Talent, backed by experience and industry, will succeed in the long run in New York, but talent is not essential to success in the ministry here. We have often wondered what does make the success of some clergymen in this city. They have done well, and are popular, but they are not pulpit orators. In other cities a good pastor need not always be a good preacher. He may endear himself to his people in many different ways, so thathis other good qualities atone for his oratorical deficiencies. In New York, however, pastoral duties are almost entirely confined to the ministrations in the church, visitation of the sick, marriages, and attendance upon funerals. The city is so immense, the flock so widely scattered, that very few clergymen can visit all their people. The result is that pastoral visiting is but little practised here. The clergyman is generally “at home” to all who choose to call, on a certain evening in each week. A few civil, common-place words pass between the shepherd and the sheep, but that is all. The mass of the people of this city are neglected by the clergy. Possibly the fault is with the people. Indeed, it is highly probable, considering the carelessness which New Yorkers manifest on the subject of church going. During the summer months a large part of New York is left to do without the Gospel. Very many of the churches are closed. The ministers are, many of them, delicate men, and they cannot bear the strain of an unbroken year of preaching. So they shut up their churches during the warm season, go off to Long Branch, Saratoga, or the mountains, or cross the ocean. With the fall of the leaves, they come back to town by the score, and their churches are again opened “for preaching.” Don’t be deceived by their robust appearance. It is only temporary. By the approach of the next summer they will grow thin and weak-voiced again, and nothing will restore them but a season at some fashionable resort, or a run over the ocean.
A man of real talent will always, if he has a church conveniently and fashionably located, draw a large congregation to hear him; but the location and prestige of the church often do more than the minister, for some of our poorer churches have men of genius in their pulpits, while some of the wealthiest and most fashionable congregations are called on every Sunday to listen to the merest platitudes.
Let us not be misunderstood. There are able men in the New York pulpit—such men as Vinton, Hall, Chapin, Spring, Osgood, John Cotton Smith, Adams, and others—but we have some weak-headed brethren also.
A few clergymen grow rich in this city, the wealthy membersof their flock no doubt aiding them. Some marry fortunes. As a general rule, however, they have no chance of saving any money. Salaries are large here, but expenses are in proportion; and it requires a large income for a minister to live respectably. One in charge of a prosperous congregation cannot maintain his social position, or uphold the dignity of his parish, on less than from eight to ten thousand dollars per annum, if he has even a moderate family. Very little, if any, of this will go in extravagance. Many clergymen are obliged to live here on smaller salaries, but they do it “by the skin of their teeth.”
As a rule, the clergymen of New York are like those of other places. Whether weak-headed, or strong-minded, they are, as a class, honest, God-fearing, self-denying men. There are, however, some black sheep in the fold; but, let us thank Heaven, they are few, and all the more conspicuous for that reason.
The speculative mania (in financial, not theological matters) invades even the ranks of the clergy, and there are several well-known gentlemen of the cloth who operate boldly and skilfully in the stock markets through their brokers. One of these was once sharply rebuked by his broker for his unclerical conduct, and was advised, if he wished to carry on his speculations further, to go into the market himself, as the broker declined to be any longer the representative of a man who was ashamed of his business. There are others still who are not ashamed to mingle openly with the throng of curb-stone brokers, and carry on their operations behind the sanctity of their white cravats. These last, however, may be termed “Independents,” as they have no standing in their churches, and are roundly censured by them.
Others there are who, on small salaries, support large families. These are the heroes of the profession, but the world knows little of their heroism. With their slender means, they provide homes that are models for all. They do their duty bravely, and with an amount of self-denial which is sometimes amazing. They have happy homes, too, even if it is hard to make both ends meet at the end of the year. They are often men of tasteand culture, to whom such trials are particularly hard. They carry their culture into their homes, and the fruits of it blossom all around them. Wealth could not give them these pleasures, nor can poverty deprive them of them. They bring up their children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, and, thanks to the free schools and their own efforts, give them a good education. They send them out into the world well equipped for the battle of life, and reap the reward of their efforts in the honorable and useful lives of those children. They go down into the grave without knowing any of the comforts of wealth, without having ever preached to a fashionable congregation, and the world comes at last to find that their places cannot easily be filled. Let us be sure “their works do follow them.”
