny my words. After waiting a minute, he said to me: "What do you say 'I vow' for? Why don't you say — I SWAGGERS ?" I said neither " I vow," nor " I swaggers," that day, again. ABOUT NEW YORK. 41 CHILDREN. When I first went to New York, in the Golden GTrocer, with Bill Shelly, I thought it would be splendid to live where there were so many houses, and where one could have baker's-bread, "twist," every day; and I said to Bill, * ' Bill, wouldn't you like to live in New York, if you were me ?" Then he said to me, "If you was a robin red-breast, would you like to live in a cage, and only look at red bricks r "Of course I wouldn't, Bill. I'm not a fool!" Then Bill pinched Jerry's tail, and we had a grand " Bow-wow," and a laugh — for Jerry was very angry. "But," said I, "why not. Bill — why not hve in New York?" " Look here, Phil., don't you want to see the trees?" "Yes." ' 'And the blossoms ?" ' ' Yes." * 'And to gather the fruit ?" ' ' Yes." "And don't you want to hear the birds sing, and the 42 ABOUT NEW YORK. COWS moo, and the hens cackle, and don't you want to find the eggs ?" ^'Of course I do, Bill" "And don't you want to go out into the woods for huckleberries and blackberries, and to shake down the rattling nuts ?" " Yes, I do !" " Then, when it comes wdnter, don't you like to live where there are hills for sliding, and ponds for skating, and don't you think it's nice to make traps for quails ?" ''Yes, I do!" " Well, then," said Bill, " what do you want to live here for ? — here you can't run nor holler, and there's nothing for a boy to do, as I can see, and not much for a girl, except go to school, which nobody ought to do all the time. Now, it's well enough for you to come down here once in a while, in a nice sloop, like the Golden Grocer, with me to take care of you, but what do you want to live here for ?" " I don't know, on the whole," I said, "but I like Mayford the best." ABOUT NEW YORK 43 ''To be sure you do," he said. "Now, you just go up about the streets, and see what children have to do here." So I went ; and one of the first boys I saw had a basket slung on his shoulders, piled up with bits of kindling-wood — that way. I watched him, and every little while he drawled out — " B-i-m-e - w-o-o-d," which, I found out, meant pine-wood ; and that that boy got his living by getting together old bits of boards, cut- ting them up, and then selling them, in this way, for kind- ling, to poor people. almost as poor as he. Then I saw lots of little 44 ABOUT NEW YORK. ragged boys and girls, too — very, very dirty — who were scuffling about, wherever there were bags of coffee and hogsheads of sugar on the docks ; and that, with pieces of stick, they hooked some out of them when they could. But, whenever the cap- tain or a pohce officer came along, away they all scattered, so as not to be caught. Those are little dock-rogues (''wharf-rats," as some call them), who live by pilfering. Some of the poor creatures have fathers and mothers, who tell them to do so ; and some of these young things take care of themselves and live as they can. Since that time I have found houses in the city filled with such poor families. One night I went, with a policeman, at midnight, into the cellar of a house in Water street, where there were six beds, filled with men and women, and these poor children. The cellar was dark, damp, dirty, and foul, and how any child could live in such a place, I could not see. I shuddered to think of it, and I felt glad that ABOUT NEW YORK. 45 I was born in Mayford, where the air is pure, and the water clean, and where there were no poor children like these ; and I determined to do all I could to help the " Children's- Aid Society," which, last year, got country homes for a thousand of these little vagrants. These boys and girls are just the same, my school- fellows, as you are ; but they have not good fathers and mothers to teach them to be clean and good, and to buy them clothes and books, and the thou- sand things that many children have without think- ing how they get them. Well, then, there's another set of boys — queer fellows they are, too — the news-boys. They are a sort of little Cossacks. Whenever a ship comes in with news, and "extras" are printed, they watch to buy the first papers, and away they scud, all over the city, crying and shouting till they are hoarse, '"Rival of the 'Cific!" "Great noos!" " Em- prur's baby!" "Peace prospek," and so on. But on Sundays they travel over the city with 46 ABOUT Nl^W YORK. their pile of papers, shouting, with all kinds of voices, something like this : " Sud'day Muk'ry, Sud'day Tibes, Sud'day 'Spatch, Sud'day Cooria, Sud'day 'Erald." Which of course means, as every boy and girl will know, the Sunday Mercury, Times, Dispatch, Courier, and Herald. Many of these boys are very smart, and some of them make a good deal of money : some have sup- ported themselves from the time they were eight years old. They were once in the habit of sleeping about on the stairs of the newspaper offices ; but within the last two years a lodging-house has been fitted up for them, where they can have a clean bed and a warm, comfortable room for six cents a night ; and there, Mr. Tracy, the superintendent, teaches them how to wash their faces, and take care of their clothes and earnings, and the little fel- lows now like him, and are every day growing better than they once were. There are many and many little boys and girls who are sent out daily to beg. I have met them in the ABOUT NEW YORK. 47 cold days of winter, shivering and crying, and without stockings or shoes, begging for a penny. It is hard to refuse them, though, in many cases, their parents spend their pennies all in grog-shops, which abound in New York. For my part, when I see these dirty, suffering children, I think I would rather be anything than a grog-seller. Perhaps the poor children who have the best time are those who go round with the organs and the mon- keys. 48 ABOUT NEW YORK. Nearly all the organ-grinders are Italians, and nearly all like to own monkeys ; for everybody likes to see them, they are such quaint, queer little mounte- banks oi men. They are rigged out with a hat and coat, dance to the music, after a fashion, and soon like to pick up the pennies, when they jump up to their master, and put them in his pocket. They will almost always fly at cats, and may be made jealous of peo- ple. I one day saw a boy pick up a penny which had been thrown on to the side-walk, when the