University of California Berkeley 
 
 The Theodore H. Koundakjian 
 
 Collection 
 of American Humor 
 
THE 
 
 LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS WATER LOTS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER SKETCHES OF THE TIMES. 
 
 BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. 
 
 The earth hath bubbles as the water has, 
 And these are of them. 
 
 WITH ETCHINGS BY JOHNSON. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 LEA & BLANCHARD, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO CAREY & CO. 
 
 1839. 
 
ENTERED, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 
 LEA & BLANCUAKD, in the District Court for the Eastern District of 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 G. P. SCOTT, PRINTER, 
 
 New York. 
 
f'cprri LIBRARY 
 
 TO 
 
 ROBERT W. WEIR, ESQ., 
 
 THESE PAGES ARE 
 INSCRIBED, 
 
 AS A MARE OF ESTEEM AND REGARD, 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
VtS 3KV 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE author of this volume does not apprehend, that, 
 among the objections which may be brought against it by 
 those redoubtable personages, the critics, its brevity will be 
 included. A word of explanation, however, may be neces 
 sary to account for its somewhat attenuated dimensions. It 
 was not until the greater part of the work had been put to 
 press, that the author found he had fettered himself by the 
 title of his volume within a very limited range of selection 
 from his miscellaneous prose productions. " Hits at the 
 Times" was not a designation sufficiently comprehensive to 
 embrace sketches of an opposite character, which were far 
 more abundant, and would have swollen the volume to an 
 ambitious size. In one instance only, has there been a de 
 parture from the plan; and for that, the solicitation of many 
 friends, must be the plea and the extenuation. 
 
 With this brief preface, these gathered fragments, which 
 separately have been received with general favour at the 
 hands of the public, are submitted, in the hope that they 
 
 will meet with indulgence in their present form. 
 
 1* 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN AND HIS WATER LOTS, .13 
 
 THE MONOPOLY AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE, . 25 
 
 LETTERS FROM THE SPRINGS 
 
 LETTER No. 1, . . . . 47 
 
 LETTER No. 2, . . . . .59 
 
 LETTER No. 3, . . . .79 
 
 A LETTER AND A POEM, . . . .87 
 
 LEAVES FROM AN EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO- 
 GROUNDS FOR A DIVORCE, . . .97 
 WANT OF CONFIDENCE, . . . 101 
 EFFECTS OF INTERRUPTION, . . .103 
 THE HUNCHBACK, . 105 
 MAJOR NOAH, . . . . .108 
 THE ACTORS AND THE BROKERS, . 112 
 HILLSON AND PAUL PRY, . . .116 
 ORAL ANECDOTES OF WELL-KNOWN INDIVIDUALS, 117 
 
 MR. BEVERLEY LEE, OR THE DAYS or THE SHIN-PLAS 
 TERS, . . . . .127 
 
ETCHINGS. 
 
 Page 
 
 MONSIEUR POOPOO AND HIS CUSTOMERS, . . 14 
 
 A SCENE AT THE EXCHANGE, , . . 16 
 
 THE PROPERTY DELIVERED, . . . .18 
 
 THE WATER PRIVILEGES, ... 20 
 
 No GROUND FOR A COMPLAINT, . . .22 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND, .... 24 
 
 THE FLYING DUTCHMAN, . . . .30 
 
 THE NEW TURN-OUT, . . . . 33 
 
 THE PONDEROUS HANDBILL, . . . .36 
 
 A TAVERN SCENE, .... 39 
 
 REMOVING THE DEPOSITES, . . . .42 
 A BONE TO PICK, . . .45 
 
 THE STOUT GENTLEMAN IN BLACK, . . .51 
 
 THE TRAVELLED DANDY, .... 52 
 
 LOVE'S CONTRASTS, . . . . .53 
 
 A FOREIGNER OF DISTINCTION, ... 54 
 
 VlSITERS AT THE SPRINGS, . . . .55 
 
 THE FLUTING GENTLEMAN, ... 67 
 THE GENTLEMAN FROM CAHAWBA AND THE RED NIGHT 
 CAP, ...... 75 
 
 THE MINERAL WATER DRINKER, . . .86 
 
 CROSSING THE HUDSON IN A MIST, . . 136 
 
 A STREET VIEW DURING THE PANIC, . . .138 
 
THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS WATER LOTS. 
 
THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS WATER LOTS. 
 
 Look into those they call unfortunate, 
 
 And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise. Young. 
 
 Let wealth come in by comely thrift, 
 And not by any foolish shift: 
 
 Tis haste 
 
 Makes waste : 
 
 Who gripes too hard the dry and slippery sand 
 Holds none at all, or little, in his hand. Herrick. 
 
 Let well alone. Proverb. 
 
 How much real comfort every one might enjoy, 
 if he would be contented with the lot in which 
 heaven has cast him, and how much trouble would 
 be avoided if people would only "let well alone." 
 A moderate independence, quietly and honestly 
 procured, is certainly every way preferable even to 
 
14 
 
 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 immense possessions achieved by the wear and tear 
 of mind and body so necessary to procure them. 
 Yet there are very few individuals, let them be 
 doing ever so well in the world, who are not always 
 straining every nerve to do better ; and this is one 
 of the many causes why fajlures in business so 
 frequently occur among us. The present genera 
 tion seem unwilling to " realize" by slow and sure 
 degrees ; but choose rather to set their whole hopes 
 upon a single cast, which either makes or mars them 
 for ever ! 
 
 Gentle reader, do you remember Monsieur Poopoo ? 
 He used to keep a small toy-store in Chatham, near 
 the corner of Pearl-street. You must recollect him, 
 of course. He lived there for many years, and was 
 
AND HIS WATER LOTS. 15 
 
 one of the most polite and accommodating of shop 
 keepers. When a juvenile, you have bought tops 
 and marbles of him a thousand times. To be sure 
 you have ; and seen his vinegar-visage lighted up 
 with a smile as you flung him the coppers ; and 
 you have laughed at his little straight queue and 
 his dimity breeches, and all the other oddities that 
 made up the every-day apparel of my little French 
 man. Ah, I perceive you recollect him now. 
 
 Well, then, there lived Monsieur Poopoo ever 
 since he came from "dear, delightful Paris," as he was 
 wont to call the city of his nativity there he took in 
 the pennies for his kickshaws there he laid aside 
 five thousand dollars against a rainy day there he 
 was as happy as a lark and there, in all human 
 probability, he would have been to this very day, 
 a respected and substantial citizen, had he been 
 willing to " let well alone." But Monsieur Poopoo 
 had heard strange stories about the prodigious rise 
 in real estate ; and, having understood that most of 
 his neighbours had become suddenly rich by specu 
 lating in lots, he instantly grew dissatisfied with 
 his own lot, forthwith determined to shut up shop, 
 turn everything into cash, and set about making 
 money in right-down earnest. No sooner said than 
 done ; and our quondam storekeeper a few days 
 afterward attended an extensive sale of real estate, 
 at the Merchants' Exchange. 
 
16 
 
 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 There was the auctioneer, with his beautiful and 
 inviting lithographick maps all the lots as smooth 
 and square and enticingly laid out as possible and 
 there were the speculators and there, in the midst 
 of them, stood Monsieur Poopoo. 
 
 " Here they are, gentlemen," said he of the ham 
 mer, " the most valuable lots ever offered for sale. 
 Give me a bid for them ?" 
 
 " One hundred each," said a bystander. 
 
 " One hundred !" said the auctioneer, " scarcely 
 enough to pay for the maps. One hundred going 
 and fifty gone ! Mr. H. they are yours. A no 
 ble purchase. You'll sell those same lots in less 
 than a fortnight for fifty thousand dollars profit !" 
 
 Monsieur Poopoo pricked up his ears at this, and 
 
AND HIS WATER LOTS. 17 
 
 was lost in astonishment. This was a much easier 
 way certainly of accumulating riches than selling 
 toys in Chatham-street, and he determined to buy 
 and mend his fortune without delay. 
 
 The auctioneer proceeded in his sale. Other par 
 cels were offered and disposed of, and all the pur 
 chasers were promised immense advantages for their 
 enterprise. At last came a more valuable parcel 
 than all the rest. The company pressed around 
 the stand, and Monsieur Poopoo did the same. 
 
 " I now offer you, gentlemen, these magnificent 
 lots, delightfully situated on Long-Island, with valu 
 able water privileges. Property in fee title in 
 disputable terms of sale, cash deeds ready for 
 delivery immediately after the sale. How much for 
 them ? Give them a start at something. How 
 much ?" The auctioneer looked around ; there were 
 no bidders. At last he caught the eye of Monsieur 
 Poopoo, "Did you say one hundred, sir ? Beau 
 tiful lots valuable water privileges shall I say one 
 hundred for you ?" 
 
 " Oui, monsieur ; I will give you von hundred dol 
 lar a piece, for de lot vid de valuarble vatare priva- 
 lege ; Jest $a." 
 
 " Only one hundred a piece for these sixty valua 
 ble lots only one hundred going going going 
 gone!" ',>- 
 
 Monsieur Poopoo was the fortunate possessor. 
 
18 
 
 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 The auctioneer congratulated him the sale closed 
 and the company dispersed. 
 
 " Pardonnez moi, monsieur," said Poopoo, as the 
 auctioneer descended his pedestal, " you shall excusvz 
 moi, if I shall go to votre bureau, your counting-house, 
 ver quick to make every ting sure wid respec to de 
 lot vid de valuarble vatare privalege. Von leetle 
 bird in de hand he vorth two in de tree, Jest vrai 
 eh ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 "Veil den, allons." 
 
 And the gentlemen repaired to the counting-house, 
 where the six thousand dollars were paid, and the 
 deeds of the property delivered. Monsieur Poopoo 
 put these carefully in his pocket, and as he was 
 about taking his leave, the auctioneer made him a 
 
AND HIS WATER LOTS. 19 
 
 present of the lithographick outline of the lots, which 
 was a very liberal thing on his part, considering the 
 map was a beautiful specimen of that glorious art. 
 Poopoo could not admire it sufficiently. There were 
 his sixty lots, as uniform as possible, and his little 
 gray eyes sparkled like diamonds as they wandered 
 from one end of the spacious sheet to the other. 
 
 Poopoo's heart was as light as a feather, and he 
 snapped his ringers in the very wantonness of joy as 
 he repaired to Delmonico's, and ordered the first 
 good French dinner that had gladdened his palate 
 since his arrival in America. 
 
 After having discussed his repast, and washed it 
 down with a bottle of choice old claret, he resolved 
 upon a visit to Long-Island to view his purchase. 
 He consequently immediately hired a horse and gig, 
 crossed the Brooklyn ferry, and drove along the 
 margin of the river to the Wallabout, the location in 
 question. 
 
 Our friend, however, was not a little perplexed to 
 find his property. Everything on the map was as 
 fair and even as possible, while all the grounds about 
 him were as undulated as they could well be imagin 
 ed, and there was an elbow of the East-river thrust 
 ing itself quite into the ribs of the land, which seemed 
 to have no business there. This puzzled the French 
 man exceedingly ; and, being a stranger in those parts, 
 he called to a farmer in an adjacent field. 
 
20 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 "Mon ami, are you acquaint vid dis part of de 
 country eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, I was born here, and know every inch of 
 it." 
 
 " Ah, c'est bien, dat vill do," and the Frenchman 
 got oui of the gig, tied the horse, and produced his 
 lithographick map. 
 
 " Den maybe you vill have de kindness to show 
 me de sixty lot vich I have bought, vid de valuarble 
 vatare privalege ?" 
 
 The farmer glanced his eye over the paper. 
 
 " Yes, sir, with pleasure ; if you will be good 
 enough to get into my boat, I wUl row you out to them!" 
 
 " Vat dat you say, sare f" 
 
 "My friend," said the farmer, "this section of 
 
AND HIS WATER LOTS. 21 
 
 Long Island has recently been bought up by the 
 speculators of New- York, and laid out for a great 
 city ; but the principal street is only visible at low 
 tide. When this part of the East-River is filled up, 
 it will be just there. Your lots, as you will perceive, 
 are beyond it ; and are now all under water. 
 
 At first the Frenchman was incredulous. He 
 could not believe his senses. As the facts, however, 
 gradually broke upon him, he shut one eye, squinted 
 obliquely at the heavens the river the farmer 
 and then he turned away and squinted at them 
 all over again ! There was his purchase sure 
 enough ; but then it could not be perceived for 
 there was a river flowing over it ! He drew a 
 box from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, with an 
 emphatick knock upon the lid, took a pinch of snuff 
 and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before. 
 Poopoo was evidently in trouble, having " thoughts 
 which often lie too deep for tears ;" and, as his grief 
 was also too big for words, he untied his horse, 
 jumped into his gig, and returned to the auctioneer 
 in hot haste. 
 
 It was near night when he arrived at the auction- 
 room his horse in a foam and himself in a fury. 
 The auctioneer was leaning back in his chair, with 
 his legs stuck out of a low window, quietly smoking 
 a cigar after the labours of the day, and humming 
 the musick from the last new opera. 
 
22 
 
 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN 
 
 " Monsieur, I have much plaisir to fin you, chez 
 vous, at home." 
 
 " Ah, Poopoo ! glad to see you. Take a seat, old 
 boy." 
 
 " But I shall not take de seat, sare." 
 
 " No why, what's the matter ?" 
 
 " Oh, beaucoup de matter. I have been to see de 
 gran lot vot you sell me to-day." 
 
 " Well, sir, I hope you like your purchase ?" 
 
 " No, monsieur, I no like him*" 
 
 "I'm sorry for it ; but there is no ground for your 
 complaint." 
 
 " No, sare ; dare is no ground at all de ground 
 is all vatare !" 
 
 "You joke!" 
 
 " I no joke. I nevare joke ; je rfentends pa$ la rail- 
 
AND HIS WATER LOTS. 23 
 
 krie. Sare, voulez was have de kindness to give 
 me back de money vot I pay !" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 "Den vill you be so good as to take de East-River 
 off de top of my lot ?" 
 
 " That's your business, sir, not mine." 
 
 " Den I make von mauvaise affaire von gran mis 
 take!" 
 
 " I hope not. I don't think you have thrown your 
 money away in the land" 
 
 " No, sare ; but I tro it avay in de vatare!" 
 
 " That's not my fault." 
 
 ' Yes, sare, but it is your fault. You're von ver 
 gran rascal to swindle me out of de I' argent." 
 
 " Hollo, old Poopoo, you grow personal ; and if 
 you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, you must 
 go out of my counting-room." 
 
 " Vare shall I go to, eh ?" 
 
 " To the devil, for aught I care, you foolish old 
 Frenchman !" said the auctioneer, waxing warm. 
 
 " But, sare, I vill not go to de devil to oblige you !" 
 replied the Frenchman, waxing warmer. "You 
 sheat me out of all de dollar vot I make in Shathame- 
 street ; but I vill not go to de devil for all dat. I 
 vish you may go to de devil yourself you dem yan- 
 kee-doo-dell, and I vill go and drown myself, tout de 
 suite, right avay." 
 
 " You couldn't make a better use of your water 
 privileges, old boy !" 
 
24 THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN, ETC. 
 
 " Ah, misericorde ! Ah, mon dieu,je suis abime. I am 
 ruin ! I am done up ! I am break all into ten 
 sousan leetle pieces ! I am von lame duck, and I 
 shall vaddle across de gran ocean for Paris, vish 
 is de only valuarble vatare privilege dat is left me 
 d present!" 
 
 Poor Poopoo was as good as his word. He sailed 
 in the next packet, and arrived in Paris almost as 
 pennyless as the day- he left it. 
 
 Should any one feel disposed to doubt the veri 
 table circumstances here recorded, let him cross 
 the East River to the Wallabout, and farmer J****** 
 will row him out to the very place where the poor 
 Frenchman's lots still remain under water. 
 
THE MONOPOLY 
 
 AND 
 
 THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 
 
THE MONOPOLY 
 
 AND 
 
 THE PEOPLE'S LINE 
 
 He hears 
 
 On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
 A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
 Of public scorn. Milton. 
 
 Applause 
 
 Waits on success ; the fickle multitude, 
 
 Like the light straw that floats along the stream, 
 
 Glide with the current. Franklin. 
 
 Two of a trade can never agree. Proverb. 
 
 THE proprietors of steamboats, rail-roads and 
 stage-coaches, not unfrequently carry the spirit of 
 competition to a ruinous and ridiculous extent. A 
 few years ago, we went to Albany and were " found" 
 for half a dollar ! and it is within the recollection of 
 everybody that Gibbons, for a long period, run his 
 boats from New-York to New-Brunswick for twelve 
 and a half cents ! More recently, Mr. Vanderbilt, 
 
28 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 a large capitalist, and doubtless an enterprising man, 
 with a view of breaking down what has been deno 
 minated the " odious eastern monopoly," has placed 
 several swift and commodious steamers on the Bos 
 ton line, and you may now take a trip from New- 
 York to Providence for the trifling consideration of 
 one dollar, lawful currency ! Whether the publick 
 the misused, flattered, cajoled, long-suffering and 
 indulgent publick is ultimately benefited by these 
 reductions of the fare to an inadequate price, or 
 otherwise, is not for us to determine ; and we, there 
 fore, leave the investigation of the subject, now and 
 for ever, to those more skilled and curious in such 
 matters. Yet we have a right to an opinion; and, 
 as this is certainly a free country, we presume no 
 one will quarrel with us if we keep it entirely to 
 ourselves. In a crowded steamer, however, whose 
 deck and cabin are thronged with what the great 
 bard calls " all sorts of people," there is no more 
 comfort than there is said to be in a badly-governed 
 family of small innocents and antiquated maiden 
 ladies, on a washing-day ; when, the old ballad 
 tells us, all is topsy-turvy and most admired con 
 fusion. Yet we would not be understood as rais 
 ing our feeble voice in defence of any monopoly 
 under the sun ; but more especially that of steam 
 boats. Far be it from us. We are patriots ; but, 
 what is a greater evidence of our honesty and dis- 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 29 
 
 interestedness, we have no stock in them whatever ; 
 and, as we are nothing but a " waif upon the world's 
 wide common," or, in less figurative phraseology, 
 nothing but a poor devil of a weakly editor, we 
 never expect to have any ; unless our delinquent 
 subscribers should pay up their arrearages : or we 
 should draw a prize in the lottery, or some unknown 
 or unheard of rich relation should die, and unex 
 pectedly shower his bounties upon us ; or any other 
 unimaginable, improbable, and impossible thing 
 should occur, of which we have not the remotest 
 conception at this present writing. We, therefore, 
 of course, prefer a spirited and liberally managed 
 opposition in all cases, whenever the number of 
 travellers will warrant such an arrangement ; and 
 when mere angry feelings, jealousy, hatred, and all 
 uncharitableness, are not the governing motive and 
 groundwork of the competition. But we have often 
 noted, that the great contending parties have ge 
 nerally some concealed motive, some private end in 
 view, and that, while they are endeavouring, like 
 the Hibernian cats, to eat each other up " all up!" 
 they profess the most profound respect and regard 
 for that publick, which, in the main, they are con 
 stantly striving to humbug and overreach. The 
 publick, however, like a re-publick, is proverbially 
 ungrateful ; and, seeing the pains that people take 
 to impose upon each other, it does not hesitate, in its 
 
 B* 
 
30 
 
 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 turn, to impose upon everybody. Our reminiscences 
 furnish us with a case in point. 
 
