University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

“At length we have arrived in this flourishing
city, not, however, without having experienced
many vicissitudes of weather, humour, and adventure,
the two latter especially; how could we help it,
when the Kentuckian formed so large a part of our
little crew, by steamboat and stage? His animal
spirits are worth a million.

“You cannot conceive any thing more agreeable
to an emancipated and sombre student, than to get
a comfortable high backed leather seat in one of
these fine northern coaches, his cloak collar put up
like a mask, and the rim of his cap drawn down
to meet it, just leaving a peeping-hole sufficient to
see and enjoy every thing worth enjoying, at
the same time defying the gaze of intruding eyes.

“If there should fortunately happen to be such
a reckless, yet generous spirit as Damon among
the company, the student's happiness is complete,
for you cannot imagine what a protector he is
against intruders. In our American stage-coaches
(and perhaps in all others) there are sometimes

men, full of brandy eloquence, which is kept so
constantly on the stretch by repeated libations; or
boisterous politicians, with their mouths so full of
the last importation of news from Washington, or
of the contents of the morning papers, that a complaisant
young man is almost compelled to make
himself ridiculous, by getting into a political controversy.

“Damon took all that sort of work off our hands,
in the most generous and chivalrous spirit imaginable.
His eye was ever bright and ready; there
was no sinking into dull student-like lethargy one
moment, and flashing out into erratic folly the
next; he was ready with lance in rest, to take a
tilt against anybody's windmill; at home upon
all subjects, being exactly in such a state of refinement
as not to be ashamed to show his ignorance,
and always eager to acquire information.
Nor is his mind dull or unapt; he will rebut or
ridicule an adversary with astonishing shrewdness.
One of his peculiarities amused me much; he was
evidently more excited in the stage-coaches than
in the boats. He was never satisfied until he had
let down the front glasses, so that he could see the
horses; then he would talk fluently to his near
neighbour, and keep his neck stretched all the
while, so as to have all the horses in view, throwing
out occasional digressive remarks as to their
various powers, as thus, `that's my little hearty,
make a straight back to it;' and then turning to

his antagonist he would continue his remarks, as
if nothing had drawn off his attention.

“But I must not take up all your time with our
comic adventures. When I get into that vein
more completely, you shall have his exploits in the
city. By-the-by, I suggested to Lamar that he
should take that part of the correspondence off my
hands, but he said, `Randolph knows I'm not one
of the writing sort, therefore you must write for
us both; action,' said he, with a mock heroic flourish,
`is my forte.'

“We are comfortably situated at the City Hotel
in Broadway. After we had selected our rooms,
I sallied out into that gay and brilliant promenade,
which intersects the city from north-east to
south-west. You may there see, on a fine sunshiny
afternoon, all the fashion and beauty of this
great city; the neat, tasteful, Parisian costume, in
close contrast with the more sober guise of London.
There you may hear intermingled the language of
the Gaul, the German, and the modern Roman. To
the right and left you see the spires of various
Christian temples; and smiling faces, and happy
hearts, will greet you at every step.

“To a secluded college novice like myself, there
is something new and moving in all this life and
bustle; it irresistibly brings to my mind ideas of
gay feats, tilts, tournaments, and brilliant fairs.
Within the finished bow-windows are wealth and
splendour, and brilliancy, which we poor southerns
have not seen in our own native land; marble

buildings, stores with granite columns, and the
streets crowded with immense omnibuses (these
are stages to transport persons from one part of
the city to another); splendid private equipages,
republican liveries, and carts loaded with merchandise.

“Seeing some trees and a comfortable green plat
a little farther up the street, I worked through the
crowd of persons, and carts, and stages, and found
myself in the midst of the far famed Park, and immediately
in front of that proud edifice the City Hall.
I ascended the marble platform, and surveyed the
gay throung, as they moved on in one continued and
dense current, with merry faces, miserable hearts,
and empty heads and pockets; but to talk of these
stale things, you know, in the present age, is all
stuff and sheer nonsense. I therefore put my reflections
in my portfolio to carry home with me,
and proceeded to the house-keeper's room, as I had
been directed, to obtain the good lady's pilotage,
or that of some deputy, to the governor's room,
which I readily found. There is nothing remarkable
in the two rooms which contain the paintings,
except that they command from the windows a
fine view of the park and the surrounding streets.
Yes, there are two venerable old stuffed chairs.
The one in the north wing was used by Washington
at his inauguration as first President of the
United States, and the one in the east room by
the elder Adams. There are portraits of George
Washington, George Clinton, Alexander Hamilton,