httle black monkey flew at him, and jumped up upon his shoulders, and pulled away at the boy's hair till he dropped the penny and ran for home. Then the monkey picked up the penny and chattered away, and grinned with great glee. During the winter, the organ-players live in town — people, children, and monkeys — pretty much all in common, and in filth. In the evenings they go out to play, and they seek the windows where the lights are bright, and they see signs of children ; and you will hear them about till nigh midnight. As they are ABOUT NEW YORK. 49 apt to play until they are paid something to go, they make pretty good livings, and pay a good romid rent for their organs, too. For my own part, I like to hear these peripatetic musicians ; only let them play in moderation, not every night, not every one. In the summer, they go out over the country, and play in the towns and villages, and along the road- sides, and there it is pleasant to hear them, and then their children have a good time. So I am glad when they go in the country, and so are you, reader — are you not ? I have told something about the poor children. I think the children of the rich have a stupid time in the city, too. STREET MERCHANTS AND CRIES. I remember very well, when I went to New York, seeing a man pushing about §k, hand-cart, who kept crying— ' * P-aug-e ! — P-aug-e ! Paug-e ! — paug-e !" And then he would blow a horn as loud as he could. 50 ABOUT NEW YORK. When I asked Bill what that meant, he laughed a lit- tle, and said — ''Why, he's a merchant! and sells porgies," which is a kind of fish. I had always thought of a New York merchant as a great man, with warehouses and goods, and clerks, and heaps of money. But I have since learned that any man is a merchant who acts between the producer and consumer ; and that this ragged man, who bought the fish from the 1 man who caught them, and sold them to him who eat them, was really a merchant. There is a very | large number of people in N'ew York who live in , tiie street, and among them many a merchant who pays no rent. In the first place, early in May, boys and girls, and men and women, go about the streets, singing out — " Rad-shees — Rad-shees." And most of the people buy their radishes of them, at three, or two, or one cent a bunch. Then, in a month or so, you hear them crying, at the top ABOUT NEW YORK. 51 of their voices, and some of them cry with a rough, gruff voice, and some cry with a sharp, shrill voice — " Straw-breez — Straw-breez," — that way. And from them people buy little baskets of straw- berries at ten, or eight, or six, or five cents a basket. Then, by-and-by, they cry raspberries, and then huckleberries, and then blackberries, in the same way. But, besides these, oranges and pine-apples, and potatoes, and peaches, and apples, are sold by the street merchants, many of whom go with an old wagon and horse. And you must know, that away on the outskirts of the city, is a place where many a horse is sold to these merchants for five dollars ; and as one of them once told me, a Yery good pair could be bought for fourteen dollars. Think of it ! How the crows must be after them. Then, when it comes corn-time, you will hear the cry in the evening, first from a rough voice — " HOT-K-0-R-N— HOT-K-0-R-N." And then from a small, child voice — •' Hot-K-o-r-n— Hot-K-o-r-n." 52 ABOUT NEW YORK. And if you go out to buy, you will see people with baskets on their heads, out of which they will take ears of smoking-hot boiled corn, which are kept hot in cloths, and will sell you one for two or three cents. But I don't eat corn that way. Every day there goes by my house a man who cries, what sounds like " Yried vish ! — Tried vish!" And my wife said — " Why does that man cry fried fish r He did not cry fried fish at all — but '* Glass-put- in.'^ And there are many of these who mend up the broken windows. Little girls and boys go about with baskets, and cry— ' ' M-at-chez — M-at-chez !'' And they sell a great many. There are some street merchants who have no cry at all ; but have a sort of board, upon which they spread out their apples and pea-nuts, and candy ABOUT NEW YORK. 53 at tlie corners ; and some of these make more than two dollars a day profit. The book mer- chants have their stands, here and there, where they sell a good many second-hand books. There are men and women, too, who, in May and June, sell bunches of flowers in the streets, and some of them very beautiful ones, too. I like to buy a rosebud now and then of a little German girl, which I give to my wife, and it makes her think of gardens, and green grass, and singing-birds : very pleasant to her. There are others who get their living in the streets, who, perhaps, cannot be called merchants. You will see, in the very early morning, these little carts, drawn sometimes by a man, sometimes by a woman, but almost always with two dogs harnessed under- neath ; and it is curious to see how those dogs do pull. I had no idea, until I saw them, how much they could drag, and how strong and will- ing they were. Some of them collect swill, and all sorts of old bones and refuse at the houses ; 54 ABOUT NEW YORK. and some collect from the ash-boxes bits of half- bm^nt coal. These they use and sell, and so get livings for themselves and their dogs. Perhaps these men and women have a good time — but I think I would rather be one of the dogs. You will see, too, men and women going about the streets — and they start early, too — with sacks on their shoulders, and an iron hook in their hands ; they poke into any pile of rubbish or filth, and hook out anything that has value. These are called ABOUT NEW YORK. 55 ''Rag-pickers" here ; and there are hundreds of them in Paris, and there they are called " Chiflbniers." Some of them have done it all their lives, and are as well known there as the Duke of Welling- ton was in London. You will now and then hear a rich, loud voice come along the street, singing away — *' Sweep-o-sweep-o ! Ho-o-hie-he-o ! Ho-o! Ho- sweep-o !" Almost always these are negroes, and they are chimney-sweeps. Now they sweep the chimneys with long-handled brushes, but some years ago, little fel- lows — sometimes not more than seven or eight years old — would crawl up the fire-places ; I would hear him go brushing up ; and, then, when I ran out of the door, I would see his little head come pop out the top of the high chimney, where for a few minutes he would sing away — "Hi-ho! Ho-ho! Sweep-o! Sweep-o! Hi-ho ! Hi-ho !" which sounded better to me than it did to him, I guess. 