 Not many years ago, there lived on Long-Island, 
 a jolly, well-to-do, honest, old Dutchman, who drove 
 a stage from Brooklyn to Jamaica for two dollars a 
 passenger. This had been the charge since Adam 
 was an urchin, or since the time whereof the memory 
 of man " runneth not to the contrary." It was sanc 
 tioned by immemorial usage, and had all the crust of 
 antiquity about it. Nobody thought of disputing the 
 matter. It was settled, like the laws of the Medes 
 and Persians, and was a thing not to be sacri 
 legiously meddled with, or altered on any account 
 whatever. The proprietor's great-grandfather had 
 driven the same route, and so had all his other ances 
 tors, and none of them had managed to realize more 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 31 
 
 than enough to make both ends meet when Christmas 
 came round. But it was left for these degenerate 
 days, and for modern innovators, to work wonderful 
 changes in the destinies of Jamaica, which was then 
 a mere dot on the unexplored map of Long-Island. 
 You might have held it in the hollow of your hand, 
 or Major Noah could have put it into his breeches 
 pocket. It has assumed vast consequence since 
 that period which was before the discovery of 
 lithography, unqestionably the most magnificent and 
 imposing art of modern times and is an incorpo 
 rated city in embryo ! with its mayor and its 
 aldermen its commodious edifices its steeples, 
 domes, and court-houses its spacious taverns and 
 its heaven-aspiring liberty-rods, and all the other 
 requisites of a thriving American metropolis ! If 
 the future greatness of Jamaica may be gathered 
 from the thousands of building-lots that have been 
 laid out and disposed of for slow notes of hand, and 
 if one may at all rely upon the prophecies of the 
 eloquent and disinterested speculators of Wall-street, 
 " who look into the seeds of time, and say which 
 place shall grow and which shall not," then is Ja 
 maica, without the shadow of a doubt, predestined 
 to become the capital of the world ! 
 
 Oh, Lithography ! let me apostrophize thee ! Thou 
 art indeed a mighty wizard and hast performed 
 more miracles in our day and generation than all 
 
32 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 the soothsayers, seers, and necromancers of the olden 
 time ! There is no obstacle that thou canst not 
 overcome no difficulty that thou canst not sur 
 mount ! Does a mountain oppose thy onward march 
 one wave of thy wand, and it hides its diminished 
 head and disappears for ever ! Is a valley too deep 
 and broad for thy lofty purposes another flourish 
 of thy potent staff, and lo ! it is as level as the plain ! 
 Is a river inconvenient to ford, and does it endeavour 
 to frustrate thy plans, thou hast but to will it and, 
 presto ! its waters recede, and the warm and genial 
 earth, beautifully checkered and converted into 
 streets, avenues, spacious squares and desirable 
 building-lots, remains in its stead ! Thou canst 
 people the wilderness for the woods, like those of 
 Birnam, will " unfix their earth-bound roots," and 
 move before thee and thou canst command the 
 " desert to bud and blossom like the rose," and it is 
 even so ! Thou canst found settlements, villages, 
 towns, and cities wherever thou listeth in the inte- 
 riour, by the running river, the quiet lake, or on the 
 more boisterous borders of the ocean? 'Tis all the 
 same to thee, Lithography. Thou canst do any 
 thing every thing all things on paper ! 
 
 Bat I am wandering from my subject; and must 
 take care that, in my admiration for the most sub 
 lime of all modern inventions always save and ex 
 cepting the " noble science of money-making" I do 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 33 
 
 not lose the reader as well as myself in the laby 
 rinths of imagination and metaphor. 
 
 In the course of time, travelling increased on the 
 Jamaica turnpike ; the Dutchman had his stage full 
 every trip, and began to thrive. But the star of his 
 good fortune, although it had risen clear and un 
 clouded, was not long in the ascendant; for, one 
 fine morning, there came another stage driver, the 
 owner of a new turn out, as fine as a fiddle, who put 
 in his claims for patronage. 
 
 He was a full-grown stripling, of little credit, but 
 some ready money, and he secretly resolved upon 
 bearing off the palm from the quiet, but covetous 
 Dutchman. At first he demanded the usual rates, 
 and divided the business with his old-established 
 rival ; but finding that he had less custom, that he 
 
34 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 was looked upon as an interloper, and that all faces 
 were set against him, he resolved to cut down the 
 fare to a single dollar : and he did so, greatly to the 
 satisfaction of the applauding multitude. 
 
 This was a sad blow to the prospects of the poor 
 old Dutchman, whose carriage was instantly desert 
 ed, all the fickle populace instinctively flocking to 
 the glossy vehicle of his adversary, who cracked his 
 whip in high glee as he dashed along the dusty and 
 unpaved streets of Brooklyn. At first Mynheer did 
 not know what to make of the matter, so he lighted 
 his pipe and looked to St. Nicholas for the solution 
 of a mystery, altogether too profound for his com 
 prehension. One day, however, a frfend unravelled 
 it to him, and suggested the propriety of a reduction 
 also of his price ; whereupon the whole truth flashed 
 upon him in the twinkling of an eye, and he instantly 
 resolved in defiance of the good examples of his fore 
 fathers, to humble himself to the insignificant fare of 
 his pestilent competitor. Now all was right again, 
 and things went on as swimmingly as before, until 
 the new-comer again lowered the fare called his 
 omnibus the " People's Line," and branded his op 
 ponent's " The Monopoly ;" upon which the Dutch 
 man flew into a violent passion, broke his pipe into 
 a thousand pieces, and swore by all the saints in the 
 calendar, that he would thereafter carry his passen 
 gers for nothing ! And so strange was his demeanor, 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 35 
 
 flying hither and yonder in a hurricane of hot haste 
 and hotter disdain, that all his neighbours stigmatis 
 ed him as the " Flying Dutchman ;" a name which 
 he has never been able to get clear of to this very 
 hour. 
 
 The " People's Line," not in the least disconcert 
 ed by this unexpected calamity, also came down to 
 nothing ! and painted on the panels of the carriage 
 the figure of a fiery old man addressing a multitude, 
 and begging them to ride in his carriage gratis, with 
 the motto, 
 
 " Nothing can come of nothing ; try again." 
 
 This was evidently intended as a hit at the " Flying 
 Dutchman," who retorted by staining the " Interlo 
 per," as he always persisted in designating the 
 " People's Line," with certain Dutch epithets, which 
 respect for our readers prevents us from translating 
 into veritable English. Fierce were the animosities 
 bitter the feuds and arduous the struggles that 
 ensued between the belligerents. Long they lasted, 
 and fatal promised to be the consequences to both. 
 Every expedient was resorted to ; but as neither 
 would yield an inch of ground to the other, they both 
 went on, season after season, running the stages at 
 their own expense, and annoying everybody who 
 would listen to them, with a full and particular re 
 cital of their wrongs, their wrath, and their wrang- 
 lings. At last, the owner of the " People's Line," 
 
36 
 
 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 fairly wearied out by the obstinacy and perseverance 
 of the redoubtable Dutchman, caused a mammoth 
 handbill to be struck off and posted from the East- 
 River to the Atlantic Ocean, in which he stated, in 
 ponderous capital letters, that he would not only 
 carry his passengers for nothing, but that he would 
 actually pay each and every one the sum of twenty- 
 five cents forgoing! To the unhappy Dutchman this 
 was the drop too much ; and it effectually did the 
 business for his now unpopular and detested " Mo 
 nopoly," which was denounced at every tavern by 
 the road side, as a paltry, mean, and "unconstitu 
 tional" concern, while the " People's Line" was 
 lauded to the third heavens for its liberality and 
 publick spirit. The Flying Dutchman flew no more. 
 His spirit was evidently broken as well as his pros- 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 37 
 
 pects, and his horses crawled daily to and from 
 Jamaica at a snail's pace, equally unmindful of whip 
 or rein evidently sympathizing in their master's 
 disappointment and discomfiture. Yet go the Dutch 
 man would he had become accustomed to the 
 occupation it was second nature to him ; and, as 
 he could not easily overcome the force of habit, he 
 preferred working for nothing and finding himself, to 
 relinquishing the road entirely to his indefatigable 
 annoyer. " His shirtless Majesty !" as some auda 
 cious poet has impertinently called the sovereign 
 people ! however, generally gave its countenance 
 and support to its own line, which scill kept up its 
 speed and its reputation* It speaks volumes 
 volumes, did I say ? it speaks ten thousand libraries 
 for the intelligence and good feeling of our loco 
 motive countrymen ; and, as faithful chroniclers, 
 we are bound to record the fact, that not a single 
 individual ever applied for the two shillings, that 
 had been so generously and disinterestedly tendered, 
 every one being actually contented with going the 
 whole distance gratis, and with being thanked into 
 the bargain ! 
 
 One day, however, a long, thin, lank-sided, ma 
 hogany-faced downeaster chanced to read the mam 
 moth bill with the ponderous capitals ; and without 
 a moment's hesitation, he decided upon bestowing 
 his corporeal substance snugly in the back seat of 
 
 c 
 
38 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 the " People's Line ;" and it so fell out that he was 
 the only passenger. 
 
 The down-easter was a talkative, prying, specu 
 lative, jimcrack of a fellow, who propounded more 
 questions in a single minute than one could answer 
 in a whole hour ; and, in less time than you could 
 say Jack Robinson, he was at the bottom of all the 
 difficulty, and in possession of every particular re 
 specting the rival lines. He was " free of speech 
 and merry ;" joked with the proprietor ; ridiculed 
 the flying Dutchman, called him a cockalorum, and 
 finally denounced him as an inflated, overgrown, 
 purse-proud capitalist, who advocated a system of 
 exclusive privileges contrary to the spirit of our 
 glorious institutions, and dangerous to the liberties 
 of the country ? and he even went so far as to re 
 commend that a town meeting should be immediately 
 called to put the old blockhead down, and banish 
 him from the sunshine of the publick favour forever ! 
 
 " I will put him down !" said the driver. 
 
 "And he shall stay^w?, when he is down!" replied 
 Jonathan, with an approving nod of the head. 
 
 At the various stopping-places, Jonathan who 
 was not a member of any of the temperance socie 
 ties, for those institutions were not founded at the 
 time of which we are writing to show his good 
 fellowship, but with no other motive, did not scruple 
 to drink sundry villanous bar-room compounds, at 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 
 
 39 
 
 the expense of his new acquaintance, who, that day, 
 was so overjoyed to find that the stage of the " Mo 
 nopoly" was compelled to go the whole route 
 entirely empty, that his hilarity and flow of boister 
 ous humour knew no bounds, and he snapped his 
 fingers, and said he did not care a fig for the expense 
 not he ? 
 
 " Here's to the People's Line !" drank Jonathan. 
 
 " The People's Line for ever !" shouted the driver. 
 
 " And confusion to the Monopoly !" rejoined the 
 down-easter. 
 
 " With all my heart !" echoed the friend of the 
 people. 
 
 " The Flying Dutchman is deficient in publick 
 spirit !" said the landlord, a warlike little fellow, 
 who was a major in the militia. 
 
40 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 " Behind the age we live in !" remarked a justice 
 of the peace. 
 
 61 And he deserves to run the gauntlet from Brook 
 lyn to Jamaica for violating the constitution !" re 
 sponded all the patriotick inmates of the bar-room. 
 
 " I say, mister ! you're a fine specimen of a liberal 
 fellow," said Jonathan, as his companion paid the 
 reckoning, resumed the ribands, and touched up the 
 leaders gayly. " You deserve encouragement, and 
 you shall have it. I promise it to you, my lad," 
 continued he, as he slapped the " People's Line" on 
 the shoulder like an old and familiar friend, " and 
 that's enough. The Flying Dutchman, forsooth ! 
 why, he's a hundred years at least behind the grand 
 march of improvement, and, as he will never be 
 able to overtake it, I shall henceforward look upon 
 him as a mere abstract circumstance, unworthy of 
 the least regard or notice." 
 
 Jonathan weighed every word of the last sentence 
 before he pronounced it, for he was, upon the whole, 
 rather a cute chap, and had no notion of letting his 
 friendship for the one party involve him in a law-suit 
 for a libel on the other. 
 
 The overjoyed proprietor thanked him heartily for 
 his good wishes, and for the expression of his con 
 tempt for the old " Monopoly," and the lumbering 
 vehicle thundered on toward Jamaica. 
 
 Arrived, at last, at the termination of the journey, 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 41 
 
 the driver unharnassed the horses, watered them, 
 and put them up for the night. When he turned to 
 take his own departure, however, he observed that 
 Jonathan, who, after all said and done, candour 
 compels us to acknowledge, had rather a hang-dog 
 sort of look, seemed fidgetty and discontented ; that 
 he lingered about the stable, and followed him like 
 a shadow wherever he bent his steps. 
 
 " Do you stop in this town, or do you go further ?" 
 asked the driver. 
 
 " I shall go further, when you settle the trifle you 
 owe me," replied Jonathan, with a peculiar, knowing, 
 but serious expression. 
 
 " That I owe you?" 
 
 " Yes is there not something between us ?" 
 
 " Not that I know of." 
 
 " Why, mister, what a short memory you've got 
 you should study mnemonicks, to put you in mind 
 of your engagements." 
 
 " What do you mean f There must be some 
 mistake !" 
 
 " Oh ! but there's no mistake at all," said Jona 
 than, as he pulled a handbill from his pocket, un 
 folded it with care, and smoothed it out upon the 
 table. It was the identical mammoth handbill with 
 the ponderous capitals. 
 
 " That's what I mean. Look there, Mr. People's 
 Line. There I have you, large as life and no 
 
42 
 
 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 S 
 
 ttl 
 
 mistake whatever. That's your note of hand it's 
 a fair business transaction and I will trouble you 
 for the twenty-five cents, in less than no time ; so 
 shell it out, you 'tarnal crittur." 
 
 " My Christian friend, allow me to explain, if you 
 please. I confess that it's in the bill ; but, bless 
 your simple soul, nobody ever thinks of asking me 
 for it." 
 
 " Did you ever !" ejaculated Jonathan. " Now, 
 that's what I call cutting it a leetle too fat ! but it's 
 nothing to me. I attend to nobody's affairs but my 
 own ; and if other people are such ninnyhammers 
 as to forgive you the debt, that's no reason why I 
 should follow their bad example. Here are your 
 conditions, and I want the mopuses. A pretty piece 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 43 
 
 of business, truly, to endeavour to do your customers 
 out of their just and legal demands in this manner. 
 But I can't afford to lose the amount, and I won't ! 
 What ! haven't I freely given you my patronage 
 liberally bestowed upon you the pleasure of my 
 company, and, consequently, afforded you a triumph 
 over that narrow-contracted ' Monopoly ?' and" now 
 you refuse to comply with your terms of travel, and 
 pay me my money, you ungrateful varmint, you ! 
 Come, mister, it's no use putting words together in 
 this way. I'll expose you to ' old Monopoly' and 
 everybody else, if you don't book-up like an honest 
 fellow ; and I won't leave the town until I am 
 satisfied." 
 
 " You won't ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you serious ?" 
 
 " Guess you'll find I am." 
 
 " And you will have the money ?" 
 
 " As sure as you stand there." 
 
 " What, the twenty-five cents ?" 
 
 " Every fraction of it." 
 
 " And you won't go away without it ?" 
 
 " Not if I stay here till doomsday : and you know 
 the consequence of detaining me against my will." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " I'll swinge you, you pyson sarpent, you !" 
 
 " You'll what ?" 
 
44 THE MONOPOLY 
 
 " I'll sue you for damages." 
 
 " You will f" 
 
 " Yes ; I'll law you to death, sooner than be de 
 frauded out of my property in this manner ; so, down 
 with the dust, and no more grumbling about it." 
 
 The bewildered and crest-fallen proprietor, per 
 ceiving from Jonathan's tone and manner, that all 
 remonstrance would be in vain, and that he was 
 irrevocably fixed in his determination to extract 
 twenty-five cents from his already exhausted coffers, 
 at length slowly and reluctantly put into his hand 
 the bit of silver coin representing that amount of the 
 circulating medium. 
 
 Jonathan, we blush to say, took the money, and 
 what is more, he put it into his pocket ; and, what 
 is moreover, he positively buttoned it up, as if to 
 " make assurance double sure." and to guard it 
 against the possibility of escape. 
 