New York is a vast boarding-house. Let him who doubts this assertion turn to the columns of theHerald, and there read its confirmation in the long columns of advertisements of “Boarders wanted,” which adorn that sheet. Or, better still, let him insert an advertisement in the aforesaidHerald, applying for board, and he will find himself in receipt of a mail next morning that will tax the postman’s utmost capacity. The boarding-houses of New York are a feature, and not the pleasantest one, of the great city. How many there are, is not known, but in some localities they cover both sides of the street for several blocks. Those which are termed fashionable, and which imitate the expensiveness of the hotels without furnishing a tithe of their comforts, are located in the Fifth avenue, Broadway, and the Fourth avenue, or near those streets. Some are showily furnished as to the public rooms, and are conducted in seemingly elegant style, but the proprietress, for it is generally a woman who is at the head of these establishments, pays for all this show by economizing in the table and other things essential to comfort. The really “elegant establishments,” where magnificence of display is combined with a good table and substantial comfort in other respects, may be almost named in a breath.
Whether fashionable or unfashionable, all boarding-houses are alike. They are supremely uncomfortable. The boarder is never really satisfied, and lives in a state of perpetual warfare with his landlady. The landlady, on her part, takes care that her guests shall not be too comfortable. People generally become accustomed to this feverish mode of life; so accustomed to it indeed that they cannot exist without it. They find a sort of positivepleasure in boarding-house quarrels, and would not be able to exist without the excitement of them.
The majority of boarders in the city are persons who have not the means to live in their own houses. Others there are, who fancy they have less trouble in boarding than in keeping their own establishments. This is a singular but common delusion, and its victims endure with what patience they can the wretched fare, the constant changes, and the uninterrupted inconvenience and strife of a boarding-house, and imagine all the while that they are experiencing less trouble and annoyance than they would undergo in keeping house. The truth is, living is so expensive in New York, that all modes of life are troublesome to those who are not wealthy enough to disregard expense. But, here, as elsewhere, the privacy of one’s own home is better than the publicity of a boarding-house, and a fuss with Bridget in one’s own kitchen preferable to a row with a landlady, who may turn you out of doors at the very moment you are congratulating yourself that you are settled for the season. To persons with families, boarding-house life ought to be intolerable. Those who have children find that they cannot rear them as properly as they could within their own homes, that they cannot as surely shield them from unfavorable outside influences. Indeed, the troubles which these “encumbrances” cause are so great that the wife and mother comes to the conclusion that more children will simply add to her difficulties of this kind, and so she commences to “regulate” her family, and the little ones cease coming. Some boarding-houses will not receive children at any price. Year by year the number of such establishments is increasing. What will be the result? The question is not hard to answer.
The boarding-house is generally a cast-off mansion of gentility. There are a score of things about it to remind you that it was once a home, and to set you to speculating on the ways of the grim fate that has changed it into a place of torment. Whole volumes have been written on the subject, and all agree that is simply what I have described it to be. From the fashionable Fifth avenue establishment down to the cellarlodging-houses of the Five Points, all boarding-houses are alike in this respect. Their success in tormenting their victims depends upon the susceptibility and refinement of feeling and taste on the part of the latter.
Landladies and boarders are mutually suspicious of each other. The landlady constantly suspects her guest of a desire to escape from her clutches with unpaid bills. The latter is always on the look-out for some omission on the part of the hostess to comply with the letter of her contract. Landladies are frequently swindled by adventurers of both sexes, and guests most commonly find that the hostess does not comply very strictly with her bargain. Furthermore, the boarder has not only to endure his own troubles, but those of the landlady as well. Her sorrows are unending, and she pours them out to him at every opportunity. He dare not refuse to listen, for his experience teaches him that his hostess will find a way to punish him for his unfeeling conduct. It is of no use to change his quarters, for he may fare worse in this respect at the next place. And so he submits, and grows peevish and fretful, and even bald and gray over the woes of his tormentor. He consoles himself with one thought—in the next world landladies cease from troubling and boarding-houses do not exist.
All boarding-houses begin to fill up for the winter about the first of October. Few of the proprietors have any trouble in filling their establishments, as there is generally a rush of strangers to the city at that time. The majority of boarders change their quarters every fall, if they do not do so oftener. At first, the table is well supplied with good fare, the attendance is excellent, and the proprietress as obliging as one can wish. This continues until the house is full, and the guests have made arrangements which would render a removal inconvenient. Then a change comes over the establishment. The attendance becomes inferior. The landlady cannot afford to keep so many servants, and the best in the house are discharged. The fare becomes poor and scanty, and there begin to appear dishes upon which the landlady has exercised an amount of ingenuity which is astounding. They are fearfullyand wonderfully compounded, and it is best to ask no questions about them. The landlady keeps a keen watch over the table at such times; and woe to him who slights or turns up his nose at these dishes. She is sorry Mr. X---’s appetite is so delicate; but really her prices of board do not permit her to rival Delmonico or the Fifth Avenue Hotel in her table. Mr. P---, who was worth his millions, and who boarded with her for ten years, was very fond of that dish, and Mr. P--- was a regularbon vivant, if there ever was one. Hang your head, friend X---, mutter some incoherent excuse, gulp down your fair share of the dish in question--and fast the next time it makes its appearance at the table.