5t:» A B U T N E W Y R K In London these little sweeps formed quite a class by themselves, but they were white boys. There was a man in London who had a great fancy for the little rough, dirty fellows : his name was Jem White ; and every year he would give them a smoking hot supper at a tavern, wliere he, Charles Lamb, and other friends, put on aprons and waited on them. When^they had eaten enough. White and Lamb would ABOUT NEW YORK. 57 propose toasts and drink their healths, and make funny speeches. They all enjoyed it and had a good time, as you can read in the charming Essays of Elia. THE STREETS. A great city is certainly a very strange place, if one can stop for a moment to think of it. Two hundred years ago, New York was a cow-pasture ; now it is covered with streets and magnificent houses, and stores and wharves, and is crowded with half a million of people. What has made this difference ? One of the singular things that I saw, when I first went to New York, was that the streets were carefully covered over with round stones about as large as my head; and I said to Bill: "Bill, what's that for ? We in the country have roads, and every spring we go out to mend them ; and then you know we cart on heaps of dirt, something soft — but here they are all covered with stones." " Certing," said Bill, with his bad grammar; *'cer- 58 ABOUT NEW YORK. ting. This is pavement ; and let me tell you, that even these streets paved with stone don't stand it very long, with these thousands of carts going over them carrying heavy loads. You jest go up along the streets till you come to Broadway, and you'll see how the pavement is all worn into holes. You jest go!'^ So I did, and it was as he said. These round stones — made so by being rolled about in the sea for so many years — are carefully laid in sand and rammed down ; but, by-and-by, one of them sinks a little, and then every wheel wears away the hole bigger and bigger, till in an incredibly short time the street becomes dangerous. Every kind of experiment has been tried to make a pavement that will last : round boulder-stones, blocks of wood, the Russ pavement : this is made by first putting down a foundation of granite chips and cement ; on the top of which are set blocks of granite about ten inches square. The German pave- ment — blocks of granite about six inches square, care- ABOUT NEW YORK. 59 fully bedded in sand. The iron pavement — castings of iron set in sand. The boulder pavement is very jarring and noisy. The wood pavement does not wear. The Russ pave- ment is very costly, and becomes so very slippery that horses cannot keep their feet. The German pavement is excellent, and the iron promises to do better. Broadway is the great thoroughfare of New York : from the Battery to the Reservoir it is four miles long, and on both sides are warehouses and shops (with a few dwelling-houses, and hotels, and theatres) through its whole length. The street is filled from morning to night with omnibusses, carriages and people : and one would think that it was a per- petual holiday there, and that the men and women had nothing in this world to do, but to trick them- selves out in fine clothes and parade themselves, and act very much like ridiculous monkeys. No one could imagine how much a little piece of ground in Broadway would sell for, if he were not told. The 60 1- w I i -N ;. \\ \ \/ it h. ^•■^:k METROPOLITAN HOTEL, BROADWAY. Trinity building, which stands, I should think, on a lot 50 by 150 feet, rents for sixty thousand dollars a year. Then in the Fifth avenue, which is the street for the most extravagant dwelling-houses, there are many that cost fifty thousand dollars each, some that cost one hundred thousand dollars, and a few that cost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Just think of it for a moment, and this house is to shelter two ordinary enough people from the weather. ABOUT NEW YORK. 61 One cannot but laugh a little at the very ridiculous figure some people cut in these fine houses ; but that is the way we do in great cities — "Poor jewels need a fine setting :'' — The Kohinoor needs none, you know. Now, where does the money come from to build the fine houses? — answer that if you can. To show what men can and do live in, out of New York, I will tell what one of my friends said, in looking at a hundred- thousand- dollar house : — ** Why," said he, "I bought my house on Lake Superior for ten dollars, and I lived comfortably in it for a year." And the happiest man I ever knew, lived in a house that cost . less than five hundred dollars. Now, my readers might suppose, looking only at Broadway and Fifth avenue, that to be rich and glorious was the principal business of people in New York. But just step out of Broadway — go just behind the front wall, and you will find it filled with work-shops, where steam-engines are whizzing, and t 62 ABOUT NEW YORK where, from morning to night, men and women, and little children, too, are driving their work, and are making every kind of thing, as fast as ever they can. Such is hfe in New York. Then I warn you not to come here to be idle — you cannot do it — you must work or die. Whenever you do come, go to Chatham street, and look up Baxter street, and then walk up along ft ^■■il-.^;iv lit" ' ' ■■ iiiiii ABOUT NEW YORK. 63 it, till you are satisfied that a great city is a dirty, dreadful place. I went through that street last win- ter, when the snow lay in it — ^thrown up from the sidewalks, and off the roofs — five feet deep. Piles of filth and garbage were thrown up in front of the shops and houses, and when the sun shone out, the melting snows ran into the cellars, and the air reeked with the vile smells. But in that street families are crowded, and there little children are born, are dirty, and die. But, then, it is not only the pavement, and the sidewalks, and the houses that make up the streets — there is also a street below the street. Under the sidewalks are vaults in which coal is kept, and in many cases where steam-engines and machinery are at work. Then in the middle of the street, under the pavement, are large iron pipes, in which water and gas are carried over the city. From these, branches go into every house. But then under that again are large brick sewers, which carry off the waste water and some filth from the streets, and empty it into the river. 