 " Mister," said he, after he had gone coolly through 
 the ceremony, looking all the while as innocently as 
 a man who has just performed a virtuous action ; 
 1 'mister, I say, you must not think that I set any 
 more value on the insignificant trifle you have paid 
 me, than any other gentleman : a twenty-five cent 
 piece, after all, is hardly worth disputing about 
 it's only a quarter of a dollar which any industrious 
 person may earn in half an hour, if he chooses the 
 merest trifle in the world a poor little scoundrel of a 
 
AND THE PEOPLE'S LINE. 45 
 
 coin, that I would not, under other circumstances, 
 touch with a pair of tongs and which I would scorn 
 to take even now if it were not for the principle of the 
 thing ! To show you, however, that I entertain a high 
 respect for the " People's Line," that I wish old cocka 
 lorum to the devil, and that I do not harbour the 
 slightest ill-will toward you for so unjustifiably with 
 holding my legal demands, the next time I come this 
 way again, I will unquestionably give your stage the 
 preference unlessthe "Flying Dutchman" holdsout 
 greater inducements than you do, in which case, I 
 rather calculate, I shall feel myself in duty bound to 
 encourage him!" 
 
 Since the veritable circumstances here related, 
 the Jamaica rail-road has entirely superseded the 
 necessity of both the " Monopoly" and the " People's 
 Line" of stages, and their publick-spirited proprie 
 tors, after making a prodigious noise in the world, 
 have retired under the shade of their laurels, deep 
 into the recesses of private life. There we shall 
 leave them, to enjoy whatever satisfaction may be 
 gathered from the proud consolation of having ex 
 pended every farthing they were worth in the world, 
 for the gratification of a publick that has long ago 
 forgotten they ever existed ! 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 LETTER ONE. 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Full oft have letters caused the writers 
 
 To curse the day they were inditers. Hudibras. 
 
 These things "from rumour's tongue 
 
 xucoo iiimga uwui lumuui luiiguc 
 
 I idly heard; if true, or false, I know not." Shakspeare. 
 
 SARATOGA SPRINGS, July 22, 1838. 
 DEAR THEODORE The jaunt from Albany to Sa 
 ratoga, over the rail-road, can now be accomplished 
 in less than three hours, and the consequence is that, 
 even at this early season, nearly all the hotels and 
 board-houses in the village are thronged with visitors. 
 There cannot be less than three thousand strangers 
 here at the present time, and every car is constantly 
 adding to the number. Congress-hall is, as formerly, 
 the resort of the light-hearted, the gay, the idle, 
 and the fashionable ; but those who come to partake 
 of the life-giving waters, generally repair to more 
 congenial and quiet abodes. To those disposed to 
 be busy, there is no lack of employment. What with 
 eating and drinking, walking and riding, gunning 
 and fishing, dancing and flirting balls, concerts, 
 
 D 
 
50 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 and parties dressing for this, that, and the other, 
 and similar suitable, and equally profitable occupa 
 tions, time is disposed of without the least difficulty. 
 Every thing is calculated to beguile one of pensive 
 thoughts, and occasionally there is an entertain 
 ment of no ordinary description. The other even 
 ing, for instance, we had a musical soiree, in which 
 that sweet song-bird, Miss Hughes, assisted by 
 Charles Horn, Sinclair, and other professional persons 
 took part. The large room of the United States 
 hotel was occupied by an audience resembling those 
 which attended the Cooper and Dunlap festivals. 
 All the performers were in fine spirits, and sung and 
 played delightfully. The " Young Cavalier," the 
 "Mermaid's Cave," and " Auld Robin Gray," in 
 particular, were given by Miss Hughes in her own 
 impressive manner, and are now remembered as 
 " faded strains that float upon the mind like half- 
 forgotten dreams." This young lady never looked 
 more lovely, nor warbled her melodies with more 
 effect. 
 
 Gossip, scandal, and killing character, are consi 
 dered innocent pastime at Saratoga. I am writing 
 this at a window that overlooks the piazza of Con 
 gress-hall. The weather is pleasant the " shades 
 of evening thicken slowly," and the tide of fashion 
 is flowing beneath me like the waves of the sea. I 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 have been told the history and condition of nume 
 rous individuals, and, for want of better materials, 
 and in compliance with the universal custom of all 
 periodical letter-writers, I will point out a few of the 
 most conspicuous for your especial diversion. 
 
 First, we have a whole platoon of gentlemen with 
 canes, most of whom have been the subjects of much 
 enviable conversation lately. Johnson says that " a 
 person who carries a cane has generally an upper 
 story to let !" The doctor was undoubtedly a very 
 great man and a close observer of human nature. 
 His opinions, with me, have all the sanction of law 
 authority. 
 
 You perceive that stout gentlemen in black ? He 
 is an epicure, and does little else than eat, the live- 
 
52 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 'rrC* 
 
 i 
 
 .( 
 
 -J_ - j-i - Q "I--- -._ 
 
 long day. He made a voyage to London last year 
 expressly for the purpose of enjoying a dish of soles 
 with shrimp sauce ! and has come to the springs 
 now to put his digestive apparatus in good order, 
 before the ensuing season of plum-puddings, buck 
 wheat-cakes and mince-pies, three prime articles, of 
 which he professes to be exceedingly fond, and of 
 which he is supposed, about the holidays, to destroy a 
 most inordinate quantity. He plays the best knife 
 and fork in the village, and is the admiration of all 
 the gourmands at the south. Move on, old FalstafF! 
 Room for a travelled dandy a fellow who went 
 abroad a puppy, and returned " the same old two 
 and six pence" nothing added to his former stock 
 of information, except the cut of his garments, a 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 53 
 
 short-napped hat, and that pair of enormous whiskers 
 in all of which he " reigns and revels !" 
 
 Yonder floats a little man, with a little stick, a 
 little pair of gloves, and a little voice. He is en 
 gaged to that enormously fat young widow beside him , 
 whose fortune is estimated at sixty thousand dollars. 
 The little man is not worth a groat, and is the very 
 antipodes of his dulcinea ; but you know, 
 
 " Tn joining contrasts lieth love's delight." 
 
 Here comes a foreigner of distinction a duke ! 
 Mark his princely air and noble carriage. Observe 
 the diamond hoop upon his little finger, and the 
 circling hair upon his upper lip ! Is he not a mag 
 nificent specimen of the " paragon of animals ?" For 
 
54 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 the last six hours he has been the " observed of all 
 observers," the presiding genius of the place, and 
 his flirtation with a certain meek, blue-eyed quak- 
 eress, at the Union, who, for his dear sake, is in 
 imminent danger of being read out of meeting, has 
 created the first positive sensation of the season. 
 The duke is reported to be immensely rich the lady 
 is known to be so. 
 
 " The form of Hercules affects the sylphs." 
 
 But who is that mild, intellectual-looking being, 
 languishing in the shade ? She is leaning upon the 
 
 arm of General , and talking to Chancellor . 
 
 That lady, I mean, attired in the plain white dress, 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 55 
 
 with her hair modestly parted on her forehead 
 she of the smiling lip and speaking eye 
 
 " That looks not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
 And yet is on't." 
 
 Oh, I see Miss . I should have known her 
 
 among ten thousand, for she is an ornament to her 
 sex and country. 
 
 What a contrast she presents to the proud, haughty 
 belle in her train, half buried beneath the weight 
 of gold and jewels ! 
 
 "Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes." 
 
 Heavens, how she tosses her pretty head, and gives 
 the nod of recognition to those around her! 
 
 " The wealth of worlds is heaped on her in vain." 
 
56 SKETCHES PROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 Lady, for all your smiles and winning ways, I do 
 not envy the poor youth who wears your chains ; 
 they are woven of any thing but flowers. She has 
 the riches of Croesus, the beauty of Hebe but the 
 temper of Xantippe. Yet mind , dear Theodore, I tell 
 you this in confidence, so don't let it go any further. 
 
 But what have we next ? generals and judges, 
 and public characters by the score ! A whole bevy 
 of widows, old maids, and solitary spinsters, without 
 any particular claim to distinction. 
 
 A sudden pause in the crowd. Several carriages 
 with their out-riders have rolled up to the door, 
 emblazoned with the crests of the nobility of this 
 democratic land ! I cannot admire the horses 
 sufficiently ; but as for those who have just alight 
 ed the " least said the soonest mended." 
 
 The bell rings for supper so, ladies and gentle 
 men, by your leave. 
 
 Is it not strange that the very things to which 
 this village is indebted for all its consequence, 
 are most neglected ? The hotels are spacious the 
 accommodations convenient, and the attendance un 
 exceptionable ; but the springs themselves are in a 
 shocking condition. Instead of splendid colonnades, 
 attractive apartments, spacious pump-rooms, marble 
 counters, sparkling fountains, and neat, well-dressed 
 women to attend the visiters, as in other coun- 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 57 
 
 tries, you are compelled to stand ankle-deep in the 
 mud, or upon a miserable platform, constructed over 
 a filthy brook, and receive the water from a bare 
 footed, meanly-clad juvenile, who dips it up in an 
 unclean vessel, and flings it at you with a sleight of 
 hand peculiarly his own. In stead of taking the 
 water as an inviting, health-restoring beverage, you 
 seize the glass with a wry face and an involuntary 
 shudder, and drain its contents with the same 
 repugnance you entertain for nauseous medicine. 
 On rainy days, invalids cannot go to the springs, 
 unless they are satisfied to have the outer as well as 
 inner man, most thoroughly drenched, as there is no 
 friendly covering to shield them from the weather. 
 Really this is too bad, for the most fashionable 
 watering-place in America. 
 
f 
 
 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 LETTER TWO. 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 LETTER II. 
 
 -- The million flit as gay 
 
 As if created only like the fly 
 
 That spreads his motley wings in th' eye of noon, 
 
 To sport their season, and be seen no more. 
 
 Admire, exalt, despise, laugh, weep for here 
 
 There is such matter for all feeling Man, 
 
 Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear. Byron. 
 
 Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time. Shakspearc. 
 
 CONGRESS-HALL, SARATOGA, July 1833. 
 
 DEAR THEODORE The tides of fashion, like those 
 of the sea, are constantly in motion : no sooner does 
 one wave recede than another advances ; and so 
 at the Springs, as one carriage passes away with 
 its light-hearted occupants, another arrives at the 
 gate ; and there stands mine host of the Congress, 
 ever ready to 
 
 *' Welcome the coming speed the parting guest." 
 E 
 
62 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 The hasty farewell is scarcely spoken, before the 
 " new arrival" engrosses all the attention ; and your 
 mineral-water companion of yesterday vanishes 
 from your memory, to make room for some new 
 acquaintance of to-day, who, in his turn, is also 
 doomed to mingle with the misty recollections of 
 the past, and, in a brief period, to be forgotten for 
 ever. Friendships formed here are fleeting and 
 evanescent. Excitement is the grand object of pur 
 suit ; and how can people be so unreasonable as to 
 expect those to feel, who never have leisure to think? 
 
 Nearly every house in the village is overflowing, 
 and visitors are still coming. I shall not attempt 
 to give you a particular description of all the indi 
 viduals I have encountered here ; and for ten thou 
 sand reasons, three of which, however, will suffice at 
 the present time. In the first place, I have no idea 
 of manufacturing a book of travels during this hot 
 weather. In the second , (mark what an eye I have 
 for business,) most of the people here are subscribers 
 to the Mirror, and I never take any liberties with 
 them, you know. And " lastly, and to conclude," 
 those who are not subscribers, (if any such there 
 be !) cannot be supposed worthy of either the time 
 or 'the trouble. Yet, dear Theodore, if you will 
 take a chair with me in the drawing-room, (you 
 had a glimpse at the piazza in my last,) I will point 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 63 
 
 out a few characters from among the company here 
 assembled, and tell you all I know about them. 
 This may amuse you till the bell rings. Come, we 
 will say nothing to wound the feelings of any body ; 
 for scandal, I am aware, is your abhorrence; yet 
 it is very fashionable at most watering-places, and 
 I have heard sufficient here to last me the rest of 
 my life-time. 
 
 You observe that mild, matronly-looking lady, 
 near the window^ yonder ? Is she not a pattern of 
 neatness and propriety ? Her story must be an in 
 teresting one, and not destitute of a moral. I wish 
 I knew it all. I remember her from my boyhood, and 
 shall never forget her looks one fine Sunday morn 
 ing, as she entered Trinity church, leaning on the 
 
 arm of poor . I never saw any thing more 
 
 beautiful than she, at that moment, appeared to my 
 inexperienced eyes ; all my after dreams of female 
 loveliness were associated with her. I could not 
 imagine a being more perfect ; but I was very young 
 then, and she was engaged to be married. I saw 
 her again, after I had grown to be a man ; but oh, 
 
 how altered ! She was still single. and she 
 
 had some misunderstanding, and he had gone to 
 
 England, and died there, I think told me.. I 
 
 never heard any further particulars. Still she was 
 much admired for her beauty, and beloved for her 
 gentleness ; and, as she was immensely rich, must 
 
(34 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 have had opportunities enough of forming what 
 is generally understood, a " convenient alliance ;" 
 for men, or I am much mistaken, were as wordly- 
 given formerly as now. I never saw her afterward, 
 until we met the other day at these Springs. There 
 are more old maids in the world than remain so from 
 necessity. 
 
 " No American should wish to trace his ancestry 
 further back than the revolutionary war," says 
 a recent writer. I admire this sentiment. Yet, 
 while I disapprove, most heartily, of the conceit 
 ed airs and flimsy pretensions which certain little 
 people arrogate to themselves on account of their 
 birth-right, I cannot subscribe to one particle of the 
 cant I am in the habit of hearing expressed on these 
 subjects. It is not " the same thing," to me, at least, 
 whether my father was a count or a coal-heaver, a 
 prince or a pickpocket. I would have all my rela 
 tions, past, present, and to come, goodnand respec 
 table people, and should prefer the blood of the 
 Howards to that of the convicts of Botany Bay 
 nor do I believe I am at all singular in these parti 
 culars. It is nothing more than a natural feeling. 
 Still I would not think ill of a man on account of 
 any misfortune that may have attended his birth, 
 nor well of a man simply because he happened to 
 be cradled in the lap of affluence and pride. The 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 55 
 
 first may be one of nature's noblemen, and the other a 
 poor creature, notwithstanding all his splendour; and 
 that this frequently happens, every day's experience 
 affords us abundant testimony. That the claims of 
 all to distinction should rest upon one's own indivi 
 dual talents, deportment, and character, is also sound 
 doctrine, and cannot be disputed : yet this is no 
 reason why we should not have an honest and be 
 coming pride in the genius, integrity, or gallant 
 bearing of those from whom we sprung. Now, 
 yonder stands a gentleman, who, in my humble 
 judgment, cannot but indulge a secret glow of satis 
 faction, while contemplating the roots of his family 
 tree. He came from a good stock the old Dutch 
 settlers of New-Amsterdam than which no blood 
 that flows in the human veins is either purer, better, 
 or braver. His forefathers were eminently con 
 spicuous as Christians, soldiers, and sages ; they 
 occupied the high places of honour and authority 
 were the ornaments of their day and generation ; 
 and, notwithstanding the shade of ridicule which a 
 popular writer has cast around and interwoven with 
 their history, their memories will ever be cherished 
 until virtue ceases to be an attribute of the human 
 mind. The public-spirit of this gentleman and his 
 liberal views have long been the theme of universal 
 praise ; and although I have not his personal ac 
 quaintance, I know he must be a gentleman the 
 
56 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 mild and benignant expression of his face his 
 unassuming habits his bland and courteous de 
 meanour, all bespeak it ; and, to use the language of 
 Queen Elizabeth, are unto him " letters of recom 
 mendation throughout the world." 
 
 That gentleman is one of the few Americans who 
 combine a literary taste with indefatigable business 
 habits. Had he devoted his life to letters instead 
 of merchandise, he would have been conspicuous 
 among the most gifted of his countrymen. I heard 
 him deliver an address once, remarkable for the 
 beauty of its style and the soundness of its doctrines. 
 
 But this is a money-making land ; and Mr. , 
 
 like Halleck, Wetmore, Sprague, Strong and others, 
 has found the counting-house more profitable than 
 the muses' temple his account-book more certain 
 than all books besides and bank-notes the very best 
 notes in the universe. 
 
 Young is famous for his flute, his dog, and 
 
 the number of his servants. He never travels with 
 out half a dozen. One he dresses in livery, and has 
 him always within calling distance. He plays the 
 German flute with great unction, and with a most 
 determined air, and keeps an enormous dog, of a 
 very peculiar breed, constantly at his heels. He 
 lodges at hotel, near the top of the house 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 67 
 
 that apartment having been assigned him on account 
 of his musical propensities he not wishing to be 
 interrupted in his studies, and the landlord desiring 
 to have the neighbourhood disturbed as little as pos 
 sible by his eternal noise. He is the horror of the 
 surrounding country ; and complaints have frequently 
 been lodged against him for annoying quiet, well- 
 disposed citizens throughout the day, and keeping 
 them awake during most of the night. Wherever he 
 goes he pays double board, as all fluting gentlemen 
 undoubtedly ought to do, and therefore enjoys a kind 
 of privilege to blow away as loud and as often as he 
 thinks proper. His man in livery answers his bell, 
 which is everlastingly going. At the first stroke of 
 the hammer away runs John, and away runs the 
 
63 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 dog close behind him. It is curious to see these 
 two worthies hurrying up stairs, and the exhibition 
 never fails to create a laugh throughout the building, 
 which, however amusing to the spectators, is a source 
 of the deepest mortification and chagrin to poor 
 John, who is the butt of all his associates in the 
 kitchen on this account. John has long looked upon 
 himself as an injured and most unfortunate man, and 
 once summoned sufficient resolution to remonstrate 
 with his master upon his grievances telling him, 
 with tears in his eyes, and in a heart-rending man 
 ner, that if the dog was not discharged, he should 
 be compelled, however reluctantly, and notwith 
 standing the high wages, to look out for another 
 situation, as it was quite impossible to say, when 
 the bell rung, which was wanted, the dog or himself. 
 It is entirely out of the question to describe the in 
 dignation of Monsieur Flute, on hearing this com 
 plaint. At first he turned all the colours of the 
 rainbow then arose from his seat, eyed his rebel 
 lious valet from head to foot, and tried to give vent 
 to his passion in a stream of words ; but, finding the 
 effort vain, he promptly kicked him out of the room, 
 and commanded him from his presence forever ! 
 John, however, is a prudent fellow, and knows the 
 value of a good place and high wages, or, to use his 
 own phrase, " which side his bread is buttered" 
 so he concluded to retain his place, in defiance of 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. gQ 
 
 the laugh and the kicking, and still remains in his 
 former service, and is still followed by that ever 
 lasting dog. Now, young is a nuisance, and 
 
 so are his servants, and so are all private servants at 
 public hotels. During meals, they are always in the 
 way. You are liable to mistake them for the regular 
 waiters of the house, and issue your orders accord 
 ingly. These they refuse to obey, of course. This 
 is provoking. Then they seize upon all the choice 
 dishes on the table, to convey them to their masters, 
 who sit gormandizing while your plate is empty, and 
 the dinner is getting cold. This is monstrous. Then 
 the man with a servant sometimes gives himself airs 
 to the man without a servant. This is intolerable. 
 I have heard of one or two duels on account of 
 private servants, and therefore I repeat, they are a 
 nuisance in a moral point of view, and ought to be 
 abated. 
 