UNION SQUARE.
The landlady has shrewdly calculated the chances ofretaining her boarders. She knows that few care to or can change in the middle of the season, when all the other houses are full; and that they will hang on to her establishment until the spring. If they do not come back the next fall, others will, and as the population is large, she can play the same game upon a fresh set of victims for many years to come. It is of no use to complain. She knows human nature better than you do, and she adheres rigidly to her programme, grimly replying to your tale of woes, that, if you do not like her establishment, you can go elsewhere. You would go if you could find a better place; but you know they are all alike. So you make up your mind to endure your discomforts until May, with her smiling face, calls you into the country.
Boarding-houses allow their guests a brief respite in the summer. The city is then comparatively deserted, and the most of these “highly respectable” establishments are very much in want of inmates. Expenses are heavy and receipts light then, and the landladies offer an unusual degree of comfort to those who will help them to tide over this dull season.
As regards the ferreting out of impropriety on the part of her guests, the New York landlady is unequalled by the most skilful detective in the city. She doubts the character of every woman beneath her roof; but in spite of her acuteness she is often deceived, and it may be safely asserted that the boarding-houses into which improper characters do not sometimes find their way are very few. It is simply impossible to keep them out. The average boarding-house contains a goodly number of men who are so many objects of the designs of the adventurers. Again, if the adventuress wishes to maintain the guise of respectability, she must have a respectable home, and this the boarding-house affords her. One is struck with the great number of handsome young widows who are to be found in these establishments. Sometimes they do not assume the character of a widow, but claim to be the wives of men absent in the distant Territories, or in Europe, and pretend to receive letters and remittances from them. The majority of these women are adventuresses, and they make their living in a way they do notcare to have known. They conduct themselves with the utmost outward propriety in the house, and disarm even the suspicious landlady by their ladylike deportment. They are ripe for an intrigue with any man in the house, and as their object is simply to make money, they care little for an exposure if that object be attained.
New York is said to contain between five and six thousand restaurants. These are of every kind and description known to man, from Delmonico’s down to the Fulton Market stands. A very large number of persons live altogether at these places. They are those who cannot afford the expense of a hotel, and who will not endure a boarding-house. They rent rooms in convenient or inconvenient locations, and take their meals at the restaurants. At many nominally reputable establishments the fare is infamous, but as a rule New York is far ahead of any American city with respect to the character and capabilities of its eating-houses.
The better class restaurants lie along Broadway and Fifth avenue. The other longitudinal streets are well supplied with establishments of all kinds, and in the Bowery are to be found houses in which the fare is prepared and served entirely in accordance with German ideas. In other parts of the city are to be found Italian, French, and Spanish restaurants, and English chop houses.
The fashionable restaurants lie chiefly above Fourteenth, and entirely above Canal street. Delmonico’s, at the northeast corner of Fourteenth street and the Fifth avenue, is the best known. It is a very extensive establishment, is fitted up in elegant style, and is equal to any eating-house in the world. The prices are very high. A modest dinner, without wine, for two persons, will cost here from four to five dollars. The fare is good, however. The house enjoys a large custom, and every visitor to New York who can afford it, takes a meal here before leaving the city. Delmonico is said to be very rich.
A young man, to whom the ways of the house were unknown, once took his sweetheart to lunch at this famous place. His purse was light, and when he came to scan the bill of fare, and note the large sums affixed to each item, his heart sank within him, and he waited in silent agony to hear his fair companion make her selection. After due consideration, she ordered a woodcock. Now woodcocks are expensive luxuries at Delmonico’s, and the cost of one such bird represented more than the total contents of the lover’s purse. He was in despair, but a lucky thought occurred to him. Turning to the lady, he asked with an air of profound astonishment:
“Do you think you can eat a whole woodcock?”
“How large is it?” asked the fair one, timidly.
“About as large as a full grown turkey” was the grave reply.
“O, I’ll take an oyster stew,” said the lady, quickly.