64 ABOUT NEW YORK. N'ow, it is easy enough to see that to build these « streets, and to keep them in order, and to clean them (which is paid for, but never done), costs some money. Where does it come from? Why, the people of New York pay six millions a year in taxes, which goes to pay an army of office- holders — many good fat jobs — the entertainment of great men who come home from Europe ; to sustain our admirable schools ; and a little of it gets laid out on the streets of New York. THE PRISONS. *' They've nab'd him!" said Bill, one morning early when he came back from the market, " they've nab'd him, and I tell you what, he'll catch it! he'll swing !" I was a boy then, as you remember, and I could not tell what he meant, so I said : "Who is he — and what's that they've done to him?" " Why, they've caught him — grabbed liim — the ABOUT NEW YORK. 65 fellow who stabbed the sailor last night ; and I guess he'll swing." This astonished me greatly ; for in Mayford it was not the custom to stab sailors, nights, and it made my flesh creep to think of the knife going into the man. I said : "Oh, Bill— is he dead? What did he stab him for — and what will tliey do with the man who did it — and where did they catch him ? Who caught him — and where is he now ? Tell me all about it, Bill." "So I will," said Bill, "if you won't be in such a hurry. Why you see they had been to sea to- gether in the same ship, and were in different watches, and they did not like one another over- much all along, and this fellow who was stabbed was a sneak, the other man said, and peached and lied to the mate, and got this other fellow tied up, and there was trouble between them, and so this other fellow who stabbed the fellow, he swore that when they got ashore he'd make him pay for 66 ABOUT NEW YORK. it. So last night they met in Jerry Grain's dance- house, up here in Water street, and they were a good deal in liquor, and after some words they got high, and before you could say ' Jack Robinson' they grappled one another, and right off tliis other fellow had his knife in his belly." ''And is he dead, Bill?" "No, not yet; but he's bled a good deal. Well, then he broke out and run, and they shouted ABOUT NEW YORK. 67 'Murder! Murder!' and down the watch came after the damage was done, and this morning they nab'd him, and have got him safe in the jug, and I guess he'll swing. '^ I was not used to Bill's slang, and I said: ** What is the jug?'^ "The prison, boy — the jail." This story made me feel very uncomfortable, and I did not eat much breakfast; for I kept thinking of the bloody man nigh dead, and of the sailor who had stabbed him, in jail ; and I began to think New York was not so pleasant a place as Mayford after all. I knew that the sailor who stabbed him was sorry now he was sober ; and I felt sorry for himj and I knew that if he did not "swing" (be hanged) he would have to be shut up a long time in prison. Those prisons are not pleasant places, though they are infinitely better now than they used to be ; for once they were the dirtiest places, infested with vermin, where men and women were crowded to- 68 ABOUT NEW YORK. gether like cattle in a rail-car. In those ' ' good old times,'' as some people call them, any kind of cruelty and brutality was thought good enough for a criminal, and men were apt to forget that they were fellow-creatures who had been badly brought up, and, in most cases, were the victims of drink. New York has two principal prisons. The great one is on Blackwell's Island in the East river, which you will see as you go past it in the steam- boat. It is a large, square, central building, of stone, with two immense, long wings filled with narrow windows, and every window crossed with iron bars. I went to visit it one day, and I found that through these long wings there were cells, in each one of which was one prisoner. These cells were about eight feet long and six feet wide ; they contained an iron bedstead and mattress, and per- haps a chair — but no more. AU along the walls was the passage-way, so that none of these cells came to the windows, and no prisoner could look out on the grass or the sky. There they stayed ABOUT NEW YORK. 69 behind their grated iron doors, except when they were marched out to work. These cells are of solid stone, and to keep them clean the beds are taken out once a week, and the floors and walls are thoroughly whitewashed. One of the first things they do with a prisoner is to wash him up clean, cut his hair, and put on a prison dress, which is made of different colored stuffs, and is supposed to hinder their running away ; though, with the guards and sentinels all about, I do not see how they can get away. They are kept at work, quarrying and hew- ing stone mostly. I saw them marched out in squads to get their dinners ; about twenty-five in a squad, in Indian file, close up as they can walk. Thus they are marched by the wardens to the kitchen, where each man receives a good mess, and then they are marched back and locked in their cells to eat it. That's prison life at Blackwell's Island, and I decided that it was pleasanter to live on * ' Clap- boar d-hiU farm" at May ford. One of the curious things is, that the sickly ones 70 ABOUT NEW YORK. get well in prison, and I wonder whether it is because they are cut off from sweetmeats, and pies, and cakes, and rum, and candy, and tobacco, and are obhged to eat moderately of good, wholesome food. The principal city prison is " The Tombs" — as it is called — in Centre street ; though there are THE TOMBS. ABOUT NEW YORK. 71 some others, all of which are a sort of receiving prisons, where prisoners are kept until they are discharged or sentenced. Any one will notice in Centre street a heavy granite building, in the Egyptian style — that is " the Tombs." The warden allowed me to go through it. At nearly every cell-grating I found a poor fellow in his cage, with his face to the bars, try- ing to get some amusement. Some of them had friends to see them, most of whom were nice-looking women, their wives, or sisters, or sweethearts, I suppose. I asked one pleasant- looking, lonesome face, *'if he was almost tired of it ?" He said, " Yes, yes!" Then I said, '' What are you here for — fighting or getting drunk ?" " Ko, sir ; I stole some boot-legs." '' Why?" "Why," he said, "I had no money, and so I did it ; but I never did so before," and then he went and got for me a recommendation from a Mr. Walker, with whom he had lived as gardener, saying he was a 72 ABOUT NEW YORK. ''sober, honest man;" and