A BOY'S REMINISCENCES.

I was born December 12, 1795, in the city of Albany. We soon removed to New Galway, Saratoga County, which at that time was situated on the extreme border of civilization, and in the vicinity of the road which Burgoyne cut through the woods just before his defeat and capture on the heights of Saratoga. From Galway we removed to Stillwater, or Half-Moon Point as it was sometimes called.

We continued our progress toward New York by removal to the village of Haverstraw, now called Warren, in Rockland County. The commercial intercourse of this town with the outside world was carried on by means of a single sloop, and that a small one, named "The Farmer's Daughter." Her freight consisted of cord wood and farm produce, with now and then a solitary passenger who was anxious to see the great city. The majestic Hudson at this place is some six or eight miles wide, forming an extensive bay. A strong gale from the South produces such a swell that the bay might almost be mistaken for an ocean.

During our residence at Haverstraw my father was employed in the stone quarry at Nyack, some ten or twelve miles down the river. The stone so freely used in the construction of edifices, public and private, in the city of New York, the forts on the three islands-Governor's, Gibbet, Ellis's-and Castle Garden, came from this quarry and the two at Newark and Belleville.

In the Autumn of the year 1803 we left Haverstraw in the sloop and arrived safe at the dock in the great city of Gotham. During the Summer and early Autumn the yellow fever had been prevalent and often fatal in the lower part of the city, and many families removed to the suburbs or country.

*

That part of the city, or more properly the suburbs, including Jane, Horatio, West Twelfth, Bethune, West Eleventh and Perry streets, and from the river out to Greenwich avenue, was then known as Greenwich village. The village was nearly west of what is now known as Washington square, at that time Potter's

*The deaths this year, from July 26th to November, were six hundred and seventy.

Field. In front of the village was located the first State prison, with its front on the road and its yard extending to the river.

In this village we obtained a small vacant tenement, the most of the houses being occupied already by families from the infected portions of the city. Then, with my brother Calvin, who was my inseparable companion, I commenced the exploration of the city. Day by day we extended our peregrinations, and after many a weary walk we arrived at the Battery at the extreme south end of the island.

The city, its extent, condition and appearance were as I saw them in the Autumn of 1803 and the Summer of 1804, but the incidents which I shall relate transpired in all the years up to 1811, when I left the city for New Jersey, where I went to learn my trade, being sixteen years of age. The years 1815 and 1816, when I was once more a resident of the city, together with occasional short visits since that time, complete my personal knowledge of New York city.

The Battery was all of four miles from Greenwich village. Its front was a stone wall laid in mason work, six feet above high water mark, and surmounted by a post and joist railing. Some ten or twelve rods in the rear of this was the fort, which was in the form of a crescent. Its perpendicular front, six feet in height, was composed of large square timbers. The interior was so filled with earth as to form a gentle declivity to the plane below, where the star spangled banner floated from the flagstaff on each national holiday. The fort was well supplied with cannon, both of iron and brass, many of which exhibited on the breech a crown and the initials G. R., signifying that they once belonged to King George. They had either been taken in battle or left by the British when they had evacuated the city. On each returning Fourth of July the remaining few of the old Revolutionary guards assembled, clad in the old uniform of blue with yellow facings, having gaiters upon their feet, the old chapeau upon their heads, hair profusely powdered, their swords newly brightened and their belts and scabbards newly whitewashed. Their duty on that day consisted in the firing of the national salute of thirteen guns upon the first appearance of the sun. The fort, the guns and the veterans have long since passed away. The Battery was then,

and for many years afterwards, a beautiful promenade laid out in ample squares of green turf with convenient interstices of broad gravel walks and thickly studded with large trees of elm and maple. Here of a Summer's afternoon might be seen nurses with their infant charges disporting in the shade upon the soft green carpet and inhaling the health inspiring breeze as it came fresh and pure through the Narrows from the ocean. Here, too, came children of a larger growth, some to spend a leisure hour in the enjoyment of the beautiful scenery spread out before them and others for the mere relaxation from labor. The spacious bay before them would be alive with sails of all descriptions, from the little fairylike pleasure boat up to the huge East Indiaman, with all the sails spread to the wind, going out or returning with valuable cargoes. Just in front were the islands, Ellis's and Gibbet, and in the distance Staten Island, before which was a small fleet of foreign shipping riding out at Quarantine. A little to the left was Governor's Island with its fort and the three story battery of Castle Williams, while around the point of the island the Narrows were visible for quite distance towards the ocean. On the left also was Long Island, with the city of Brooklyn and the East River. Within the range of vision on the right was New Jersey with its Snake Hill looming up far above the surrounding country. Near the west end of the Battery there was built during the war of 1812 a large circular fort, which is now known as Castle Garden. After the war closed it became a pleasure garden, much frequented by the young during the Summer months. was here that Lafayette landed when he visited this country; likewise Gen. Jackson when he made his Northern tour, and Black Hawk with his son Tommy Hawk. Black Hawk upon witnessing a balloon ascension dryly remarked that the white man might as well continue his journey up and pay a visit to the Great Spirit.