The fashionable restaurants make large profits on their sales. Their customers are chiefly ladies, and men who have nothing to do. Their busiest hours are the early afternoon, and during the evening. After the theatres are closed, they are thronged with parties of ladies and gentlemen who come in for supper.
Some of the best restaurants in the city are those in which a lady is never seen. It must not be supposed that they are disreputable places. They are entirely the opposite. They are located in the lower part of the city, often in some by-street of the heavy business section, and are patronized chiefly by merchants and clerks, who come here to get lunch and dinner. The fare is excellent, and the prices are reasonable. The eating houses of Henry Bode, in Water street, near Wall street, Rudolph in Broadway, near Courtlandt street, and Nash & Fuller (late Crook, Fox & Nash), in Park Row, are the best of this kind. In the last there is a department for ladies.
Between the hours of noon and three o’clock, the down-town restaurants are generally crowded with a hungry throng. In some of them every seat at the long counters and at the tables is filled, and the floor is crowded with men standing and eating from plates which they hold in their hands. The noise, thebustle, the clatter of knives and dishes, the slamming of doors, and the cries of the waiters as they shout out the orders of the guests, are deafening. The waiters move about with a celerity that is astonishing; food is served and eaten with a dispatch peculiar to these places. A constant stream of men is pouring out of the doors, and as steady a stream flowing in to take their places. At some of the largest of these establishments as many as fifteen hundred people are supplied with food during the course of the day. A well patronized restaurant is very profitable in New York, even if its prices are moderate, and the higher priced establishments make their proprietors rich in a comparatively short time. The proprietor of a Broadway oyster saloon made a fortune of $150,000 by his legitimate business in five years. A large part of the income of the restaurants is derived from the sale of liquors at the bar.
The principal up-town restaurants are largely patronized by disreputable people. Impure women go there to pick up custom, and men to find such companions. Women whose social position is good, do not hesitate to meet their lovers at such places, for there is a great deal of truth in the old adage which tells us that “there’s no place so private as a crowded hall.” A quiet but close observer will frequently see a nod, or a smile, or a meaning glance pass between the most respectable looking persons of opposite sexes, who are seemingly strangers to each other, and will sometimes see a note slyly sent by a waiter, or dropped adroitly into the hand of the woman as the man passes out, while her face wears the demurest and most rigidly virtuous expression. Such women frequent some of the best known up-town establishments to so great an extent that a lady entering one of them is apt to be insulted in this way by the male habitués of the place. These wretches hold all women to be alike, and act upon this belief.
The Bowery and the eastern section of the city are full of cheap lodging-houses, which are a grade lower than the lowest hotels, and several grades above the cellars. One or two of these are immense establishments, five and six stories in height. Some of them provide their lodgers with beds and covering, others supply pallets laid down on the floor of a cheerless room, and others again give merely the pallets and no sheets or coverings. The rooms, the beds, and the bedding in all these establishments are horribly dirty, and are badly ventilated. Bed bugs abound in the summer, and in the winter the lodger is nearly frozen, the covering, when furnished, being utterly inadequate to the task of keeping out the cold. From six to ten persons are put in a room together. The price varies from ten to twenty-five cents, according to the accommodations furnished. Each of these houses is provided with a bar, at which the vilest liquors are sold at ten cents a drink. The profits of the business are very great, not counting the receipts of the bar, which are in proportion. The expense of fitting up and conducting such an establishment is trifling. One of them accommodates nearly two hundred lodgers per night, which at ten cents per head, would be a net receipt of twenty dollars.
The persons who patronize these establishments are mainly vagrants, men who live from hand to mouth, and who will not be received by the humblest boarding-house. Some are doubtless unfortunate, but the majority are vagrants from choice. Some have irregular occupations, others get the price of their lodgings by begging.
The business of a lodging-house seldom commences beforeten o’clock, and its greatest rush is just after the closing of the theatres; but all through the night, till three o’clock in the morning, they are receiving such of the outcast population as can offer the price of a bed. To any one interested in the misery of the city, the array presented on such an occasion is very striking. One sees every variety of character, runaway boys, truant apprentices, drunken mechanics, and broken-down mankind generally. Among these are men who have seen better days. They are decayed gentlemen who appear regularly in Wall street, and eke out the day by such petty business as they may get hold of; and are lucky if they can make enough to carry them through the night. In all lodging-houses the rule holds good, “First come, first served,” and the last man in the room gets the worst spot. Each one sleeps with his clothes on, and his hat under his head, to keep it from being stolen. At eight o’clock in the morning all oversleepers are awakened, and the rooms got ready for the coming night. No one is allowed to take anything away, and if the lodger has a parcel, he is required to leave it at the bar. This prevents the theft of bedclothes.