I have no doubt he was till he got into bad ways in New York. He was a German, and he said to me — " The man has got the boot-legs, and he promised to let me out to-morrow. Do you think he will let me out to-morrow ?" '' I hope so, I am sure," I said ; "for then you can get out into the country to some farm, where you can earn an honest living." "Yes, yes," he replied, "that's what I'll do. I know where I shall go." " Well," I said, " don't forget ; good-by." "Good-by." One sailor there, was rigging a little ship beautifully. He must have been very ingenious ; for the wall of his cell had drawings on it of "Dr. Adams," " My Father and my Brother," a picture of the Royal Palace at Copenhagen, and other such things. Mrs. Foster, the matron, who had been there eleven years, showed me the women's cells, in some of which lay women dead drunk on the floors, just brought in. ABOUT NEW YORK. 73 There were about a hundred women shut up there for ten days, all for drunkenness, and some of them were handsome, and some old women. Poor women, I thought, how dreadful it would have been to see my old mother there. THE POLICE. When I first went to New York, *' Old Hays" was the great thief-catcher ; and he was as famous a man out of New York and in it as Napoleon Bona- parte. He was a keen, wiry fellow, and what is more, he knew all the tricks, and turns, and ways, and haunts of the old rogues, who prefer to live by stealing rather than work. "Set a thief to catch a thief, ^' is an old motto, and whether Hays had ever been "light-fingered" — as some said — or not, he knew how to catch the rogues. He had thieves in his pay, no doubt, who would tell him what he wanted to know. Indeed, Old Haj^s knew every thief in town, and the police now know them well. 74 ABOUT NEW YORK. ''Why don't they catch 'em, then," some boys may cry, ''and shut 'em up?" It must be remembered that a man cannot be clapped into prison until he does some deed against law. Now, although Old Hays walked about and saw plenty of men he knew to be rogues, and spoke with them, yet he could not touch them till he learned that they had committed some theft. Then it was a contest of wits between Old Hays and them, and the smartest won. The rogues all knew Hays, and knew that they must keep out of his way. It is almost impossible for the perpetrator of any large theft to escape now, unless the articles stolen are gold and silver, and even then it is not easy. So poor had the business of burglary grown, that, when the news of the California gold-disco- veries reached here, forty thieves bought a schooner, and sailed for the modern Ophir, where, by thieving, gambling, and being elected to office, they have ABOUT NEW YORK. 75 thriven exceedingly. There are men of great talent among the thieves, and they take as much pride in a bold or a brilliant and successful rob- bery as a boy does in being the best swimmer in town, or girl in having worked a sampler con- taining the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Command- ments. You may see these first-class thieves, now and then, with a certain swash-buckler elegant air, in Broadway, and other pubHc places ; there is apt to be a good deal of watch-chain and shirt- bosom finery about these gentry ; but, now and then, there is one too shrewd to expose himself in that way. It is curious to see how many ways they take to swindle. One of their most successful is what is called the " Confidence-game. '' This may be understood by the following, which has lately taken place here : Mr. Fred. Griffing is part owner of Gibbs' patent rifle. A well-dressed man called upon him at his office in William street, and introduced himself as Lieu- 76 ABOUT NEW YORK. tenant-Colonel George Marmaduke Reeves, of the Royal British army. He stated that he was agent for the British Government for the purchase of improved fire-arms, and had made a report favor- able to another rifle, but would be glad to exam- ine the Gibbs rifle. All this was very fine, and Mr. Griffing, finding this elegant gentleman belonged to one of the first families of England, invited him to his house, and treated him with distin- guished hospitality. Lieutenant-Colonel Reeves lived at the Clarendon Hotel, and was in no haste about buying his two hundred thousand rifles, and the patent-right for England at $100,000 ; not at all, for he wished full time for examination. Mr. Griffing called upon him at the hotel and found him sick, and that he had been robbed of £120 ; and was much in want of $100, which Mr. Griffing, in view of the sale of two hundred thousand rifles and the patent-right at $100,000, was very willing to lend to Colonel Reeves, a member of one of the aristocratic families of England. ABOUT NEW YORK. 77 Lieutenant-Colonel Reeves did not wish to put his. friend to any inconvenience, but finally accepted the small loan. He also took one of the best rifles, and, having tested it thoroughly, informed Mr. Griffing that he was highly delighted with its performance, and should report in its favor to his government. He also informed him that it would be a convenience if Mr. Griffing would make him a loan of $200 ; and that, as he must go to Nova Scotia to see Sir Gaspard Le Marchant, to get him to approve of the report, he would need some $300 more ; all of which Mr. Fred. Griffing advanced to him. Before receiving it, Lieutenant- Colonel Reeves deposited, with Mr. Griffing's law- yer, a copy of his authority for making the pur- chase. He then departed, and Mr. Griffing felt secure of a fat contract. But, on the 30th of July, he was '* waked-up,'' by being told that Lieutenant-Colonel George Marmaduke Reeves, of the Royal British army, was no other than John W. McAlpine, a well-known thief, and confidence 78 ABOUT NEW YORK / man. The end of it wa&, that Mr. Fred. GrilBfing had enjoyed the intimate society of one of the / English aristocracy, and had lost his $600 ; and that Mr. Mc Alpine had had a good time at the Clarendon, had exercised his wits, and was lodged safely in the Tombs. The original of these confidence men is one ' ' Mr. ABOUT NEW YORK. 79 Jeremy Diddler," who, in the play, always holds out his hand, saying, in persuasive tones: ''Have you, sir, such a thing as a ten-pence about you?'