 There is a knot of politicians the " great here 
 after" and his distinguished colleagues, whom I 
 must not mention, for fear of entering the dreaded 
 arena of politics near them are descendants of 
 Carroll, Clinton, Tompkins, and other renowned 
 men, 
 
 " Whose names are with their country's woven;" 
 
 and the room is filling with beauties, belles and 
 beaux of all descriptions. The gentleman in a drab 
 
70 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 coat, is quite a famous fellow here a member of 
 the temperance societies temperate in every thing 
 but water, of which he drinks twenty tumblers every 
 morning before breakfast at the Congress Spring, and 
 has done so for the last six summers. He is a firm 
 believer in its efficacy delivers long orations on the 
 subject to any person who will listen to him pulls 
 every new comer by the button, as soon as he enters 
 the premises, and is known and avoided by the name 
 of the "Water King." That little girl in black, 
 who snaps her fingers at the slender buck in whis 
 kers, has refused six offers of marriage within the 
 last twelve days. She is certainly a bewitching 
 creature, and often puts me in mind of Clara Fisher 
 in the Country Girl. 
 
 Ah, ha ! my little Frenchman ! That fellow is a 
 character. I will tell you a story about him. I 
 stopped at West Point, not long since, and found 
 the hotel crowded with visitors. It was late in the 
 evening when I arrived, and being almost worn out 
 with the fatigue of my journey, for I had been the 
 inmate of stage-coaches, railroad-cars, and canal- 
 boats without closing my eyes for the last two days, I 
 repaired, with all convenient haste, to the solitary- 
 couch that had been assigned me in the basement- 
 story, in the hope of passing a few comfortable hours 
 in the " arms of Morpheus ;" but one glance at the 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 71 
 
 " blue chamber below," convinced me of the utter 
 folly of any such expectation. I found it nearly 
 crammed with my fellow-lodgers, who, if I might 
 judge from the melancholy display of hats, boots, 
 socks, and other articles of wearing apparel, scat 
 tered over the floor, in most " admired disorder," 
 had evidently retired with unbecoming eagerness to 
 secure their places to themselves, and thereby guard 
 them against the possibility of intrusion from others ; 
 doubtless believing, that in this, as well as in similar 
 cases, possession is nine points in the law. As the 
 apartment was very confined, and all the inhabitants 
 wide awake, I thought I might as well spend an 
 hour or two in the open air before going to bed, and 
 was about to retire for that purpose, when a voice 
 called, " If you do not wish to lose your berth, you 
 had better turn in." Observing that nearly all the 
 cots, sofas, settees, chairs, etc., were occupied, and 
 hearing that several of my fellow-passengers were 
 sleeping on the house top and in the halls, I deemed 
 it prudent to follow the advice just given me, so 
 at once commenced disrobing, and was soon stowed 
 away in a snug corner, and it was not long before I 
 found myself gradually and imperceptibly sinking 
 under the power of the gentle god. I began to con 
 gratulate myself to commiserate the unhappy con 
 dition of my less fortunate companions, and to bid 
 good night to all my cares, when that short, thin, 
 
72 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 merry little Frenchman came dancing into the room, 
 and, after cutting a pigeon-wing or two, humming a 
 passage from a favourite opera, and skipping once 
 or twice around the vacant beds, sat himself upon 
 the most commodious, with the exclamation, " Ah 
 ha ! I find him this is him number ten, magni- 
 fique ! Now I shall get some leetle sleeps at last." 
 Again humming a part of a tune, he proceeded to 
 prepare himself for bed. After divesting himself 
 of his apparel, and carefully depositing his trinkets 
 and watch under his pillow, he fastened a red ban 
 danna handkerchief around his head, and slid be 
 neath the counterpane, as gay and lively as a cricket. 
 " It is superb," he once more exclaimed aloud ; " I 
 have not had some rest for six dozen days, certaine- 
 ment and now I shall have some leetle sleeps. But, 
 waiter," bawled he, suddenly recollecting himself. 
 John came at the call. " What is it o'clock, eh ?" 
 
 " Nearly ten, sir." 
 
 " What time de boat arrive f" 
 
 " About two." 
 
 " When he do come, you shall wake me some 
 leetle minute before ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And you shall get some of de champaign and 
 oystare all ready for my suppare f" 
 
 " Very well, sir. You may depend upon me, sir," 
 said John, as he shut the door, and made his exit. 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 73 
 
 " Ah, tres bien, and now for de leetle sleeps." 
 Uttering which, he threw himself upon the pillow, 
 and, in a few seconds, was in a delightful doze. 
 
 The foregoing manoeuvres and conversation had 
 attracted the attention of all, and aroused me com 
 pletely. 
 
 " Confound that Frenchman !" growled a bluff old 
 fellow next him, as he turned on the other side, and 
 went to sleep. 
 
 Most of the other gentlemen, however, raised their 
 heads for a moment, to see what was going on, and 
 then deposited them as before, in silenl resignation. 
 But one individual, with more nerves than fortitude, 
 bounced out of bed, dressed himself in a passion, 
 swore there was no such thing as sleeping there, and 
 went out of the room in a huff. This exploit had 
 an electric effect upon the melancholy spectators, 
 and a general laugh, which awoke all the basement 
 story, was the result. For some minutes afterward 
 the merriment was truly appalling. Jokes, mingled 
 with complaints, were heard in every direction, and 
 the uproar soon became universal. Silence, how 
 ever, was at length restored ; but all symptoms of 
 repose had vanished with the delusion that gave them 
 birth. The poor Frenchman, however, whose slum 
 bers had been sadly broken by the nervous man, 
 had turned himself upside down, and had actually 
 gone to sleep once more ! He began to breathe hard, 
 
74 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 and, finally, to snore and such a snore ! it was 
 enough to have awakened the dead ! There was no 
 such thing as standing that. The equanimity of his 
 immediate neighbour a drowsy fellow, who, on first 
 lying down, said he was resolved to " sleep in spite 
 of thunder" was the first to give way. He sprang 
 bolt upright, hastily clapt both hands over his ears, 
 and called out, at the top of his compass, for the 
 Frenchman to discontinue "that diabolical and dread 
 ful noise." Up jumped the red nightcap, rubbing 
 its eyes in mute astonishment. After hearing the 
 heavy charge against it, with " a countenance more 
 -in sorrow than in anger," and making ever}^ apology 
 in its power for the unintentional outrage it had com 
 mitted, down it sunk once more upon the pillow, 
 and glided away into the land of Nod. But new 
 annoyances awaited my poor Frenchman ; for scarce 
 ly had this event happened, when the door was flung 
 open, and in came a gentleman from Cahawba, with 
 a fierce-looking broad-brimmed hat upon his peri 
 cranium, that attracted general attention, and struck 
 awe and consternation to the hearts of all beholders. 
 He straddled himself into the middle of the floor, 
 thrust both hands into his breeches pockets, pressed 
 his lips firmly together, and cast his eyes deliberately 
 around the apartment, with the expression of one 
 who intended to insist upon his rights. 
 
 " Which is number ten . ? " he demanded, in a tone 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 75 
 
 which startled all the tenants of the basement story. 
 "Ah, I perceive!" continued he, approaching the 
 Frenchman, and laying violent hands upon him. 
 " There's some mistake here. A man in my bed, hey ? 
 Well, let us see what he's made of. Look here, 
 stranger, you're in the wrong box ! You've tumbled 
 into my bed so you must shift your quarters." 
 
 Who shah 1 depict the Frenchman's countenance, 
 as he slowly raised his head, half opened his drooping 
 organs of vision, and took an oblique squint at the 
 gentleman from Cahawba ! 
 
 " You are in the wrong bed," repeated he of the 
 hat " number ten is my property ; yonder is yours, 
 so have the politeness just to hop out." 
 
 The Frenchman was resigned to his fate, and 
 gathering himself together, transported his mortal 
 
76 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 remains to the vacant bed, without the slightest re 
 sistance, and in eloquent silence. It was very evident 
 to him, as well as the rest of us, that there was no 
 withstanding the persuasions of his new acquaint 
 ance, who had a fist like a mallet, and who swore 
 that he always carried loaded pistols in his pocket, 
 to be ready for any emergency. The inhabitants 
 of the basement would have screamed outright this 
 time, but for prudential considerations, for the gen 
 tleman from Cahawba realized the description of 
 the " determined dog," mentioned in the comedy, 
 who " lived next door to a churchyard, killed a man 
 a day, and buried his own dead." Was this, then, 
 a man to be trifled with ? Certainly not. Better to 
 cram the sheets down your throat, and run the risk 
 of suffocation from suppressed laughter, than to en 
 counter the displeasure of a person who wears such 
 a hat. They are always to be avoided. 
 
 But to return to the Frenchman. He was no 
 sooner in his new resting-place, than John came to 
 inform him that his champaign and oysters were 
 ready. Like one in a dream he arose, sat upon the 
 side of the bed, and slowly dressed himself, without 
 a single murmur at his great disappointment. He 
 had hardly finished, when the steamboat bell sound 
 ed among the highlands, and he received the grati 
 fying intelligence, that in consequence of the time 
 he had lost in dressing, he had none left to eat his 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 77 
 
 supper and that, if he did not hurry, he would be 
 too late for the boat ! At this, he arose yawned 
 stretched his person out at full length, and, with the 
 ejaculation " I shall get some leetle sleeps nevare" 
 bid us good-night, and slowly took his leave. 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 LETTER THREE. 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 LETTER III. 
 
 I drank I liked it not. Prior. 
 
 Care is no cure, but rather corrosive 
 
 For things that are not to be remedied. Shakspeare. 
 
 I shall the effect of this good lesson keep 
 As watchman to my heart. Shakspeare. 
 
 SARATOGA, August, 1833. 
 
 EARLY rising, active exercise, country air, and 
 the Congress Spring have done, are doing, and will 
 continue to do wonders for invalids. They are all 
 excellent in their way ; but to produce a beneficial 
 effect upon weak nerves and debilitated constitutions, 
 they must be enjoyed in moderation. Nothing is 
 more true than that all excess is hurtful ; and no 
 thing, one would suppose, is more self-evident : yet 
 many people in delicate health go to Saratoga 
 under the impression, it would seem, that the more 
 water they drink, the faster they will get well. 
 
g2 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 Some of the visitors are in the habit of swallowing 
 fifteen, twenty, thirty, and even forty glasses every 
 morning before breakfast ! The result of such im 
 prudence can, of course, be easily foreseen. Instead 
 of getting the better of their several complaints, they 
 daily grow worse, and are not unfrequently compel 
 led to abandon the use of the waters altogether, for 
 want of proper caution in the first instance. The 
 resident physician at the Springs, as every body 
 knows, is an able practitioner, a man of science, and 
 a well-bred gentleman. We were seated one morning, 
 during the present season, in his study, when an 
 individual knocked at the door, and immediately 
 gained admittance. He was a large, fat, unwieldy 
 piece of humanity from the south, with a face like 
 the full moon just rising, arid had the appearance of 
 one " who could kill an ox with his fist, and pick his 
 teeth with its horns." But, alas ! appearances are 
 deceitful ; my man mountain was sadly out of re 
 pair, and could do no such thing. A chronic. affection 
 of his stomach embittered all his days, and his doc 
 tor had sent him to the Springs for relief. Every 
 other remedy had been tried, but to little or no pur 
 pose. The waters then were his only reliance, his 
 last resort. If they failed him, his case was hope 
 less his disease incurable. Accordingly, on his 
 arrival, he had taken to hard drink, like a brave 
 fellow ; but finding, to his unutterable astonishment 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 3 
 
 and confusion, after a whole week's melancholy 
 experience, that the mineral fluids had done him an 
 infinite deal of mischief, and not the least discernible 
 good, he had now repaired to the apartment of the 
 resident physician, entirely out of humour with the 
 waters, himself, and all the world besides, and in 
 utter despair. No wonder, then, that he was angry, 
 or that he should frown indignantly on coming into 
 the presence of the learned professor of the healing 
 art. Placing his cane against the wall, in a firm 
 and decided manner, and tossing his hat upon the 
 table with a peculiar emphasis, he threw himself 
 into a chair with a thumping whack ; then taking 
 a blue and white handkerchief from his pocket, he 
 wiped the perspiration from his face, crossed his 
 legs, folded his arms, compressed his lips, and eyed 
 the doctor from head to foot, with mingled feelings 
 of scorn and indignation. 
 
 " So," said he, at length, " you're a doctor, are 
 you ?" 
 
 " At your service, sir. May I ask who you are ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly, I am a man that has come six 
 hundred miles, like a blockhead, in compliance with 
 the advice of a quack-doctor, to drink your infer 
 nal waters and they've made me worse that's 
 who I am. Now, what do you say to that, hey ?" 
 
 " Why," replied the doctor, with his usual good 
 nature, and without allowing himself to be disturbed 
 
84 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 in the least, by the abrupt deportment of his new 
 acquaintance,' "why, my friend, that I am very sorry 
 for it. But what's the matter with you ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, I'm in pain all over." 
 
 " Indeed ; what are your symptoms ?" 
 
 " I've every symptom you ever heard of." 
 
 " That's bad." 
 
 " Bad !" said the man with a stomach, " it's in 
 fernal it's diabolical it will be the death of me !" 
 
 " In pain all over, you say ?" 
 
 " Yes, all over, I tell you 1" 
 
 " Any pain in your foot ?" 
 
 44 Well, I don't exactly know as to that," said the 
 gentleman from the south, evidently drawing in his 
 horns. 
 
 " If you had any there, would you not be likely 
 to know it ?" pursued the doctor, mildly. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I should." 
 
 " Then, you have no pain in your foot ?" 
 
 " Why, no." 
 
 44 Then, what do you mean by pain all over ?" 
 
 The patient would have explained ; but the doc 
 tor went on with his professional cross-examination. 
 
 " And how many tumblers of water do you drink 
 a day?" 
 
 44 Why, I began moderately. When I first came 
 I only took eight ; but I have increased the quantity 
 every-day, and, this morning I got down thirty-two." 
 
 
SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 35 
 
 " Thirty-two ?". repeated the doctor, coolly, but 
 with evident surprise. " Only thirty-two ? Then 
 permit me, my friend, to remark that you have not 
 taken " 
 
 The man from the south interrupted him he 
 would hear no more he thought the doctor was go 
 ing to tell him he had not taken half enough and 
 the idea made him shudder. 
 
 "Now stop, doctor; stop, I beseech you. That's 
 all very true, what you're going to say. I know it. 
 If I must die, I must ; but I can't drink more than 
 thirty-two tumblers, any way under heavens nor 
 will I attempt it, happen what may !" 
 
 It is unnecessary to give the remainder of the 
 dialogue. The reader has sufficient to show him 
 with what views some people visit the Springs, and 
 how little they know of the properties and effects of 
 the waters. This, however, is only one of a thousand 
 similar instances. The invalid in question for such 
 he really was, notwithstanding his enormous bulk 
 and jolly round physiognomy was soon convinced 
 of the absolute absurdity of the course he had been 
 pursuing; and, after listening to a little salutary ad 
 vice, which, we make no doubt, will be of service 
 to him during the remainder of his life, took his 
 leave, with the resolution to become a more tem 
 perate man in future. We saw him again, about a 
 fortnight after the conversation here recorded, and 
 
 G 
 
86 
 
 SKETCHES FROM THE SPRINGS. 
 
 were gratified to learn, that, by following a few 
 simple directions, his " pain all over" had entirely 
 disappeared, and that he was a new creature, or, to 
 use his own expression, " as good as new." He 
 looked the picture of perfect health, and said he felt 
 as well as he looked. 
 
 " Then you have changed your opinion of the 
 waters ?" 
 
 " Entirely. They have acted upon me like a 
 charm. But no man should touch them, until he 
 has first received the advice and directions of some 
 competent physician." 
 
 " True, and this simple fact it would do no harm 
 for all to bear in mind who visit the Springs." 
 
A LETTER AND A POEM 
 
LETTER TO HENRY RUSSELL. 
 
 He turned him from the spot his home no more, 
 For without hearts there is no home; and felt 
 The solitude of passing his own door 
 Without a welcome. Byron. 
 
 NEW- YORK, February 1, 1837. 
 
