canvas bag, counted the money, in half dollars, shillings and sixpences, and then returned to the bank. Michael Boyle was an honest and faithful servant of the bank, obliging to the merchants, of a happy disposition, and had sufficient strength of body to bear the glistening coins entrusted to his care. The business limits of the city did not extend beyond Fulton street. Maiden Lane, Broadway and William street were the depots for traders. One of the relics of the olden time was Christ Church, the original locality of which was in Ann street. It was then sold to the Roman Catholics, and a new edifice was built in Anthony street, on the site of the old circus and theatre. The late Doctor Lyell, for many years pastor of Christ's Church, once preached as a Methodist in the open Park, at a time before the City Hall was erected, and also when the plot of ground was adorned with a wooden railing. He became soon after a clergyman of the Episcopal persuasion, and at the time of his death was the oldest divine of this city. He was a man of spotless character, universally respected by every old New Yorker. His earthly career was marked with meekness, charity and wisdom. A BOY'S REMINISCENCES. II. On the corner of Ann street and Broadway, directly opposite St. Paul's Church, was once located the famous Museum of P. T. Barnum-since destroyed by fire-containing his extensive collection of curiosities, including the club which killed Captain Cook, the miniature Niagara Falls, "with real water," the two seals, and the "Monarch of the Ocean." I visited the Museum a short time previous to its destruction. The whale was confined in a large circular tank about twenty feet in diameter filled with water, and seen through plate glass eight feet high. He must have been very young or must have belonged to a small species, for the oil from his entire carcase certainly would not have filled one hundred barrels, as some species are said to do. The City Hall is above the Museum. Building was begun in 1803 and not completed until 1813. The basement was finished the first year, and I well remember running around the walls and counting the various rooms and cells which the present structure covers. Just at the right was the Bridewell Prison, used for the same purpose as the Tombs of to-day, while on the left was the jail in which were confined condemned criminals, and insolvent debtors, who remained as long as the creditors would pay their board. These three buildings were situated at the head of a park, facing the South. This park, like the Battery, has been little frequented as a promenade since the Central Park became the fashionable promenade and drive. In the rear of the City Hall, on Chambers street, was the Alms House, where the poor, during the Winter, were supplied with soup in quantities according to the size of the family, the number in which being ascertained from the applicant. To the usual question, "How many?" one applicant made answer: "There's meself and me wife, two small childers and three boarthers." Perhaps it is needless to say that he went away with his pail upside down. Directly opposite the Almshouse were the Manhattan Water Works. The Astor property included the block enclosed by Broadway, Vesey, Church and Barclay streets, with the exception of St. Peter's Church, which is on the corner of Barclay and Church streets, and which probably gave the latter street its name in the early days of New York. St. Peter's is the oldest Catholic church in the city. It covers nearly the entire lot, there being but a small space outside the building, and that is occupied by some five or six graves, probably of some of their priests. The whole, of course, was consecrated ground, and John Jacob Astor with his millions was not rich enough to buy a foot of it. It was on Barclay street that my only sister lived, and there she died in December, 1828. "Two miles from the Battery," as a milestone then told us, was the stone bridge. The bridge was over the creek, before men tioned, which conveyed the surplus water from the Collect to the Hudson. What is now Canal street was then but a country road, unpaved. There were many sand hills, especially as we proceed northward, and even below the bridge a high hill had to be cut down in order to make a straight level road, and the houses, though few and far between, could seldom be erected until a site was prepared by the removal of some sand hills. Continuing Northward, there were no houses for quite a distance; on the left were the Lispenard meadows extending to Greenwich Road, and on the right the Collect. The Collect was a large stagnant pool nearly surrounded by high ground and hills. The water was not deep, but, nevertheless, in Winter made an excellent skating park. We would sometimes cut a hole in the ice and with our longest pole try to find the bottom of the soft black mud. The Merchants' Exchange, before its destruction by fire in 1835, was a large, beautiful building. Its front hall was adorned with a fine marble statue of Alexander Hamilton, procured by the voluntary contributions of the merchants of the city as a tribute to the man who had done so much for the commerce of the country, in effecting several advantageous treaties with foreign nations and the adoption of convenient decimal currency while he was