^ I have said elsewhere that most of the oflfenses against good order are the result of drink, and grow out of the grog-shops, which stud every cor- ner of New York. But such incidents as these are quite common : and one cannot but think, if these young fellows would work as hard honestly as they do as rogues, they would make more money by it : — ''police intelligence. "Capture of Burglars. — Policeman Scott, of the Fifteenth Ward, observed, about eight o'clock on Thursday evening, three young men enter the dwelling of Mr. Duncan, No. 2 Washington square, and, sus- pecting them to be burglars, he procured the ser- vices of two other pohcemen, and followed them into the house. The trio, finding themselves pur- sued, fled to the roof, and thence jumped upon a tea-room in the rear, the distance being about 80 ABOUT NEW YORK. thirty feet. From the top of this room they were observed to leap upon the back piazza of the dweUing of Mr. Boorman, and there, being lame from the frightful attempts to escape which they had made, the officers captured them. The prison- ers gave their names as George Carr, William Duzan, and John Garvey, and were locked up in the station-house until yesterday morning, when Justice Davidson committed them to prison for trial. In their possession a large number of skeleton keys, and a fireman's badge, No. 999, which had been stolen, were found." It is stated, as a fact, that in Constantinople, the capital of Turkey (a city of about the same size as New York), they have but ninety policemen, and that crimes and offenses are nothing like so common as in New York, which has eleven hundred and seven policemen! Why is this ? Some may say, that one is a Mahometan and the other a Christian country; but that cannot be the reason. But it is true, that the ABOUT NEW YORK. 81 Mahometans are forbidden to drink wine and brandy, and New Yorkers are not ; and that there are not eleven hundred grog-shops in one ward in Constan- tinople, as there are in New York. It is also true, that in Turkey people are not so craving to get rich as in New York ; and are not tempted to steal from the time they are born. Now, when you go to New York, you will see the star-police about, on every corner during the day ; and, if you are exceedingly watchful, you will see one occasionally in the night. You may also see them marching in drill, as in the cut — a terror to evil-doers. 82 ABOUT NEW YORK. The cost of the poUce to the residents of New York is $812,559 27, nearly a miUion of dollars; which is paid out of the earnings of those who work. Now look at these figures : Thirty-six thousand two hundred and sixty-four persons were put into the city-prisons last year (1855), and five thousand one hundred and ninety- seven were sent to the penitentiary at Blackwell's Island. The cost to the city of New York, for prisons, almshouses, and hospitals, in that year, was over seven hundred and ninety-seven thousand dollars. What has brought these people to prison ; for they did not want to go? Two things, mainly : first, stealing ; second, grog- shops. This is the report of the warden : Number received whose habits were tem- perate 3,561 Number received whose habits were intem- perate 32,703 ABOUT NEW YORK 83 Those who wish to get to ' ' the Tombs" will begin, therefore, to drink beer and brandy. I shall not. Those who wish to pay a milhon of dollars a year for prisons will sustain grog-shops. I shall not. NEWSPAPERS. One day, Bill brought in a pretty dirty-looking newspaper, and sat down in the cabin of the ''Golden Grocer'^ to read it. He could not read very well, 84 ABOUT NEW YORK. to be sure, but he could read, and he could write, and he could cipher, for he was a New England boy, where, however poor a boy is, he learns those tilings (and more) at the free-school. There they attend to the three "R's" — as some wag said — "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic." So Bill read and I listened. "Awful Ca-c-a-1-cal — what is this word?'^ I looked over the paper and I said — "Calamity, Bill — awful calamity — that's what it is — awful calamity." **Well, well," said Bill, "that'll do— I ain't deaf ; it's no use hollering ' awful calamity' that way ; I could have found it out." You see he was a little pestered because I could read so much better than he could. So I sat down and he read along aloud to me : "Awful Calamity. — Last week our vicinity was visited by a fearful tempest. About five o'clock of Wednesday, a heavy cloud came rolling up in the West. In an hour it spread away north and south, ABOUT NEW YORK. 85 and began to lighten and thunder some. Then we heard a rushing sound, and, shortly after, the trees near our town began to bend and wave in the wind. Animals and stock were strangely frightened, and ran about. In a few moments we knew the reason why. A terrific whirlwind passed through the woods close to our town, and laid everything low ; trees were torn up by the roots, and trunks and branches were twisted off. The path of the hurricane was about a quarter of a mile wide. Where it crossed the river it scooped up the water, and fish were found lying about in the fields. Roofs were blown off, and houses were blown down ; nothing in its track escaped. Every house on 'Squire Hobbs' plantation was blown down ; his wife was badly hurt, and four of his negroes were killed. We expect to hear of much destruction, though we are thankful that our town escaped," etc. So Bill read on and I listened. But let us see what a wonderful thing a N"ew York newspaper has now come to be ; and bear it in mind that in New York city alone there are 86 ABOUT NEW YORK. now published some two hundred periodicals, of which twelve are daily papers. What do these daily papers furnish to every man in the city before his breakfast? Here is a brief list — (the Tribune, Times, and Herald contain almost the same quantity of matter). THE CONTENTS. 1st. Four hundred advertisements — ^of every kind — offering to sell all kinds of things, from a frigate to a tooth-pick ; wanting to buy, wanting to let, want- ing situations, wanting information, and what not. 2d. News by telegraph, from every quarter of the country, of what has happened up to three hours before the paper goes to press. 3d. The debates in Congress up to midnight. 4th. The news from Europe, and letters from Turkey, and Sweden, and China, and Timbuctoo, 5th. Able editorials, hot from the brains and pens of able editors, which contain more talent than most books. ABOUT NEW YORK. 87 6th. Reports of meetings and speeches, of murders and rows, of fires and fights, of operas and plays, of police and prisons ; and of all kinds of things which have gone on in the city for twenty-four hours. 