 My DEAR SIR You did me the honour to request 
 some lines of mine for musick ; and, at the moment, 
 being delighted with your fine voice and exquisite 
 taste in singing, I said I would write you a song. 
 Now, I think with the author of the Hunchback, that 
 a promise given, when it can be kept, admits not of 
 release, " save by consent or forfeiture of those who 
 hold it," and I have been as good as my word, as you 
 will perceive by the enclosure of " The Woodman." 
 
 G* 
 
90 A LETTER. 
 
 I hope it will answer your purpose. Let me tell you 
 how I came to choose an old tree for my subject. 
 Riding out of town a Jfcv days since, in company 
 with a friend, who was once the expectant heir of 
 the largest estate in America, but over whose worldly 
 prospects a blight has recently come, he invited me 
 to turn down a little romantick woodland pass not 
 far from Bloomingdale. 
 
 " Your object ?" inquired I. 
 
 " Merely to look once more at an old tree planted 
 by my grandfather, near a cottage that was once my 
 father's." 
 
 " The place is yours then ?" said I. 
 
 " No, my poor mother sold it ;" and I observed a 
 slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that cir 
 cumstance. " Dear mother !" resumed my compan 
 ion, " we passed many happy, happy days, in that 
 old cottage ; but it is nothing to me now father, 
 mother, sisters, cottage all, all, gone ;" and a pale 
 ness overspread his fine countenance, and a moisture 
 came to his eyes as he spoke. But after a moment's 
 pause, he added, " Don't think me foolish ; I don't 
 know how it is, I never ride out but I turn down 
 this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand 
 recollections about it, and I always greet it as a fa 
 miliar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone 
 summer-time it was a friend indeed. I often listened 
 to the good counsel of my parents there, and I have 
 
A LETTER. 91 
 
 had such gambols with my sisters ! Its leaves are 
 all off now, so you won't see it to half its advantage, 
 for it is a glorious old fell^fci summer ; but I like it 
 full as well in very winrer^ time." These words 
 were scarcely uttered, when my companion cried 
 out, " There it is !" and he sprang from his saddle 
 and ran toward it. I soon overtook him, wondering 
 at his haste ; but what met my sight, made it no 
 wonder. Near the tree stood an old man with his 
 coat off, sharpening an axe. He was the occupant 
 of the cottage. 
 
 " What are you doing ?" 
 
 " What's that to you," was the reply. 
 
 " A little matter, but not much you're not going 
 to cut that tree down surely ?" 
 
 " Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. 
 
 " What for," inquired my companion, almost 
 choked with emotion. 
 
 " What for? why, because I think proper to do 
 so. What for? I like that! Well, I'll tell you what 
 for ; this tree makes my dwelling unhealthy ; it 
 stands too near the house ; prevents the moisture 
 from exhaling, and renders us liable to fever-and- 
 ague." 
 
 " Who told you that ?" 
 
 " Dr. Smith." 
 
 " Have you any other reason for wishing to cut it 
 down ?" 
 
92 A LETTER. 
 
 " Yes, I am getting old, the woods are a great way 
 off, and this tree is of some value to me to burn." 
 
 He was soon convij^^k however, that the story 
 about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there 
 never had been a case of that disease in the neigh 
 bourhood ; and then was asked what the tree was 
 worth for firewood ? 
 
 " Why, when it is down about ten dollars." 
 
 " Suppose I should give you that sum, would you 
 let it stand ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 , " You are sure of that?" 
 
 " Positive." 
 
 " Then give me a bond to that effect." 
 
 I drew it up ; it was witnessed by his daughter, 
 the money was paid, and we left the place, with an 
 assurance from the young girl, who looked as smiling 
 and beautiful as a Hebe, that the tree should stand 
 as long as she lived. We returned to the turnpike, 
 and pursued our ride. These circumstances made 
 a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished 
 me with the materials for the song I send you. I 
 hope you will like it, and pardon this long and 
 hurried letter. With sentiments of respect, I remain 
 yours very cordially, 
 
 GEO. P. MOURIS. 
 HENRY RUSSELL, ESQ. 
 
THE OAK. 93 
 
 WOODMAN, spare that tree ! 
 
 Touch not ^fcgle bough ! 
 In youth it she^ffed me, 
 
 And I'll protect it now. 
 'Twas my forefather's hand 
 
 That placed it near his cot ; 
 There, woodman let it stand, 
 
 Thy axe shall harm it not ! 
 
 That old familiar tree, 
 
 Whose glory and renown 
 Are spread o'er land and sea, 
 
 And wouldst thou hack it down ? 
 Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! 
 
 Cut not its earth-bound ties ; 
 Oh, spare that aged oak, 
 
 Now towering to the skies ! 
 
 When but an idle boy 
 
 I sought its grateful shade ; 
 In all their gushing joy 
 
 Here too my sisters played. 
 My mother kiss'd me here ; 
 
 My father pressed my hand 
 Forgive this foolish tear, 
 
 But let that old oak stand ! 
 
94 THE OAK. 
 
 My heart-strings round thee cling, 
 
 Close as thy bark, old friend ! 
 Here shall J^L wild-bird sing, 
 
 And stilly branches bend. 
 Old tree ! the storm still brave ! 
 
 And, woodman, leave the spot ; 
 While I've a hand to save, 
 
 Thy axe shall harm it not. 
 
LEAVES 
 
 FROM 
 
 AN EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO. 
 
t, I 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO 
 
 'A thing of shreds and patches." Shakspeare. 
 
 GROUNDS FOR A DIVORCE. 
 
 " And Love which, on their bridal eve, 
 
 Had promised long to stay 
 Forgot his promise took French leave, 
 And bore his lamp away." Halleck. 
 
 CHARLES T was married a few years ago. 
 
 He was a happy man. His business was a thriving 
 one, and he snapped his fingers, and'saiahe did not 
 care a fig for the presidents, cashiers an* directors 
 of all the banks in Christendom, for he owed them 
 nothing ; and was not obliged to bow, and stoop, and 
 cringe to them for a discount, as many do now-a- 
 days, until it is quite impossible to stand erect in 
 the presence of an honest man. He had a house in 
 Broadway, near the Bowling-Green, and lived more 
 like a nabob than well becomes a decent republican 
 
98 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 in this democratick country. His wife had been a 
 belle and a beauty ; but, like many others of her sex, 
 she had a will of her Qwn, which she did not lay 
 aside with her bridal garments. Everybody envied 
 Charles his good fortune. Matters went on swim 
 mingly. Charles was a high fellow fond of his 
 friends fond of his horses fond of his dogs and 
 fond of having his way in everything. He liked 
 company frequently gave parties at his own house, 
 and attended balls, routs and soirees at those of his 
 neighbours. He was, in short, a fine, gay, dashing 
 spark full of health and spirits, and in the very 
 bloom of life. Yet, with all his good qualities, 
 Charles T had one fault, which his wife en 
 deavoured in vain to correct. He would occasion 
 ally stay out until midnight ; and, whenever this 
 
 occurred, Mrs. T met him at the threshold 
 
 of his own door, with chidings and complaints. 
 
 Now, Mr. T had a touch of Gloster's condi- 
 
 tjlPr'whipR" could not brook the spirit of reproof;" 
 solhat thefcourse his wife took to remedy the defect 
 in his character, only made matters worse and dis 
 content and family bickerings were the result ; fre 
 quent wranglings followed, and an open rupture 
 finally ensued ; consequently, in process of time, 
 both husband and wife grew heartily tired of each 
 other. One day a grand entertainment was given at 
 the Astor house, in honour of a distinguished sen- 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 99 
 
 ator. Charles T , of course attended. The 
 
 dinner was excellent the speeches eloquent the 
 wines sparkling, and the company even more spark 
 ling than the wine. Charles did not go home that 
 night at all, but arrived at his own door just as St. 
 Paul's clock struck the hour of four. The morning 
 was drear and cold. Not a light was to be' seen 
 not a footstep to be heard the watchmen were 
 turned in and the gas-lamps were turned out ; and, 
 more dismal still, the door of Mr. T 's dwel 
 ling was locked ! This had never happened before ; 
 and Charles's patriotism gave way to his petulance. 
 He pulled most lustily at the bell he broke the 
 wire he dashed the handle on the pavement ; but 
 no one answered his summons. He addressed him 
 self to the knocker rap, rap, r-a-p, and repeated ; 
 r-a-p, r a p, r-r-a-a-p-p, and again repeated ; 
 but all in vain. The inmates were either asleep, or 
 dead it was not certain which ; but it was certain 
 that no one came to his relief. It was striking five 
 o'clock ; and an old dunghill cock, in an adjacent 
 stable, had k< thrice done salutation to the dawn." 
 The musical timepiece, on the marble mantel in the 
 front room of his own house, was playing the popu 
 lar air of " How brightly breaks the morning" but 
 no friendly hand withdrew the bolt that kept him 
 from his bed. This was too bad. Rap, rap, rap, 
 went the knocker once more, and louder than ever. 
 
100 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 Up flew the windows of almost every house in the 
 neighbourhood, except his own and out shot various 
 night-caps and bandanas to inquire what the dense 
 was the matter ? Charles endeavoured to explain, 
 when, with a bitter reproof for disturbing people in 
 their virtuous beds, and for waking them out of their 
 innocent sleep at such unreasonable hours, down 
 went the sashes, and presto ! the night-caps and 
 bandanas disappeared in less time than }^ou could say 
 Jack Robinson ! Charles w r as boiling over with rage. 
 He tried the window-shutters, the cellar-door,- and the 
 grate to the coal-vault, but all to no purpose. Finally, 
 a thought struck him, and he resolved to scale the gar 
 den- wall. He repaired to the rear of the house with 
 that intention. While clambering over the bricks, 
 he was arrested by one of the guardians of the night, 
 who had awakened from a delicious nap, just in the 
 nick of time to seize him by the leg and bear him 
 away to the watch-house. Here he remained until 
 day-break, when he was dismissed by Mr. Justice 
 Lownds, with an admonition to keep better hours in 
 future ! How the lady explained the matter how 
 it happened that none of the household heard the 
 bell and knocker and why a night-latch was added 
 soon after to the front-door, are matters that we 
 know nothing about; and, if we did, they are .not 
 worth recording here. We pass over these and other 
 uninteresting particulars for the sake of brevity, and 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 1Q1 
 
 leave the reader to account for a mysterious adver 
 tisement which has recently been published in the 
 Albany Argus, wherein it is set forth that a certain 
 very ill-used lady claims to be divorced from her 
 husband, on the grounds that he is given to late hours 
 and bad company ! 
 
 WANT OF CONFIDENCE. 
 
 A little Frenchman loaned a merchant five thou 
 sand dollars when the times were good. He called 
 at the counting-house a few days since, in a state of 
 agitation not easily described. 
 
 " How do you do ?" inquired the merchant. 
 
 " Sick ver sick," replied monsieur. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 " De times is de matter." 
 
 " Betimes? what disease is that ?" 
 
 " De malaide vat break all de marchants, ver 
 much." 
 
 " Ah the times, eh ? well, they are bad, very 
 bad, sure enough ; but how do they affect you f" 
 
 " Vy, monsieur, I lose de confidance." 
 
 "In whom?" 
 
 " In everybody." 
 
 " Not in me, I hope ?" 
 
 " Pardonriez moi, monsieur ; but I do not know 
 H* 
 
102 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 who to trust a present, when all de marchants break 
 several times, all to pieces." 
 
 " Then I presume you want your money ?" 
 
 " Oui, monsieur, I starve for want of V argent" 
 
 " Can't you do without it ?" 
 
 " No, monsieur, I must have him." 
 
 " You must ?" 
 
 " Oui, monsieur," said little dimity breeches, 
 turning pale with apprehension for the safety of his 
 money. 
 
 " And you can't do without it ?" 
 
 " No, monsieur, not von other leetle moment 
 kmgare." 
 
 The merchant reached his bank book drew a 
 check on the good old Chemical for the amount, and 
 handed it to his visiter. 
 
 "Vat is dis, monsieur?" 
 
 " A check for five thousand dollars, with the in 
 terest." 
 
 "Is it bonf" said the Frenchman, with amaze 
 ment. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Have you de V argent in de bank ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And it is parfaiternent convenient to pay de 
 sum?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly. What astonishes you ?" 
 
 " Vy, dat you have got him in dees times." 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 1Q3 
 
 " Oh, yes, and I have plenty more. I owe no 
 thing that I cannot pay at a moment's notice." 
 
 The Frenchman was perplexed. 
 
 " Monsieur, you shall do me one leetle favour, eh ?" 
 
 "With all my heart." 
 
 " Veil, monsieur, you shall keep del 1 argent for me 
 some leetle year longer." * 
 
 " Why, I thought you wanted it." 
 
 " Tout au contrairc. I no vant de V argent I vant 
 de grand confidance. Suppose you no got de money, 
 den I vant him ver much suppose you got him, den 
 I no vant him at all. Vous comprenez, eh f" 
 
 After some further conference, the little French 
 man prevailed upon the merchant to retain the mo 
 ney, and left the counting-house with a light heart 
 and a countenance very different from the one he 
 wore when he entered. His confidence was re 
 stored, and although he did not stand in need of 
 the money, he wished to know that his property was 
 in safe hands. 
 
 This little sketch has a moral, if the reader has 
 sagacity enough to find it out. 
 
 EFFECTS OF INTERRUPTION. 
 
 GUIDO had painted a picture that astonished all 
 Florence. It rested upon his easel. It was pro- 
 
104 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 nounced his chef-d'oeuvre. It was almost perfect. 
 Everybody came to see to admire to praise it. 
 
 " How glorious !" said one. 
 
 "It has never been excelled!" said another. 
 
 " What atmosphere what vitality !" said a third. 
 
 " And why don't the group of peasants speak ?" 
 said a fourth. 
 
 A slight defect was observed in the face of one 
 of them, which was a portrait taken from life. 
 Guido was alone. He sat about remedying the 
 defect. He had mixed the colours the brush had 
 touched the canvass he was full of the idea of 
 making the picture " not almost, but altogether" 
 perfect, and a bland smile irradiated his fine coun 
 tenance when an officer entered his studio and 
 arrested him for debt. Guido rose from his seat 
 and dashed the brush at the unoffending canvass ! 
 The picture was ruined for ever ! 
 
 " What a fretful fool was Guido !" said one. 
 
 " How irritable !" said another. 
 
 " What a dunce to get into a passion because he 
 was interrupted !" said a third. 
 
 " How silly to spoil in a moment the labour of a 
 year !" said a fourth. 
 
 " He is not constructed like other men, and is a 
 fool," said they all. 
 
 " Do you paint, friends ?" asked a bystander. 
 
 " No," was the reply. 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. JQ5 
 
 " Then you know nothing of the workings of the 
 mind of an artist, nor can you feel the withering 
 disappointment he endures when, just as he is giving 
 the last touch to a production that is to bring him 
 fame and competence, his golden dream is broken. 
 His imagination takes \vings, and that which but a 
 moment before was the aspiration of a bright and 
 burning fancy, \vhen left unfinished and resumed in 
 a more serious mood, becomes a mechanical and 
 weary drudgery. Had Guido been differently con 
 structed, had he been what you have been pleased 
 to call him a fool he never would have been able 
 to paint the picture at all." 
 
 THE HUNCHBACK. 
 
 DURING the last rehearsal of the play of the Hunch 
 back, Mr. Knowles, who personally superintended 
 the stage-directions, was frequently annoyed by the 
 remarks of the actors. Some of them very much 
 doubted the success of the piece. Charles Kemble 
 thought the part of Sir Thomas Clifford unworthy 
 of his talents ; he consented, however, to perform 
 it, for his daughter's sake. This nettled Knowles, 
 who would not listen to a single suggestion. 
 
 " Give me another entrance and exit speech," 
 said Kemble. 
 
 " I can add nothing more," replied Knowles. 
 
_LQ6 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 " You can't ?" exclaimed the actor. 
 
 "No !" rejoined the dramatist. 
 
 " Give me a few words here," said the first. 
 
 " Not a line," said Knowles, "except it be one to 
 hang yourself with." 
 
 Here the parties turned from each other, and the 
 business of the stage went on for a few moments 
 longer, when it was again interrupted by Kemble : 
 
 " Beg your pardon, Mr. Knowles ; but this part 
 absolutely requires an addition : a slight alteration 
 would render the play far more effective. You must 
 make another speech for Sir Thomas." 
 
 Knowles coloured, and, turning abruptly to " the 
 patrician of the stage," gave vent to his feelings in 
 these terms : 
 
 "Mr. Kemble, brains are not shingles, sir; and " 
 
 " And what, sir ?" said Kemble. 
 
 " And if they were," rejoined the author, " I am 
 no carpenter !" 
 
 Kemble smiled at the oddity of the expression, 
 and Knowles left the theatre in a huff. 
 
 "At night, the bickerings of the morning were 
 forgotten the house was crowded with the beauty, 
 fashion and taste of the English metropolis the 
 play was applauded and cheered throughout and 
 the curtain fell amid the most animated applause 
 ever heard within the walls of a theatre. First 
 the author (who, in consequence of the indisposi- 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. JQ7 
 
 tion of one of the actors, performed the Hunch 
 back,) was called for and made his bow ; he was 
 received with loud and hearty cheers then the fair 
 debutante. Miss Fanny Kemble, who had made a 
 deep impression in the character of Julia : the pit 
 arose and testified their approbation, and the waving 
 of handkerchiefs was universal throughout the boxes 
 and next came Mr. Charles Kemble, who an 
 nounced the play for repetition, amid most deafening 
 acclamations ; and the parties retired, covered with 
 laurels. 
 
 " Well," said Knowles, when they were out of 
 publick view, " what alteration can you suggest 
 now, Mr. Kemble ?" 
 
 " Nothing in the text," said Kemble ; " but I think 
 the cast of the piece might be improved." 
 
 " Ah, there," said Knowles, " I allow you to be a 
 better judge than myself; any suggestion of yours 
 is worth attending to -what is it ?" 
 