It

Greenwich was then the lowest street towards the river, but now Washington and West streets are below it. On the corner facing the Battery stood an unpretending two story house in which Robert Fulton, the successful inventor of the steamboat, lived and died. Going north, at the Albany Basin, between Rector and Thames streets, the Albany boats discharged their cargoes of lumber and produce and received their return freight of for

eign and domestic goods. On the right or upper side of the street was the graveyard of Trinity Church, and on the left the Basin. The river at that time came so near Greenwich street that at ebb tide the bottom at the dock was bare for quite a dis

tance.

Our family resided in Liberty street near the dock when I was twelve years old. One day I ventured too near the end of the pier and slipped in feet foremost. When I came to the surface I found myself fifteen or twenty feet from the dock, with the tide rapidly running out. I struck out vigorously for land, which I was successful in reaching, when I was helped up by a stonecutter who was attracted by the screams of my sister.

On the southwest corner of Cortlandt street was the first museum in the city. It was owned by a Mr. Savage. In that museum for the first time I saw the great white polar bear, or rather his skin stuffed; there was also on exhibition a Suwarrow boot of colossal size. The Suwarrow boot afterwards became very fashionable in the city. Mr. Savage kept an electric battery for the benefit of his visitors, whom he delighted in shocking. The museum was sold, whereupon it was considerably enlarged and became known as Scudder's. It was finally sold to the great Barnum. So the little insignificant museum of Savage was the nucleus of the most varied and extensive collection of curiosities in the country.

At the foot of this street was the only ferry to New Jersey. The conveyance was in boats with two sails and without decks called periaugers, which were used when there was wind, and long, narrow rowboats in calm weather. No carriages were taken across then, and horses seldom, as they must be forced or rather tumbled into the periauger when necessary to be taken.

My brother Calvin was of light complexion, his face, however, deeply pitted by smallpox. He had unconsciously acquired the Irish brogue from working among Irish workmen. As a natural result he was often mistaken for a native of "the isle that Nature formed so fair." One day a cartman, accosted him in this wise: My friend, I have a favor to ask, but believe me, I mean no disrespect to you or your nation. I have often heard it asserted that no venomous animal can live when in the hand of an Irish

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man, and I wish you to hold this toad in your hand that the truth of the assertion may be known." It required the repeated declaration of my brother that he was born in the State just across the river to convince the man that he was an American.

In Partition street, now Fulton street, was located the Bear Market, which extended along the block to Vesey street and down Vesey to the river. Its front was the meat market and the end toward the river vegetables and fish. The structure was a mere shed open at both sides and ends, its roof supported by wooden posts placed along the sides at proper intervals. How unlike the large and beautiful Washington Market, which occupies the ground between the river and where the old market was!

There was one curiosity which I have nowhere else seen. On a neat little sign was painted "Jew's Meat." This stall the Jews patronized, being assured that the animals were slaughtered in accordance with their law or tradition which declares that all animals which they eat must lose their lives by decapitation, and if possible at one stroke of the axe, whether it be beef, calf, sheep or goat.

On the dock at the end of the market were seen, in the season for them, small stacks of cabbages, the perquisites or overwork of the negro slaves from Hoboken, Paulus Hook and Communipaw. They were brought over in canoes, a sight which would now be a great curiosity. After selling their stock they would enjoy the jollification of a dance upon the market floor to the whistle of some favored one. They were very improvident, freely spending the proceeds of their hard labor, devoid of any care or solicitude, anxiety or forethought for the future, but perfectly contented and happy.

Between Robinson street, now Park place, and the next one, Murray, was this sign: "Francis Adonis, from Paris, Hair Dresser." As there was something peculiar in the life of this man I must relate it. His customers were mostly his own countrymen, French refugees, and they preferred having their tonsorial operations performed at their homes. Hence he was often seen upon the street, always bareheaded, carrying his hat doubled together, out of which protruded his combs, brushes, shears and strop. Upon the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, to