Secretary of State. On Cedar street stood the old sugar house used by the British as a prison while they were in possession of the city. Here were confined not only military prisoners but private citizens, from New York, Newark and Brooklyn, who manifested any sympathy for the rebels, or who assisted them by word or act. I had the pleasure, some thirty years ago, of conversing with an old man of more than eighty years, who had been one of the innocent victims of British cruelty incarcerated in this prison. He remarked that he had "six months' sweetening" in the sugar house, but being young and healthy, had somehow survived; but many died from the confinement, impure air and prison fever, and were buried by their fellow prisoners, attended by a guard. These graves were, of necessity, rather shallow, as they had no implements for digging save their hands and what sticks they could pick up. Consequently the rains soon displaced the slight covering, exposing the bones. These were collected by the residents living near and carefully preserved in boxes and barrels, which finally accumulated in such numbers that the City Council, being notified, resolved to give them a public and honorable bur ial. They accordingly ordered a substantial brick vault constructed in the side of a hill in Brooklyn, near what is now the United States Navy Yard. When the vault was completed the barrels, boxes, and even hogsheads containing the bones were deposited therein, nearly filling it, though the vault was by no means small. The Council then appointed a day* when public obsequies should be observed throughont the city. When the day arrived New York produced the most numerous and dignified assemblage of citizens that I ever witnessed in the city. An ordinance was passed by the Council that all the stores and shops should be closed from 10 A. M. to 4 P. M., which was strictly observed. The procession consisted of the uniformed militia, artillery and infantry bearing their arms; the firemen in their uniforms; all the different societies with their badges and insignia; the Masons, with their jewels and aprons; the cartmen in their clean white frocks, and the whole followed by citizens and visitors. Following the officer of the day, who was on horseback, were thirteen hearses, drawn by fifty-two horses, all the best which the city afforded. In each hearse was a richly ornamented coffin, and on the lid of each coffin a large silver plate, on which was engraved the following epitaph: "Sacred to the Memory (I should have stated that many prisoners were confined in sev eral old unseaworthy hulks anchored in both rivers.) The pall bearers were the Mayor and Common Council; the mourners were the remaining officers and privates of the Revolutionary war. The procession moved to muffled music; the militia marched with arms reversed; the society emblems were *Wednesday, May 25th, 1807. These remains were not alone of those who died in the prisons, but of those also on the prison ships anchored in the East River. draped in mourning, and all wore crape upon the right arm. Among those habited in deep mourning was the venerable patriot and soldier, David Williams, the only one remaining of that famous trio who captured that young and unfortunate soldier, Major John Andre, the British spy, who was the victim of the treachery of the infamous Arnold. Mr. Williams was then an old man of about sixty years. His stature, his rotund form and his florid complexion plainly evinced his Dutch ancestry. With slow and solemn step to the music of the Portuguese Hymn and various funeral dirges and marches, the procession wended its way through the principal streets of the city. Upon passing Trinity Church the bands ceased playing and the chimes in the steeple pealed forth that most beautiful of dead marches-Roslyn Castle. As the day was drawing to a close they proceeded to the ferry at the foot of Maiden lane, where boats were in waiting to transport them to Brooklyn, where they soon arrived. They went directly to the vault; the coffins were placed side by side upon the ground, and after a brief recital of the sufferings and death of the brave men, the last honors were paid them by the militia discharging their guns over them in conformity with martial rules. The coffins were then placed in the vault, which was then closed for all time to come. In 1825 occurred another grand procession. It moved by water and also by land. I refer to what was the proudest day* in the life of DeWitt Clinton, when he united in wedlock the blue, briny waters of Old Ocean and the pure, sparkling waters of Lake Erie. The Erie Canal being finished, its projector and the dignitaries of the State resolved to have a celebration in honor of its completion by a double procession by sea and land for the purpose of commingling the salt and fresh waters. Early in the morning a discharge of cannon announced the departure of the miniature fleet from Buffalo with the excursionists. Cannon were placed along the canal and Hudson at intervals and fired as the boats passed, by which arrangement the people in New York were apprised of the approach of the fleet. In New York the day was ushered in with the usual military salute and the merry pealing of church bells. Flags were displayed from all public * On the 26th of October, 1825. |