 " Why, sir," said Kemble, intending to hit poor 
 Knowles in a sensitive part, " I think if Master 
 Walter were in any other hands but your own, the 
 play would go off better!" 
 
 Knowles looked confused, and was evidently hurt 
 at the remark ; but he immediately rallied his spirits 
 and asked Kemble what fault he had to find with 
 his performance. 
 
 "Why, sir," said Kemble, "you are imperfect 
 
* 
 
 108 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 in the words; and, from this circumstance, it ap 
 pears that you do not give the true meaning of the 
 author" 
 
 This retort, strange to say, restored good feeling 
 between the parties ; mutual concessions were ex 
 changed, and the next day all London was loud in 
 praise of the Hunchback ! 
 
 MAJOR NO All. 
 
 WE remember, as a thing of yesterday, notwith 
 standing many years have passed away since that 
 merry night, when Mr. Noah's play of " She would 
 be a soldier" was first performed ; when bonny Miss 
 Leesugg now Mrs. Hackett looked like a Hebe 
 and sung like a nightingale ! She played the prin 
 cipal character ; and, although a spinster then, wore 
 the breeches to the infinite delight and satisfaction 
 of everybody. Barnes was then the merriest dog 
 alive Simpson was in all liis glory, and Pritchard 
 was the top tragedian of the Park. We have for 
 gotten who else figured on that memorable occasion ; 
 but one thing we shall never forget ; each one of the 
 audience, on going into the house, was presented 
 with a printed copy of the play. This was a sad 
 annoyance to the poor actors, very few of whom 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 109 
 
 knew their parts ; and, when the curtain rose, and 
 they perceived that each auditor had a book before 
 him, they were scarcely able to articulate what little 
 they had committed to memory ! The embarrass- ' 
 ment was universal and very amusing ; but, when 
 the audience wet their thumbs and turned over the 
 pages together, the effect was ludicrous in the ex 
 treme ! The rustling of leaves was prodigious, and 
 the turning of every page was the signal for shouts 
 of boisterous merriment. We have thought of that 
 night a thousand times, and laughed heartily at the 
 recollection of the odd things said and done by 
 Barnes, who was then so great a favourite that he 
 took all manner of liberties with the publick with 
 perfect impunity. The writer of this was a boy at 
 the time, and remembers Major Noah as the great 
 literary and political lion of this the greatest of all 
 possible great cities. He told the best story, rounded 
 the best sentence, and wrote the best play of all his 
 contemporaries. He was the life and spirit and quo 
 tation of all circles. As editor, critick, and author, 
 he was looked up to as an oracle. He was, in short, 
 the idoneus homo of that day. His wit was every 
 where repeated, and his kindheartedness which, 
 by-the-by, to this very hour has never forsaken him 
 was the theme of every tongue. He was soon af 
 terwards appointed sheriff, and the only reason ever 
 given for turning him out was, that "the people 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 thought it devilish hard that a Jew should hang a 
 Christian !" " Pretty Christians, forsooth !" said the 
 facetious major in his newspaper, " whose crimes 
 have sent them to the gallows !" While in office, 
 Major Noah wrote several other pieces for the stage, 
 which were eminently successful. One of them was 
 so redolent of villanous saltpetre, brimstone, sulphur, 
 and blue and red lights, that it set fire to the theatre 
 and burnt it to the ground ! The proceeds of that 
 night were for the benefit of Major Noah. The house 
 was filled to its utmost limits with the beauty and 
 fashion of the town. Oh the cheerful hearts and ra 
 diant faces of that merry occasion ! and oh the ap 
 plause and hilarity of all the mad wags and wits that 
 were present ! The receipts were nearly two thou 
 sand dollars a larger sum than is ever seen for the 
 performance of a single evening in these degenerate 
 days of paper currency and empty pockets. It was 
 an awful conflagration that succeeded however, and 
 it produced the greatest distress among the kings and 
 knights, princes and pickpockets, baronets and ban 
 ditti, and all the other heroes of the sock and buskin, 
 who lost every thing they had, and were thrown en 
 tirely out of employment until the opening of the 
 Anthony-street theatre. Their drooping fortunes were 
 here revived by the first appearance of Kean, that 
 aloe-tree of the dramatick groves, which blooms but 
 once in a hundred years. Major Noah's two thousand 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 dollars, however, were saved. Mr. Faulkner, the 
 treasurer, had taken the money home with him Tor 
 safe keeping, and the next day Mr. Price enclosed 
 it to the author. We remember the correspondence 
 that ensued, and we were struck with the generosity 
 and magnanimity of Noah, who, notwithstanding his 
 own pecuniary wants, and they were many at the 
 time, returned every fraction of the amount, and 
 caused it to be divided among the performers, who 
 had been stripped of their little all by the fire ! This 
 noble act made a deep impression upon the mind of 
 the writer of this, who, after the lapse of a little life 
 time, feels an emotion about the heart, while he 
 records it in these fugitive pages ; thinking, per 
 haps, that it may serve as a hint to Mr. Dunlap, 
 or some other historian of the stage, as raw material 
 for a more elaborate sketch of one who has done 
 much for the drama and its professors in this country. 
 We could tell a thousand anecdotes of the good ma 
 jor, but we forego the pleasure for the present. The 
 truth is, we merely intended to refer to the fact that 
 a new play of his was forthcoming, and our feelings, 
 almost against our will, betrayed us into what has 
 followed. If we have given " fancy the whip, imagi 
 nation the reins, while system came limping behind," 
 his good nature will excuse us ; and so will our citi 
 zens for writing about one we have known so long 
 and intimately, with something like a heart-glow. 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 THE ACTORS AND THE BROKERS. 
 "Oh, that infernal Jacob Barker !" 
 
 SOME nine years since, Barnes and Hackett, the 
 comedians, met in Wall-street. Barnes was in a 
 towering fury, for he had just heard of the loss of 
 some two or three thousand dollars, in consequence 
 of the failure of the Tradesmen's Bank, and other 
 little misfortunes of that kind. The following dia 
 logue is authentick : 
 
 Barnes. Hallo, Hackett ! here, just step into the 
 Union Bank with me : I want to get my dividend. 
 
 HacJcett. With pleasure. Why, what a great 
 stockholder you are becoming in the banks. 
 
 Barnes. Oh, confound them. I suppose you have 
 heard of my losses in the Tradesmen ? 
 
 Hackett. Yes, and am very sorry for them. 
 
 Barnes. It's all along with that infernal Jacob 
 Barker! 
 
 Hackett. Indeed . 
 
 Barnes, Yes, I'd have that fellow hanged: but 
 let's go in for my dividend. 
 
 And in the comedians went together. 
 
 Barnes called on the first teller, and told him he 
 wanted his dividend. The first teller referred him 
 to the president, an old gray-headed gentleman, who 
 stood behind the counter. 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. H3 
 
 Barnes. Called for my dividend, sir. 
 
 President. For your what . ? 
 
 Barnes. My dividend. 
 
 President. Beg your pardon sir; but what is 
 your name ? 
 
 Barnes. Mr. Barnes. 
 
 Upon the avowal of this fact every clerk in the 
 bank turned to look at the comedian, who was un 
 known until the anouncement of his name. Upon 
 which there was a general titter throughout the 
 bank, everybody being well acquainted with " old 
 Barnes," as he w r as called upon the stage. 
 
 President. Mr. Barnes, we do not make any divi 
 dend for the last six months. 
 
 Barnes. No ! why, what the devil's the reason ? 
 
 Prisident. Why, haven't you heard of the forgery 
 on the bank, and the arrest of Redmond ? 
 
 Barnes. No ; haven't heard a syllable of it ; but 
 I want my dividend. You're not going to swindle 
 me out of that, I hope ! Oh, that infernal Jacob 
 Barker ! 
 
 , President. Mr. Barker has nothing to do with 
 this institution, Mr. Barnes, and we can't, make any 
 dividend until we recover our late losses. 
 
 Barnes. Then, sir, you are all a set of swindlers 
 beg your pardon heaven forgive me for getting 
 angry but I believe you are all as bad as Jacob 
 Barker himself all in the plot. No dividend, eh ! 
 
314 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 President. No, not a cent. 
 
 Barnes. Well, I hope my principal's safe ? 
 
 President. Certainly. 
 
 Barnes. Well, that's better than the Tradesmen's. 
 Oh, that infernal Jacob Barker ! Good-day, sir. 
 Come, Hackett. 
 
 And the parties left the bank amid the general 
 titter of all present. On going out Barnes turned to 
 Hackett : 
 
 Barnes. Didn't I give it to that old fellow ? 
 
 Hackett.- Yes, I think you did. 
 
 Barnes. Well, there's some comfort in speaking 
 one's mind. Oh, that infernal Jacob Barker! I 
 should like to tell him my opinion. 
 
 Hackett. What makes you so angry with Jacob 
 Barker ? 
 
 Barnes. Why, all these failures are owing to him. 
 Didn't he advise me to buy in the Tradesmen and 
 the Union, merely to swindle me out of my money ? 
 I wish I could only see him now. Hollo ! yonder 
 he goes ! Hollo ! Jacob Barker ! here ! I want 
 to speak to you. 
 
 Barnes and Hackett ran after him at the top of 
 their speed, and soon overtook the wily broker. 
 
 Barker Why, Mr. Barnes, what' s the matter ? 
 
 Barnes. Why, matter enough. How came you 
 to advise me to buy stock in the Tradesman and 
 Union Banks ? 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. U5 
 
 Barker. Why, I thought the stock good at the 
 time. 
 
 Barnes. Well, one's failed and the other has had 
 a forgery committed upon it. 
 
 Barker. And so "you've lost your money. 
 
 Barnes. Exactly. 
 
 Barker. I'm sorry to hear it ; but you must bear 
 your losses like a Christian. 
 
 Barnes. Well, that's cool ! 
 
 Barker. Yes, Mr. Barnes, I'm always cool and 
 I advise you to keep so too. But I'm too busy to 
 waste my time with you just now. I've important 
 business on hand ; so good-by. 
 
 Barker went on his way, leaving poor Barnes al 
 most choking with rage at the remembrance of his 
 losses. He was absolutely too angry to utter a 
 syllable at the moment ; but as soon as he recovered 
 the use of his tongue he bawled after him, at the top 
 of his compass 
 
 Barnes. Good-by, old Shylock ! The day you 
 die there'll be a man hung ! Oh, that infernal Jacob 
 Barker ! 
 
 (Exit Barnes in a huff and Hackett convulsed with 
 laughter.) 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 HILSON AND PAUL PRY. 
 
 "It is a singular fact, but nevertheless eminently true, that of all persons, 
 actors in general are the worst judges of an unacted play. It was given in 
 evidence, before the committee of the House of Commons anent Dramatick 
 Affairs, that the plays which, by the unanimous consent of the green-room, had 
 been esteemed to be all that they ought to be, were, on the first night of repre 
 sentation, almost uniformly condemned." Sunbeam. 
 
 WE remember, on the first announcement of " Paul 
 Pry" at the Park theatre, meeting with Hilson just 
 as he was coming out of the house after rehearsal. 
 
 " Well," said we, "what sort of a piece is Paul 
 Pry?" 
 
 " Poor stuff," said Hilson. " It won't do." 
 
 " How do you like your own part?" 
 
 " Not at all it's very heavy : I wonder how Listen 
 made' anything of it." 
 
 " What sort of a part has Barnes ?" 
 
 " Not good." 
 
 " What will Mrs. Wheatley do with Mrs. Subtle?" 
 
 " Nothing the piece is bad !" 
 
 Who would have thought after this, that this same 
 play was performed at the Park by these same per 
 formers Barnes as Colonel Hardy, Hilson as Paul 
 Pry, and Mrs. Wheatley as Mrs. Subtle, upwards of 
 two hundred nights, and that it was decidedly the 
 most popular play ever produced at that theatre ? 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. H7 
 
 ORAL ANECDOTES OF WELL-KNOWN INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 WHEN Commodore Porter last visited this city, 
 he spent much of his time at the hospitable mansion 
 of the late General Morton, who, as every body knows, 
 was a gentleman of the old school, and a man of very 
 agreeable wit and compliment. The walls of the 
 general's library were graced with various produc 
 tions of the pencil and graver, and among them full- 
 length portraits of several distinguished naval offi 
 cers Decatur, Bainbridge, Perry, Morris, and 
 others. The commodore expressed his admiration 
 of the fidelity and effect of these ; but said they 
 were too large. " Now, I intend to add my portrait 
 to your collection shortly ; but it shall be done in 
 quite a different style." 
 
 " Then you do not like these ?" said the general. 
 
 " Not exactly," replied the commodore ; " there's 
 entirely too much canvas." 
 
 11 That's a very singular objection for you to 
 make," observed the facetious general, directing the 
 attention of his guest to a small picture representing 
 the engagement of the Essex with a frigate and a 
 sloop of war, off Valparaiso, which hung in one 
 corner of the room, " a very singular objection, 
 indeed, when we have before us an evidence that it 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 will require double the usual quantity of canvas to 
 take you" 
 
 There are many good stories in circulation re 
 specting our worthy fellow-citizen, Preserved Fish. 
 This gentleman, in early life, was a sea-captain. 
 One day his vessel was hailed by a brig, when the 
 following dialogue took place : 
 
 "Ship a-hoy?" 
 
 "Hallo!" 
 
 " Who's your captain ?" 
 
 " Preserved Fish." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Preserved Fish." 
 
 The master of the brig, thinking he was misun 
 derstood, and wondering at the stupidity of the 
 opposite party, again applied the trumpet to his 
 mouth and bawled out, 
 
 "I say, mister, I don't want to know what your 
 cargo is ; but what's your captain's n-a-m-e ?" 
 
 The late Major Fairlie was a marked, original and 
 peculiar character. When the new constitution of 
 this state was submitted to the people for adoption, 
 they were required to deposite either the word yes 
 or no in the ballot boxes. There was no accepting 
 the good and rejecting the bad parts of it. No alter 
 ation or amendment whatever would be permitted. 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. ]J9 
 
 It must either be taken as a whole, or not at all. 
 Major F. thought the new document, in many re 
 spects, far preferable to the old one, but he did not 
 altogether fancy it as it stood. On being asked his 
 opinion, he said, 
 
 " That instrument is like a good oyster, but it's 
 plaguy hard to be compelled to swallow the shells 
 along with it." ^*.* 
 
 The pious Mr. , who, by the way, is sus 
 pected of being no better than he should be, notwith 
 standing all his professions, a short time since rebuked 
 a well-known merchant of this city for using profane 
 language. 
 
 "Your discourse is ungentlemanly and impious," 
 
 said Mr. . " You should break yourself of such 
 
 an abominable practice." 
 
 " I know it," returned the dealer in cotton-bales 
 and profanity ; " but most men fall into some error 
 or other unknown to themselves, yet they are en- 
 , tirely innocent of all intention to do wrong, notwith- 
 **standing their little inaccuracies now I swear a 
 great deal, and you pray a great deal, yet neither of 
 , I'm confident, means any thing by it." 
 
 When Mr. Lee was mayor of the city of New- 
 York, he happened to be in conversation with a 
 
120 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 friend, as the omnibus, called " the Gideon Lee," 
 rolled past. 
 
 " I was aware," observed his companion, " that 
 your honour was destined to play many conspicuous 
 parts in the great drama of human life ; but I never 
 expected to see you on fae public stage!" 
 
 No man in this community had a larger circle of 
 acquaintance than the late Doctor Hosack. He stood 
 in Wall-street half an hour one morning, talking 
 with a friend, and almost every body spoke to him 
 as they passed. It is incredible the number of 
 nods and how-d'ye-dos and how-are-yes the worthy 
 physician received in the short space above men 
 tioned. These, however, were so numerous as to 
 induce his friend to remark 
 
 "Why, doctor, you appear to be pretty well known 
 in New-York ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the M. D., with a little pardonable 
 self-conceit, " I think, if I were to commit murder, 
 they would find me out." 
 
 " Why, yes," returned the other, " except you did 
 it in the way of your profession !" 
 
 The doctor, it is said, did not relish the joke. 
 
 Doctors are fond of ridiculing each other, and 
 their controversies are at times quite amusing. Now 
 it is well known that the practitioners of the old 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 school have a mortal antipathy to the disciples of the 
 new. Among your regular Galens, homoepathia 
 is exceedingly unpopular they scout it on all occa 
 sions. A lady called on Dr. Francis, an eminent 
 practitioner, and an adherent of the Sangrado sys 
 tem, with an imaginary complaint of the heart, and 
 was recommended by him in derision to try Dr. 
 Hahnemann's method. " What is that ?" asked the 
 invalid. " Why, madam." said he, " it is a sovereign 
 remedy for every complaint under the sun. In your 
 case, I would advise you to dissolve one grain of 
 muriate of soda (common salt) in a hogshead of 
 water, and take a teaspoonful every three months." 
 The lady followed the advice thus given, and strange 
 to say, after two doses, was entirely cured of her 
 complaint, and recommended it to others as a specific 
 in all similar cases. Such is the power of the 
 imagination ! 
 
 During the " panick" in the money market some 
 few years ago, a meeting of merchants was held in 
 the Exchange, to devise ways and means to extri 
 cate themselves from their pecuniary difficulties. 
 The great hall was crowded, addresses were made, 
 resolutions passed, committees appointed, and every 
 thing done that is usual and necessary. After all 
 this, one of the company moved that the meeting 
 stand adjourned until some future day, when up 
 
 K 
 
122 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 jumped a little jobber, in a great state of excitement, 
 and requested the merchants to linger a moment, as 
 he had something of the greatest importance to com 
 municate. The jobber was known to be a very 
 diffident person ; and, as he had never ventured on 
 the responsibilities of a speech on any former pub 
 lic occasion, all were anxious to hear what he had 
 to say. " Gentlemen," said he, with evident emo 
 tion, and in the most emphatic, feeling and eloquent 
 manner, " what's the use of talking of some future 
 day ? We want relief, I tell you ! immediate relief!" 
 and down he sat amidst a universal roar of laughter. 
 The next day he failed ! 
 