Commodore Bainbridge, Monroe, Jackson,
Duane, Varick, Livingston, Clinton, Willet, Radcliff,
Captain Hull, Governor Lewis, Macomb,
Yates, Van Buren, Brown, Perry, La Fayette,
Decatur, Tompkins, Colden, Allen, Paulding,
Hone, Stuyvesant, Bolivar, Columbus, Monkton,
Williams: some of these last are only half-length.
Over the portrait of Washington is a blue flag
rolled up, with the following inscription in golden
letters:—`This standard was displayed at the inauguration
of George Washington, first President
of the United States, on the 30th day of April, 1789.
And was presented to the Corporation of New-York
by the Second Regt. of N. Y. State Artillery,
Nov. 25th, 1821.'

“While I was standing at one of the front windows
again looking over the moving masses of
Broadway, I saw a lady approach on the eastern
footway of the Park, with a hurried step, until she
came nearly opposite to the Hall. Crossing Chatham,
she turned abruptly down one of the narrow
streets running at right angles to the eastern line
of the Park. There was something in the figure
and carriage of this lady which, unknown at first
to my consciousness, quickened my pulsations;
but when she approached to the nearest point in
her course, I felt morally certain that it was none
other than that mysterious charmer, who by her
father's connivance, or rather management, slipped
through my fingers at Baltimore, and that, too,
without my even having asked her address in this

city. The recollection of this latter circumstance
prompted me instantly to seize my hat and hurry
after her. Throwing the accustomed fee to my
obliging pilotess, I walked with all possible haste
to the corner of the street which I supposed she
had taken. I found that a little crowd of ragged
urchins had collected upon some occasion of their
own, and asked the most intelligent-looking among
them if he had seen a lady in black go down that
street,—pointing down the hill from Tammany
Hall; and, by way of reply, one of the most disgusting,
discordant, and ill-timed peals of laughter
that I ever heard burst upon my senses.

“`Lady in black!' said the most forward fellow,
`you will find plenty of black ladies down that
street, with black eyes to boot.' I retreated in
perfect disgust with these precocious vagabonds,
not, however, before I was saluted with another
peal of laughter, accompanied by the epithets—
`greenhorn,' `young 'un,' `bumpkin,' &c. &c.

“You cannot conceive of any more thoroughly
disgusting feeling than that produced upon the
mind of a young man bred up in the country, upon
this first exhibition of the detestable forms which
vice and dissipation assume in every large city,—
young females with bloated countenances,—boys
with black eyes and bruised faces, with their disgusting
slang and familiar nicknames, of Sal, Bet,
Kate, Tom, Josh, Jack, or Jim, and their unmeaning
oaths, Billingsgate wit, and filthy and ragged
garments. There are certain districts of the city
in which these are always to be seen, I am informed,—but

of these more anon. I turned down
the street, and pursued the course which I supposed
the lady had taken, until I got to the bottom of
what had once been a deep glen in its rural days.
I could see nothing but entrances to tanyards, and
warehouses full of leather and morocco. The
houses, too, looked at least a century and a half
behind those on the hill, in architectural taste.
Turning to a woman who was sweeping the little
narrow pavement in front of one of the houses, I
asked her what part of the city I was in.

“`This is called the swamp, sir,' was the reply.

“`This,' thought I to myself, `is a very different
affair from our swamps.' Just at that moment,
casting my eye along one of the narrow streets, I
caught a glimpse of the same figure, attended only
by her maid, entering a low, Dutch, dingy-looking
house, with the gable end to the street. I walked
as rapidly as I could in the same direction, and was
within some twenty yards of the house, when two
young men issued from the door, with the air and
dress of gentlemen. I did not immediately observe
their faces, because my mind was intently occupied
with the lady, and the probable cause of her visit
to such a strange part of the city. These reflections
were suddenly interrupted by some one slapping
me on the back, and exclaiming in my ear,
`Ha! my Chevillere! you here! how do you do?
what brought you here?' but I am resolved to
put your curiosity to a serious test; names in my
next. Yours, truly,