7th. Law intelligence from all the courts. 8th. Marine intelligence from the hundreds of ves- sels that have arrived and sailed. 9th. Commercial intelligence, about money, and goods, and stocks, and bonds. 10th. Letters from city and country correspondents, telling of abuses, and news, and watering-places, etc. 11th. Terrible doings in Kansas. 12th. Literary intelligence about books, authors, etc., etc. And all this various matter, as Mr. Parton tells us in his Life of Horace Greeley, would make up into a book of over 400 printed pages. Now, how is it all got together in the space of one short day? Near one hundred and fifty men are engaged (some for a part and others all the time) in 88 ABOUT NEW YORK. collecting it. In this way, there are some forty paid correspondents, who write letters from every part of the world ; some fifty collectors of telegraphic news in all parts of this country ; some fifteen men who spend their whole time in getting news in every part of the city ; some fifteen more in collecting marine news ; and besides these, there are some twelve editors to each of these wonderful daily papers. So much for the matter ; now what is done with it? HOW IT IS PRINTED. Up all this written news is sent to the fiftli story, where the room is filled with fonts of type, at which are working the printers as silently as if they were made of iron, and you hear nothing but the click, click of the type as they set them up. ^N'igh seventy men are employed here all the long night. Most boys have heard of the "Printer's Devil" — the little boy covered with ink and dirt, who runs of errands and does all kinds of odd jobs, is called the " Devil." Some say he got this ABOUT NEW YORK 89 name because that the authors always said, when the boy came for copy before it was ready — "The Devil 1'^ Well, the matter is set up, and then it is sent down under ground — under the pavement — where is a steam-engine, and a monstrous and wonderful printing-press. Upon this the types are arranged, 90 ABOUT NEW YORK. and when all is ready, the paper is placed, and the steam is let on, and to work the mighty engine goes like lightning, and the printed sheets are sped off, from ten to thirty thousand in an hour. Wonderful, isn't it? Then they are seized and folded, and away they are sent all over the country through the mails, and all over the city by hundreds of newsboys, and every man gets his newspaper before breakfast. And this newspaper, which we sit down and read so quietly, has enlisted the services of some two hundred and fifty men ; and, to make the single issue, has taken some two hundred days' work ; and to print the edition of 30,000, has taken some fifty cart-loads of paper. The cost per week is some six thousand dollars, which will be three hundred and twelve thousand dollars a year ; and yet, we buy the newspaper all complete for two cents ! Such is a newspaper now — and a hundred and fifty years ago it was printed on a sheet the size of a letter. ABOUT NEW YORK. 91 THE WATER- WORKS. One day a man driving a cart, loaded with a large cask, came along the dock, and said to Bill: "Hullo! you, there! want some water?" "No, thank^ee ; not by a plaguy sight," sang out Bill, in his rough way. "Why, BiU," said I, "does he sell water?" "Yes, indeed," said he; "lots of it; he gets a cent a pail ; for the water in these 'ere pumps down town is mighty strong of lime and salt, and has a sort of doctor 's-stufif taste ; you jest go up to the pump there, and try it ; you jest go." So I went ; and sure enough, it was so bad that I spit it out, quick enough. This seemed queer to me ; for at Mayford, when I wanted good, sweet water, I got it out of a clean, deep well, down at the bottom of which I could see my own face, as clear as in a mirror ; and it was kept clean by a great speckled trout, that I myself had caught 92 ABOUT NEW YORK when he was httle, and put in there. Once in a while, he would get in the bucket when I drew it up ; but, after looking at him, back I put him, and I don't know but he may be growing there yet. ;.J lM-;-.^tr ^^^§1^>'> . 'tv/^v'' It is so easy in Mayford to get good water to drink, that I had never thought how good it was, and how starved for it I should be if I had to drink from the New York pumps. Nor had I ever thought how much water a half million of people, crowded together in the lower part of New York island, would use ; nor had I ever asked myself — Where do they get it? ABOUT NEW YORK. 93 But I can tell you, ''Schoolfellows," that if it happen that you should go across the plains to California, or across the deserts to Timbuctoo, or are caught in a storm at sea, and your water is so spent that you can't have, say more than half- a-pint a day — then you will learn to know what a delicious drink it is that j^ou have in your wells all over l^ew England, which you draw out with your '*old oaken buckets,'' in bright summer days. Well, the time came when more water must be had, or New York must cease to grow ; and a ''Company" of men, called the " Manhattan Water Company," were allowed to put up steam-pumps in the upper part of the city, and to build reser- voirs, and to lay pipes in the streets, and to sell water. But, by-and-by, so many people collected here, that more water must be had ; and it was decided that a river must be made to flow into the city, so that all could drink. The little streams flowed along under shadowy trees, and the trees whispered to one another, and 94 ABOUT NEW YORK. kissed one another across the water, and the sun shone down through the trees into the deep pools, and showed the clear, sandy bottom, and the yellow perch and beautiful trout watching there for flies ; and whenever these streams came to a rocky place they never hesitated, but, dashing along, down they went — Rumble, and jumble, and tumble, Hip ! Hop ! ! Drop ! ! ! Whop ! ! ! ! Stop ! ! ! ! ! Till they got themselves down to the bottom ! That's the way those streams did ; and the cattle came down to them to drink ; and the boys came slyly along, and now and then hooked out a fish ; and the girls came and gathered pond-lilies ; and the streams had no idea of ever doing anything but what they had always done — run on down to the great Hudson. But one day, along their banks came a small party of men, and they caught no fish, and they gathered no lilies ; for they were "a committee" from the very reverend Board of Alderman of New York — serious fellows, judges of good dinners, and ABOUT NEW YORK. 95 turtle-soup, and fat ''jobs" — and they walked along in their black coats, by the side of these murmuring streams, and one said, ''Hum! This is too little. '^ And another said, "Hum! This is too muddy.'