 The late Charles Gilfert, the quondam manager 
 of the Bowery theatre, was a peculiar fellow, and 
 one of the most fascinating men of his day. At 
 Albany he met with a Mr. Lemair, a Frenchman, of 
 whom he borrowed money until he nearly ruined 
 him. Lemair was one day in a towering rage at the 
 cause of his misfortunes, and used to tell the follow 
 ing characteristic story of his friend : " Monsieur 
 Charles Gilfert, he come to Albany. He have ruin 
 me in my business mes affaires. He borrow de 
 I 1 argent from me to large amount. He go to New- 
 York, and promise to send him, right avay, ver 
 quick. But, voyez-vous, when I write him, he re 
 turn me von reponse inconvenante, von impudent 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 answer, and say, I may go to de devil for look for 
 him. I leave Albany instantly, determined to have 
 the grand personal satisfaction for the affront he put 
 upon me. I walk straight avay from de bateau d 
 vapcur, de steamboat. I go to my boarding-house. 
 I procure von large stick, and rush out of de pe?ision 
 to meet him. By-and-by, bientot, I see him von large 
 vay off, very remotely. I immediately button up 
 my coat vith strong determination, and hold my 
 stick fierce in my hand, to break his neck several 
 time. Ven he come near, my indignation rise. 
 He put out his hand. I reject him. He smile, and 
 look over his spectacles at me. I say, you von 
 scoundrel, coquin infame. He smile de more, and 
 make un grand effort, a great trial, to pacify my 
 grande indignation, and before he leave me, he bor 
 row twenty dollare from me once more, by gar ! A 
 ver pleasant man vas Monsieur Charles Gilfert ; ver 
 nice man to borrow V argent, mafoi /" 
 
 Gilfert, like Sheridan, was in the habit of borrow 
 ing money from everybody, very little of which was 
 ever paid back ; but he always intended to return 
 it at the time he promised. He was a visionary 
 man, and did not make the best calculations in the 
 world. We heard of his meeting a friend in the 
 Bowery, one day, when the following circumstance 
 took place : 
 
124 LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. 
 
 " Ah," said Gilfert, " you are the very man I 
 wanted to see. Lend me two hundred dollars." 
 
 " I would, in a moment," replied his friend," "but 
 it is impossible. I have a note to pay, and I don't 
 know where to get the money." 
 
 " A note, said Gilfert, " so have I. Let me see 
 your notice." 
 
 The gentleman produced it from his pocket-book. 
 
 " Well," said Gilfert, "how much are you short ?" 
 
 " About two hundred dollars," said his friend. 
 To his utter surprise, Gilfert handed him the money. 
 
 " There," said he, " go and pay your note. I'll 
 let mine be protested, as they can't both be taken 
 up. If your note laid over, it might hurt your 
 credit, but with me it don't matter, as I am used to 
 that sort of business." 
 
 At one time Gilfert owed Conrad, the printer, a 
 bill. Conrad grew tired of dunning him for it, and 
 one day wrote Gilfert a letter, which put the mana 
 ger in a towering fury. Down he sat, arid challenged 
 Conrad to fight, declaring that if he refused, he 
 would horsewhip him in the public streets the next 
 day. Conrad returned for answer that he would 
 not fight, until his bill was paid, as no man in his 
 senses would voluntarily go out to shoot at his own 
 money. Some few weeks after this occurrence, 
 Gilfert had an unexpected windfall. Conrad re- 
 
LEAVES FROM A PORTFOLIO. J25 
 
 ceived a letter from him, couched in something like 
 the following terms : 
 
 " MY DEAR CONRAD I was wrong, but you had 
 no right to insult me. Yet I ought to have paid you 
 the money before. I enclose it to you now, prin 
 cipal and interest. Come and dine with me. Tout 
 a vous. 
 
 GlLFERT." 
 
 What a pity it is that some good writer would not 
 give us the memoirs of this extraordinary man. 
 
 K* 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
. 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE DAYS OF THE SHIN-PLASTERS. 
 
 " Who's in or out, who moves the grand machine, 
 
 Nor stirs my curiosity nor spleen ; 
 
 Secrets of state no more I wish to know 
 
 Than secret movements of a puppet show; 
 
 Let but the puppets move, I've my desire, 
 
 Unseen the hand which guides the master wire." Churchill. 
 
 "The benefits he sow'd in me, met not 
 
 Unthankful ground, but yielded him his own 
 
 With fair increase ; and still I glory in it." Massinger. 
 
 " The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
 The best conditioned and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies." Shakspeare. 
 
 WALL-STREET was in commotion. The pave 
 ments of that busy, bustling mart were crowded 
 with brokers, bank-directors, merchants, speculators, 
 politicians, editors, and all the other representatives 
 of the commercial metropolis. Care and anxiety 
 were written on every countenance. It was a time 
 
130 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 of unusual embarrassment. Commerce, trade, and 
 all the resources of the country were paralyzed. 
 Discontent and murmurings were heard in every 
 quarter. There was a panic. 
 
 " General Jackson had destroyed the country !" 
 said a whig. 
 
 " Mr. Biddle has curtailed our discounts !" said 
 a conservative. 
 
 " All confidence is lost !" said a reformer. 
 
 " And every merchant in New-York must fail !" 
 said a loco-foco. 
 
 " We are on the eve of a revolution !" ejaculated 
 a patriotic little stock-jobber, the chairman of a ward 
 meeting ; " and if we don't do away with the go 
 vernment, the government will do away with us ; 
 therefore, I say, down with the government !" 
 
 " Down with the bank !" responded an adminis 
 tration worthy near him, with equal fervour and 
 patriotism. 
 
 " Neither the government nor the bank are an 
 swerable for the present condition of things," said 
 a meddling little secretary of an insurance company, 
 who stepped in as mediator between the contending 
 parties. 
 
 " To what is it owing, then f" asked they. 
 
 " To the great fire of the sixteenth of December, 
 which destroyed one section of our city and twenty 
 millions of property." 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. ]31 
 
 " Not at all," said theeditor of a political journal, 
 who was supposed to know everything, past, present 
 and to come. " Our calamities are owing to the 
 enormous speculations which have taken place in 
 real estate. We needed a check of some sort. We 
 were buying lots in the moon and laying out litho 
 graphic cities in the stars, and the consequence is a 
 revulsion unparalleled in our annals." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the 
 news that some twenty new bankruptcies had oc 
 curred among the oldest mercantile houses in the 
 city ; that one bank had stopped payment, and that 
 a run had been commenced on the others. All was 
 confusion and dismay. Individuals were seen hur 
 rying to and fro with bags of coin upon their shoul 
 ders, of which they had just been draining the banks. 
 Idle rumours were everywhere circulated. 
 
 The president of one of the banks had committed 
 suicide, and others had absconded with the moneys 
 committed to their trust. Mobs were forming to lay 
 waste all the monied institutions of the city, and to 
 tumble the buildings about the ears of their officers. 
 The mayor had called out the military to preserve 
 the public peace. The police patroled the streets 
 by day, and the watch was doubled by night. The 
 citizens of New- York were in dread of fire and the 
 sword. 
 
 The hour of three, p. M., when all business ordi- 
 
MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 narily ceases in Wall-street, at length arrived. The 
 omnibusses, those most convenient things in the 
 world, (only when you want them, particularly on 
 rainy days, they are either full or going the wrong 
 way,) rumbled over the pavements. The multitude 
 began to scatter ; but, long after the money deposi 
 tories were closed, might be seen lingering around 
 the bulletins of the newspaper-offices, knots of anx 
 ious, discontented spirits, talking over the events of 
 the day and anticipating the horrors of the morrow. 
 
 It was in one of these little assemblies that Mr. 
 Beverley Lee, a handsome, fashionable, light-hearted 
 young fellow, a contributor to the periodicals and 
 an author of no mean celebrity, became a partici 
 pator in the all-engrossing conversations of the times. 
 Mivins, an opulent, influential broker, who was ac 
 counted " a good man" on 'change, and proudly 
 denominated in that vicinity " a bear," took him by 
 the button, and pointing out the ruins of a building 
 that had fallen to the ground not long before, said, 
 
 " That, sir, is now all that remains of those who 
 were nick-named the Rothschilds of this country." 
 
 " I am sorry for their misfortunes," said Lee. 
 
 " Sorry !" rejoined the broker, " if my wish could 
 be realized, not only they, but all the Jews in New- 
 York should be buried in the ruins." 
 
 " Why so ?" said Belmont, a calm, dignified, sil 
 very-haired, feeble old gentleman, who stood next 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 133 
 
 to Lee, and who had been listening to their discourse 
 without taking any part in it. 
 
 " Because," said Mivins, raising his voice, and 
 clenching his hand with strong emotion, " in my 
 opinion, it's part of the religious creed of a Jew to 
 cheat a Christian." 
 
 " The Christian religion does not teach you that 
 precept," said Belmont, mildly, a slight flush passing 
 over his fine countenance as he turned upon his heel 
 to depart. 
 
 " Stop, sir," said Mivins, placing his hand upon 
 the old gentleman's shoulder and detaining him, " if 
 you mean any thing by what you have just said, you 
 mean to insult me, and thus I resent it," added he, 
 furiously, spitting upon his garments. 
 
 Belmont instantly rushed upon his assailant, and 
 Lee, perceiving his danger, flung himself between 
 the parties just in time to receive the blow aimed at 
 his new acquaintance full upon his own stal worth 
 bosom. A scuffle ensued ; but the parties were 
 soon separated. Not, however, until cards had been 
 exchanged, and the residence of each individual 
 ascertained . That evening Mivins was waited upon 
 with a cartel, and a meeting appointed for the morn 
 ing. Lee did not retire to rest until late that night ; 
 his mind was filled with contending emotions. It 
 was the first time his person had ever been profaned 
 by a blow, and he was on the eve of washing out 
 
 L 
 
134 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 the stain upon his honour with his blood. Of all 
 characters on earth, he detested that of a duellist 
 most ; but he was young, ardent, and full of those 
 false notions of honour which have deprived the 
 world of some of its brightest ornaments. The few 
 hours that were left him before the meeting, were 
 employed in making his testament, and in writing to 
 one who was dearer to him than life. To her he 
 enclosed a lock of his hair, and a tear fell upon its 
 glossy brightness at the thought that they might 
 never meet again. 
 
 At the break of day, which was cold, comfortless 
 and misty, two small boats were seen shooting 
 across the Hudson river towards the Jersey shore. 
 They arrived at nearly the same time. Lee and 
 Mivins stood upon the bloodstained spot where 
 Hamilton fell. As the parties were ab^pt taking 
 their stations, they were interrupted by the sudden 
 appearance of the venerable Belmont, who had been 
 the innocent cause of their meeting. Approaching 
 Lee, he said 
 
 " Young man, this quarrel is mine ;" and, turning 
 to Mivins, he continued, " from you, sir, I expect 
 atonement for the affront you offered me yesterday." 
 
 " I came here," replied Mivins, " to fight, not to 
 talk. Finding myself in the wrong, however, I am 
 willing to make such atonement as is in my power. 
 Of you, sir, I ask pardon for what was done in a 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 135 
 
 moment of excitement, and which, I hope, your 
 generosity will forgive." 
 
 Mr. Belmont received his apology, and they ap 
 proached Mr. Lee, who stood pistol in hand, waiting 
 
 - , y.-* ' V'SKf V- -' ''V ; 
 
 the result of their conversation. 
 
 " Mr. Lee," said the broker, " if a voluntary- 
 apology will be accepted by you for an insult which 
 I certainly never intended, I am prepared to make 
 one." 
 
 " Proceed, sir," said Lee. 
 
 " The blow, sir, was not directed at you, but at 
 this gentleman. I sincerely regret what has hap 
 pened ; and as an evidence of my conviction that I 
 was to blame, allow me to state in the presence of 
 these gentlemen, that had not this interruption taken 
 place, I intended to have received your fire unre- 
 turned ; and, if I were living, to have made the 
 concessions which I now freely tender." 
 
 Lee took the broker's proffered hand, and they all 
 returned to the boat of Mr. Belmont. When they 
 were seated, Belmont said to Mr. Lee 
 
 " You, sir, have done me a service, and I have 
 registered it, * where every day I'll turn the leaf to 
 read it.' Like the Indian missionary, 'injuries I 
 write on sand, but benefits upon marble.' " 
 
 Lee did not reply ; but there was something in 
 Mr. Belmont' s tone and manner that strangely in 
 terested him, and he returned the pressure of his 
 hand with all the warmth of glowing friendship. 
 
136 
 
 MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 But little of moment occurred on the water except 
 meeting, when about half way across, a mysterious 
 looking craft running foul of a schooner in the mist, 
 which it was afterwards ascertained contained the 
 burly person of Old Hays and a posse of police 
 officers, making their clumsy way to the scene of 
 action ; but, as usual, these worthies were too late to 
 prevent the violation of the law or a breach of the 
 peace. 
 
 After the veritable events, which, like faithful 
 chroniclers we have just recorded, a scene of confu 
 sion took place in the city of New- York which baffles 
 all description. The banks suspended specie pay 
 ments ; gold and silver were at a high premium. 
 The town was inundated with a species of small pa- 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 137 
 
 per currency, issued by every individual wishing to 
 make money, specimens of which have been preserv 
 ed as curiosities to the present day. These were 
 small pieces of pasteboard, commonly called " shin- 
 plasters," having printed thereon in Roman capitals, 
 " good for six and a quarter cents," or any other 
 sum which seemed good to the person issuing the 
 same, and having his own Christian and sirname 
 legibly writt ^n in the right hand corner of the paper. 
 These circulated as freely among the community as 
 omnibus tickets or bank notes, and possessed really 
 about as much intrinsic value. 
 
 The term shin-plaster originated with an old sol 
 dier of the revolutionary war, who, after fighting the 
 battles of his country, was left to penury and want 
 by a government, who paid him for his services in 
 what was commonly denominated, " continental 
 money," which, after the peace, it refused to redeem. 
 This old soldier had received a wound upon the leg 
 at the battle of "Bunker Hill ;" and believing that 
 the money was printed upon paper of an adhesive 
 quality, and knowing it to be good for nothing else, 
 he was in the habit of dressing his wound with the 
 rags, and calling them " shin plasters;" hence the 
 name, which will always stick to them to the end of 
 the world. 
 
138 
 
 MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 The city, as we said, was in commotion. The in 
 habitants seemed beside themselves. Every one ap 
 peared to be acting a part in the great comedy of 
 " Frightened to Death." The example set by the 
 merchant was followed by all other classes. Stopping 
 payment was universal. All business was at a stand 
 still. Men assembled in clusters on the corners of 
 the streets. Argument ran high, and the everlasting 
 words of General Jackson Tammany-Hall The 
 Monster Bribery and Corruption Nick Biddle 
 Veto Pewter Mug Ruin Loco-Foco Real Es 
 tate Henry Clay The People Fanny Wright 
 and other villanous compounds of the alphabet, were 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 139 
 
 dinned into the ears of all who would listen to 
 them. Enormous hand-bills were posted about the 
 city, calling public-meetings in the Park. Com 
 mittees were appointed to go to Washington and 
 Albany. Processions of tatterdemalions moved 
 through the streets with bands of music and co 
 lours flying. Those who had notes to pay were 
 shinning it to borrow the money. If they succeeded, 
 the notes were paid ; if not,, they were laid over, 
 and nothing more was thought of the matter. Men 
 of all professions, callings, and occupations, were 
 idle, except the notaries, who fattened on the dis 
 tresses of all around them, and were busy from the 
 time the banks closed until late in the evening, pro 
 testing the notes of all unfortunate makers of the 
 same who were unable to cancel them as they had 
 promised. 
 
 Woful were the misgivings of the merchants ; 
 woful were the forebodings of the mechanic ; and 
 woful were the apprehensions and countenances of 
 all misguided victims who had speculated in building 
 lots and lithographic cities ! 
 
 Mr. Beverley Lee, we are sorry to say, was one 
 of this latter class. On his leaving college, he came 
 into possession of fifty thousand dollars. Being an 
 embryo author, whose craft taught him to build cas 
 tles in the air a man of fancy young, ardent, and 
 inexperienced, and hearing what immense fortunes 
 
140 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 had been amassed by speculating iii lots, in an evil 
 hour he attended a sale of real estate at the " Mer 
 chants Exchange." 
 
 He bought lots on the Avenues he bought lots at 
 Harlem he bought lots at New-Brighton he bought 
 lots at Skaneateles he bought lots at Jamaica he 
 bought lots at Buffalo he bought lots at Cahawba 
 he bought lots in Texas and, in short, he bought 
 lots everywhere. He had building lots, and water 
 lots, and all sorts of lots. He was the owner of 
 towns, villages, and counties. 
 
 To obtain these invaluable privileges, he had paid 
 every farthing of his fifty thousand dollars, had 
 given his notes for several hundred thousand, and 
 mortgaged his estate to an unimaginable amount. 
 He was a great landholder one of the lords of the 
 soil. His. word was good on 'change. Bank direc 
 tors took their hats off to him. Dealers in fancy 
 stock greeted him with smiles ; and Mr. Beverley 
 Lee was a man estimated to be worth millions of 
 dollars. While this delusion lasted, everything 
 went on swimmingly. What the people thought of 
 Mr. Beverley Lee, Mr. Beverley Lee thought of 
 himself. It was an exceedingly agreeable thing to 
 be rich very rich, enormously rich, and to become 
 so too all of a sudden, and without the least exertion. 
 Mr. Beverley Lee purchased a town-house, a coun 
 try-house, a villa on the banks of the Hudson, and 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 he embellished his mansions with gorgeous furniture. 
 He gave entertainments to his friends, and regaled 
 them with costly viands. He rolled in riches. It 
 was pleasant very. 
 
 Time, however, that rigid schoolmaster, taught 
 Mr. Beverley Lee a lesson, which it would have been 
 better for him had he sooner learned. He knew he 
 became suddenly rich, but it never occurred to him 
 that he might become suddenly poor. True, he had 
 read that riches take to themselves wings and fly 
 away ; but he had read that passage as applicable to 
 other men, not to himself. When the veto came, 
 he opened his eyes, and began to look about him. 
 He feared there would be a storm, but he did not 
 look for a tornado. First came the assessors, and 
 demanded of him a thumping sum of money for open 
 ing streets and improving his property. This Mr. 
 Beverley Lee paid, thinking it very kind in them to 
 take such good care of his interests, considering he 
 had not the honour of their acquaintance. Next 
 came the tax-gatherers, with large demands, which 
 Mr. Beverley Lee cancelled with rather a sorry 
 grace. Then came the holders of mortgages for 
 their interest, which drained Mr. Beverley Lee of 
 his last shilling, and he was obliged to have recourse 
 to the banks for a new discount to keep up ap 
 pearances. 
 
142 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 This he readily obtained, and things went on 
 very well with Mr. Beverley Lee, until the banks 
 were compelled to deny him farther favours. Then 
 his difficulties began to thicken. The notes he had 
 given for his property fell due one after the other, 
 and were protested. In walked the auctioneer, and 
 began to knock down his beautiful furniture, his li 
 brary, his racing-stud, his country-house,, his town- 
 house, and everything that was his, real or imagi 
 nary. His lots, building and water, reverted to their 
 original owners; and Mr. Beverley Lee, was, in the 
 year eighteen hundred and thirty-six, obliged to 
 " waddle" out of Wall-street as " lame a duck" as was 
 ever hatched in that nest of disappointment and 
 speculation. 
 
 In an elegantly finished mansion near the Battery, 
 about a year after the events just related, a family 
 were seated round the evening fireside. Emily 
 Withers was reclining on an ottoman, listening to 
 the conversation of her parents and Mr. Larence 
 Payne, a young attorney of small practice, but large 
 expectations, who professed a great regard for the 
 Withers in general, and the young lady in particu 
 lar, who had on several occasions given him the most 
 unequivocal proofs of her utter aversion. He, how 
 ever, was not easily discouraged, and continued his 
 visits, in the hopes of one day possessing not only 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 143 
 
 the heart, but, what was of more consequence to 
 him, the fortune of the lady. 
 
 Emily, was a lovely, dark-eyed girl, perfect in 
 form and feature, and the reigning belle and beauty 
 of the town. She was an only child, and the sole 
 hope of her fond and doating parents. She was very 
 beautiful, and throngs of admirers had sought her 
 hand in vain. On her first entrance into society, 
 she was a light-hearted, merry creature, full of mirth 
 and good-humour ; but of late and wherefore, none 
 could tell, a sad depressing melancholy had taken 
 possession of her thoughts ; and, as she leaned her 
 head upon her hand, which was buried in her lux 
 uriant tresses, the most casual might observe that 
 all was not at ease about her heart. She was 
 listening, we said, to the conversation ; and when 
 Mr. Lee's name was mentioned, a crimson flush 
 stole over the pearly texture of her face and bosom, 
 which spoke more truly than words, that she listened 
 with an interest she in vain endeavoured to conceal. 
 "I do not think," said Mr. Withers, " that Mr. 
 Lee is the man you represent him." 
 
 " I am sure he is not," said his wife ; and the 
 eyes of Emily kindled with emotion as her mother 
 spoke. 
 
 " What !" said Payne, " did he not cheat all his 
 creditors, and run away f" 
 
 " I have heard that his failure was owing to the 
 fall of real estate," said Mr. Withers. 
 
144 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 "And from whom did you hear that?" inquired 
 Payne. 
 
 " From my friend Mivens, the broker, with whom 
 you may recollect he had a duel, which " 
 
 "Ended in smoke," said the attorney, with a 
 smirk, intended to convey a stronger meaning than 
 his words expressed. 
 
 " Yet, in that affair, Mivins said he behaved like 
 a man of the strictest honour." 
 
 " Honour !" said the attorney, emphatically ; yet, 
 at the same time, drawling out the word lago-like, 
 as l though there was some hidden monster in his 
 thought.' 
 
 " Yes, sir, honour. Mivins says that affair bound 
 him to Lee for ever, and that he would endorse his 
 honour with his life. He also declared that, when 
 he heard of Lee's embarrassments, he would have 
 assisted him to the utmost extent of his means, if he 
 could have found him; but he had disappeared, and 
 no one knew whither he had gone." 
 
 " Mivins, you know, my dear," said he to his 
 wife, " though an impetuous, hasty man, has a noble, 
 generous heart." 
 
 " He has, indeed, my dear," replied Mrs. Withers. 
 During the last part of this conversation, Emily had, 
 unperceived by any one, unfolded a small billet- 
 doux, which contained a lock of dark glossy hair ; 
 and a liquid pearl shot into her eye as she recalled 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 345 
 
 the image of him who had sent it, and read over the 
 kind words of affection that accompanied the trea 
 sured relick. Looking up, she noticed that the eyes 
 of the attorney were riveted upon her; she hastily 
 concealed the note in her bosom, and turned upon 
 him a glance of cold contempt and indignation. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Payne," inquired Mrs. With 
 ers, " what became of Mr. Lee after his failure ?" 
 
 "I know nothing more than I have told you," said 
 Payne. " I could not keep the run of him. He gave 
 me leg-bail for the last suit I brought against him, 
 which I believe was all the bail he had to give. I 
 wish I could catch him now." 
 
 " What for ?" asked Withers. 
 
 " To lock him up." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I never liked him." 
 
 " What offence has he given you ?" 
 
 " None ; but I always considered him a man of 
 shallow parts a self-conceited, inflated coxcomb 
 a bankrupt, who defrauded honest people out of their 
 just demands, and who proved himself a coward, 
 by running away from those whom he had not the 
 courage to face." 
 
 Emily rose from her seat, her eyes flashing fire, 
 and her lip quivering like a rose-leaf in a storm. 
 
 " Silence, sir ! I wonder you do not blush to slan 
 der the innocent in their absence. I am ashamed to 
 
 M 
 
146 MR * BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 have remained here so long to hear him abused. 
 6 A man of shallow parts !' If you possessed but a 
 moiety of his mind, you might be a gentleman. * A 
 coward,' sir ! It would be more than your perni 
 cious soul is worth, to breathe that in his presence. 
 O shame upon you, to make his misfortunes your 
 triumph ! I'll not hear you, sir," continued Emily, 
 as the crest-fallen attorney was about to reply. 
 " You have slandered the absent, and insulted those 
 present ; and I wonder my parents have listened to 
 you so long." As she spoke these words, she quitted 
 the apartment, leaving her father and mother in 
 mute astonishment, and the attorney riveted to the 
 spot. 
 
 The feelings of Payne may be imagined. He had 
 missed the mark at which he aimed, and wounded 
 the heart he hoped to win. He left the house shortly 
 afterwards sunk in his own estimation, and se 
 riously meditating a jaunt to Texas. 
 
 On the following afternoon, just before five, the 
 wharf at the foot of Courtlandt-street was filled with 
 people of all descriptions, making their way out of 
 the city. It was near the hour for the departure of 
 the steamboats, and consequently carts, carriages, 
 and omnibusses men, women, and children 
 wheelbarrows, porters, carriers and news-boys, were 
 crowded together promiscuously. 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 147 
 
 " Here's the Courier and Enquirer, sir." 
 
 " Here's the Star, sir ; buy the good old major, 
 sir, for a trifle." 
 
 " Three Americans for sixpence, sir." 
 
 " Sun, Transcript, Herald, and New Era." 
 
 " Baggage for West-Point, sir." 
 
 " That's your bandbox, ma'am, which the porter 
 smashed. I'll take care of it for you, ma'am." 
 
 " Do, Peter, that's a good lad." 
 
 " All ashore that's going." 
 
 " Haul in the plank." 
 
 Whiz phiz whiz. 
 
 " Let go that line haul in." 
 
 And away darted the North America, like a foam 
 ing steed let loose, boldly and gallantly, out into the 
 sparkling river. 
 
 Ding-a-ling-a-ling " All those as has not settled 
 their fare, step to the capting's office and do it 
 there." Ding-a-ling. 
 
 And by the time the passage is paid and the lug 
 gage recovered, the passengers find themselves 
 splashing and dashing beneath the Palisades, some 
 miles on their way to Albany. 
 
 The departure of the steamboats from the city, on 
 a clear summer's afternoon, is a beautiful sight. 
 They all leave at the same hour, and they shoot from 
 the innumerable piers out into the glassy stream in 
 such numbers, that one would think half the popu- 
 
148 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 lation were slipping away, and wonder how it is 
 they are not missed from the metropolis. 
 
 Among those on board the North America, were 
 Mr. and Mrs. Withers and their lovely daughter, 
 who had just commenced the fashionable tour of the 
 season. But their presence was forgotten or un 
 noticed, in the circulation of a report which spread 
 like a panic among the passengers, that a notorious 
 individual, of whom everybody had heard, but whom 
 nobody had seen, was on board. This person had 
 made more noise in the city of New-York, than any 
 one who had lived since the abdication of Peter 
 Stuyvesant. He of the Iron-mask the author of 
 Junius the Great Unknown had not excited more 
 curiosity in their day and generation, than the mys 
 terious being of whom we are now writing. To 
 that strange character had been attributed all the 
 manifold disasters of the country : the hard times 
 the suspension of specie payments the troubles of 
 abolition, and every other evil that threatened the 
 safety of the republic. He possessed a wonderful 
 faculty for doing mischief, and what was more won 
 derful still, a sort of magical ubiquity, for he was 
 here, there, and everywhere at the same time. At 
 one moment he was in Wall-street, levelling the 
 banks with staves and Hudgeons ; at another, he 
 was assaulting the arsenal of the state, (where, by 
 the way, it is said he captured and imprisoned the 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 149 
 
 commissary-general, his son George, and Cornelius 
 the carpenter.) He was a great " agitator," and his 
 name struck terror to the hearts and souls of the 
 Gothamites. 
 
 " Who could he be ?" asked everybody ; but no 
 body knew. 
 
 From what we have just said, the reader will at 
 once perceive that " the man in the claret-coloured 
 coat" was on board the steamer. 
 
 But where he was, or what he was, or who he 
 was, remained as profound a mystery as the philo 
 sopher's stone. 
 
 The shades of evening thickened among the High 
 lands, and the dew-dropping clouds hung like misty 
 veils over the hill-tops, concealing their beauty and 
 shrouding them from the sight.. The passengers re 
 tired to their cabins, and, notwithstanding the curi 
 osity of all, the man in the claret-coloured coat was 
 nowhere to be seen, although it was ascertained to a 
 certainty that he was on board. The North Amer 
 ica arrived in Albany before the break of day, and 
 long ere any of the sleepers were stirring, that 
 shadowy, invisible spirit had gone on shore and 
 " vanished into thin air." 
 
 Some said he was on his way to Canada to join 
 the patriots ; and, for the peace of the good city of 
 New- York, we not only hope the story is true, but 
 
 It' 
 
150 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 that the arch-fiend in human shape may be shot there, 
 and trouble our worthy fellow-citizens no more. 
 
 At Albany, Emily Withers and her parents took 
 the cars for Saratoga, where we shall leave them to 
 drink the hygeian-waters, and pass away the sultry 
 months of summer. 
 
 Seated in a gloomy apartment in a remote part of 
 the town, was a poor author pale and emaciated, 
 and just recovering from a protracted indisposition, 
 that had nearly brought him to the grave. He was 
 completing a new work of fiction for the press of 
 Lea and Blanchard, who, with a liberality usual 
 with those enlightened bibliopoles, when they dis 
 cover undoubted genius and unemployed talent, had 
 paid for the work in advance, and thus prevented 
 the author from starving while he wrote. A table, 
 a few chairs, writing materials, the works of Shaks- 
 peare, Walter Scott and Washington Irving, were 
 the principal articles in his room. The author's 
 loose morning-gown, like himself, had seen better 
 days; and his shirt-collar being unbuttoned and 
 falling on his shoulders, disclosed a throat and head 
 that might have furnished a study for the sculptor. 
 His pale features were occasionally lighted with a 
 smile, and fire kindled in his thoughtful eye as the 
 rich treasures of his mind were poured upon the 
 paper. The work was finished. He laid aside his 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 pen, and leaning his head upon his hand, communed 
 with himself. 
 
 " My task is accomplished. The desire of my 
 heart is at length fulfilled, and though times have 
 sadly changed with me, and the blind goddess 
 proven herself a fickle jade, yet I feel that by indus 
 try and my pen, I may yet retrieve my sunken for 
 tunes. Well, the past were pleasant days, but they 
 have vanished, and with them all the hopes they 
 inspired. Pain, penury, and disease have long ex 
 iled me from the world ; but I shall return to it 
 again, a wiser, and I trust a better man. O Emily, 
 why does your bright image mingle with all my 
 fondest recollections of by-gone times ? You have 
 forgotten me now ; yet, how devotedly have I loved. 
 Proud, passionate and wealthy, the world is all be 
 fore you where to choose ; and, though in the hours 
 of my prosperity, hope flattered me with the belief 
 that you would one day be mine, it would be pre 
 sumption now. No, Emily, that golden dream is 
 over my heart is breaking at the thought that you 
 never, never can be mine !" 
 
 Little knew Mr. Lee (it was he who spoke,) the 
 heart of faithful, trusting, doating woman. When 
 her affections are once bestowed, she smiles at t all 
 the reverses of the world, and her love endures when 
 all else perishes. Woman's love is like the hardy 
 evergreen of our own native groves, and looks as 
 
152 MR - BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 cheerful in the storms of winter as when the genial 
 airs of spring-time play around its branches, and all 
 the other trees of the forest dress themselves in 
 holliday apparel, amid the melody of birds and the 
 silvery sounds of running waters. 
 
 Our author's revery was broken by a knock at the 
 door of his apartment ; he arose to let the intruder 
 in, and the detested person of Larence Payne stood 
 before him. 
 
 "So," said the attorney, " I have found you at 
 last. Snug quarters these quite out of the way of 
 the bailiffs, eh, Mr. Lee ? Well, this is much better 
 than paying notes, interest, assessments and taxes. 
 Eve^thing quite comfortable and snug, I declare." 
 
 " To what," said Lee, recovering from his sur 
 prise, " am I indebted for this intrusion?" 
 
 " Intrusion ! Well, I like that phraseology. No 
 intrusion at all not in the ]east. I came by order 
 of a court of law, and here are two bailiffs with writs 
 in their pockets for you ; so you see you are wanted 
 and must go." 
 
 " If you were not beneath my notice, I would 
 throw you out of the window for your impertinence," 
 said Lee. " Solely on account of your insignificance, 
 I let you escape !" 
 
 " Excessively glad to hear it," said Mr. Larence 
 Payne, as, with an oblique movement, he made the 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 153 
 
 best of his way down stairs, followed by the sheriffs 
 and their prisoner. 
 
 On their arrival at the City-hall, Mr. Lee was 
 astonished to learn that every judgment against him 
 had been cancelled on the record, arf& that he was 
 free from debt and at liberty. At this unexpected 
 news, the attorney, unperceived by anyone, skulked 
 away from the Hall, and was soon in a place of 
 concealment. 
 
 Mr. Lee was lost in amazement at this unlooked- 
 for stroke of good fortune. He breathed more freely 
 than he had done for months. It seemed as though 
 a mountain of difficulty had been rolled from his 
 mind ; he was a new creature. But who was his 
 benefactor ? What generous spirit was it that step 
 ped forward in his moment of greatest need and re 
 leased him from bondage ? Was it Mivins the 
 broker ? It must be he. Lee knew no other indi 
 vidual in the world capable of such an act. It was 
 like him. It was noble. 
 
 Within the last year a change had come over the 
 destinies of New-York. Commerce once more 
 spread her snowy pinions to the breeze. The ham 
 mer sounded cheerfully upon the anvil. The banks 
 resumed the payment of specie. Confidence was 
 restored. Talent, enterprise and industry again re 
 ceived their merited reward, and bright hearts and 
 smiling faces were everywhere to be seen. It seemed 
 
154 M R- BEVERLEY LEE. 
 
 as though the wand of Prospero had been at work 
 such a change came over the whole community. 
 The gay and fashionable had returned from their 
 summer tour, and Emily Withers was once more in 
 town, improved in health and radiant in beauty. 
 
 It was an autumn evening. A line of carriages 
 stood in State-street and round the Battery, their 
 lamps sparkling like fire-flies among the trees, and 
 illuminating the neighbourhood far and near. The 
 house of Mr. Withers streamed with light, and was 
 thronged with company. There was a wedding- 
 there. The guests had all arrived. Among them 
 the venerable Belmont, who was the presiding ge 
 nius of the scene. 
 
 When in England, whither he had gone, shortly 
 after the duel mentioned in the early part of this 
 narrative, he heard of Lee's misfortunes, and taking 
 the first packet, he hastened to relieve them. -On 
 his arrival in New-York, he cancelled all his respon 
 sibilities, for his wealth was inexhaustible, and set 
 tled upon Mr. Lee the fifty thousand dollars he had 
 so thoughtlessly lost in his speculations, and had 
 hither come to witness the happiness of his friend 
 in his union with the blooming Emily. 
 
 " Why have you taken such an interest in that 
 young man f" asked Mivins the broker. 
 
MR. BEVERLEY LEE. 155 
 
 " He did me a service, and it is a debt of gratitude 
 paid by a Jew to a Christian" 
 
 My story is done " But what," asks the reader, 
 "became of little Payne the attorney?" 
 
 He did not go to Texas, but to Canada, to fight 
 the battles of the patriots. 
 
 " And died there ?" 
 
 " Yes, gallantly fighting by the side of THE MAN