^ And another said, "Hum! Let's taste this." And then he said, ' ' Hum ! Methinks a drop of brandy would improve it." And then they all laughed out — "Haw! haw! haw!" — there in the country, as loud as they pleased — that Committee, the Fathers of the city. But finally they came to the clear and deep " Croton ;" and they stood there and looked at it ; and then they all said : "This will do!" "Will it though?" murmured the Croton, as it ran away down between the trees, and dashed along among the rocks. But one day a gang of men came there, and they cut away at the trees, and dug away at the rocks, and threw out the dirt in a surprising manner ; and the Croton said : "What's this?— what's this?" But to work they kept ; and they dug, and 96 ABOUT NEW YORK. blasted, and hammered, and masoned, and more and more the Croton wondered, as they built out the strong stone wall across it, till at last the finishing course was laid, and the Croton said : ''Well, I'm dammed!" And sure enough, it was dammed across, with a wall as strong as the walls of Babylon ; and thenceforth it was to run no more under the shadowy trees, no more among the dashing rocks ; but down through a dark aqueduct, built of solid masonry, and through iron tubes, and over the High Bridge at Harlem, until it poured itself into a great reservoir on Xew York island, thirty-eight miles from its dam. Thirty millions of gallons a day are poured into the reservoirs, and thence through iron pipes, under the streets, are carried into every house in Xew York. And all this water- works has cost the city $22,000,000. In our squares we have superb fountains, which used to play ; but alas, they play no more, never, now. Why? Because this thirty milhon of gallons ABOUT NEW YORK. 97 only supplies the consumption and waste of the people. Just think, for a moment, what would become of all the people in ISTew York, if their water were to fail them for one day ! THE RETURN. Well, after ten days spent in New York, the sloop having sold all her potatoes, and taken in 98 ABOUT NEW YORK. various hogsheads of molasses, and qumtals of fish, and boxes of candles, to carry to the stores at Mayford, we prepared to return to our old town. Now, I had had a good time there with Bill Shelly, and had seen lots of things (the half of which I have not told) ; but I had not seen my Uncle Tom, who used to visit us in gigs. Why? Be- cause he was away somewhere on his business? But I was glad to go back, once more, to see my dear old mother, and to have a race with the boys, and to learn my lessons, and I said — '' Jerry !'^ Jerry cocked up his ears, and wondered what I was going to say now. "Jerry, hurrah for May ford — hurrah, Jerry!'' Jerry jumped about and barked, as though he thought it would be fine fun once more to get there, and chase the rabbits and squirrels. Well, before we went, I ran up to a shop that I had seen, and bought two loaves of twist, and four round New Year's cakes, and these I decided ABOUT NEW YORK. 99 to carry to my mother. Beside these, I had nought her a very nice pair of scissors that I knew she wanted, and a plaid handkerchief that I knew she would like. Then I had bought for myself a very fine fish-line, and' a long reed pole, and a splen- did knife with four blades, a file, a boat-hook, and a corkscrew in it, which I expected to find very useful, though, to tell the truth, it was rather heavy. I had also bought a beautiful ivory pin- cushion, to screw upon a table, such as I had seen ladies use. What was I going to do with it? I guess, if you had known Lizzy Loper as well as I did, you would not ask that question. If you had seen her blue eyes, and flaxen curls, and pink cheeks, and white teeth — dear me! what was I going to do with it, sure enough ? Well, we pulled and hauled, and got the Gold- en Grocer into the stream, and hoisted sail, and away we went with the wind and tide up the East River, and passed the ship-yards and beau- 100 ABOUT NEW YORK. tiM country-seats, and through Hell-gate, and past Throg's-neck, and then we opened into the blue Sound. 0, it was beautiful, and we dashed along quite finely. Jerry and I were in the bows, and I felt so glorious that I began to shout and sing away ; and Jerry, he began to bark as though he saw that dog again, Vay out there at sea. Suddenly, I heard Bill say — "Hallo, you Phil there — I say !'^ ''Well, what?'^ '' I say, if you holler that way, and make such a rumpus, you'll frighten somebody.'^ "Who, now?" " The mermaids, maybe.'' "Pooh, Bill; there ain't any mermaids now-a- days, you know." ' ' IsTo mermaids ! You jest wait till you've been up and down the Sound as much as I have, and seen them sitting on their tails, down there by Riker's Island, a-combing their sea-green hair, and singing Mere in a doleful but very sweet voiee. ABOUT NEW YORK. 101 Tou jest wait till you've seen and heard "em, and then see if jou'U say there are no mermaids.'^ *' Xow, Bill/' said I, rather staggered, as I crept up to him ; " now, Bill" — and then I saw a little twinkle, and I caught hold of him, and then he laughed away — ''Haw — haw — haw!" and I laughed, too. *' Hi — hi — hi!*' both of us as loud as we could. 'Mermaids?" said I. "Pooh!" " TTell," said Bill, "you jest look in the cabin, and you'll find mermaids there.' ^ And sure enough there was a woman who look- ed sick, and a nice little girl with her, who took care of her. I had not seen them come aboard, and I am not now going to tell about Julia Ellis. Bill showed me how to bait rcfy hook, and all one day I fished with it from the side of the sloop, in the deep blue salt water. Did I catch anything? Indeed I did — one good strong horse- mackerel, and that was all ; but, I tell you what, that made my heart beat and my eyes sparkle. 102 ABOUT NEW YORK. As we came near Mayford, I could see the steeples and the brown roofs of the houses ; and both Jerry and I thought we should fly as we began to snuff the scents of home. As soon as we landed, I ran across the lots, and Jerry ran, too ; anr^ we scrambled over the fences, and raced through jhe back garden, and mto the kitchen of our house, and there was my dear mother waiting for us ! She opened her arms, and I jumped into them, and then I was glad that I was at home in Mayford. JAY IRVING COLLECTION I K P 7