The Libraries of New York are large and well patronized. The various collections, including those of the institutions of learning, number over 500,000 volumes.
The oldest collection is the “Society Library,” which is contained in a handsome brick edifice in University Place. In 1729, the Rev. John Wellington, Rector of Newington, in England, generously bequeathed his library, consisting of 1622 volumes, to the “Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts.” To this was added a collection of books presented by the Rev. John Sharp, Chaplain to Lord Bellamont. The whole collection was sent to New York, and opened for public use in 1731, under the name of the “Corporation Library.” The death of the librarian occurred soon after, and the library was suffered to fall into disuse. In 1754, a number of citizens of means and literary taste, founded the “Society Library,” to which, with the consent of the city, they added the old “Corporation Library.” In 1772, the Society received a charter from King George III. It is one of the wealthiest and most flourishing institutions in the city. The annual subscription is $10. The collection of books is very valuable and interesting, and comprises over 50,000 volumes.
The “Astor Library” is the best known outside of the city. The library building is a massive structure of brick with brown stone trimmings, situated in Lafayette Place, next door to the residence of William B. Astor, Esq. It was founded by John Jacob Astor, and enlarged by his son William. The books are contained in two large and elegant halls, occupying the entire building above the first floor. The collection numbers about150,000 volumes, and was made by the late Dr. Coggeswell, the first Librarian, whose judgment, taste, and learning were highly appreciated by the elder Astor. The library is mainly one of reference, and is very complete in most of the subjects it comprises. In the departments of science, history, biography, and philology, it is especially fine. It also contains many rare and valuable illustrated works, a number of original editions of the earliest books, and some valuable manuscripts.
LAFAYETTE PLACE.
The collection is free to the public, and is open daily except on Sundays and holidays, and during the month of August, from 10 A.M. until 4 P.M. The books cannot be taken from the reading-room, nor are visitors allowed to use pen and ink in making notes from them. It is said that the classes Mr. Astor desired mostto benefit by this library were the working people, who are unable to buy books of their own. If this be true, his wishes have been entirely defeated, as the hall is open only during the hours when it is impossible for working people to attend. In the facilities which it affords to those who wish to use it, the Astor is very much behind the great libraries of Europe, or even the Public Library of Boston.
The most popular, and the most thoroughly representative library of the city, is the Mercantile Library, located in Clinton Hall, in Astor Place. It owns this building, and its property is valued at $500,000. It was founded in 1820, by William Wood, a native of Boston, and a gentleman eminent for his efforts in behalf of the spread of education and liberal ideas. It began as a subscription library with a collection of 700 volumes, and was located in a small room at No. 49 Fulton street. The collection now numbers 120,000 volumes, and increases at the rate of 13,000 volumes a year. It is the fourth library in size in the Union. Those which are larger are the Library of Congress, the Public Library of Boston, and the Astor Library. The library is the property of the clerks of New York, and though it does not compare with the Astor in the solidity or value of its contents, is a creditable monument to the good sense and taste of the young men of our mercantile community. No one but a clerk can hold an office in it. The term “clerk” is made to include all men who live on a salary. These members pay an initiation fee of $1, and an annual subscription of $4. To all other persons the privileges of the library are offered at an annual subscription of $5. In April, 1870, the books of the institution showed a roll of 12,867 persons entitled to the use of the library and reading-room, the latter of which contains 400 newspapers and periodicals.
A large part of the collection consists of works of fiction. It is a lending library, and its books are sent to readers in Yonkers, Norwalk, Stamford, Elizabeth, and Jersey City, as well as in New York, in each of which it has branches. There are also branch offices in Yorkville and in Cedar street. Every morning a canvass bag, containing the books returned andapplications for others wanted, is sent from each branch to the library, and is returned in the afternoon full. The directors offer to establish a branch in any of the suburban towns in which one hundred subscribers can be obtained in advance. The average daily delivery of books is 760, of which about three-quarters are taken from the library proper, the rest from the branches. On Saturday evening the demand for books is very great.
The system of delivery is as follows:
“Each member on joining the library has a folio assigned him in the ledger, and its number is written on the ticket which is given him as a certificate of membership. Let us suppose you have received one of these tickets, and have made your selection of the book you want. You fill up a blank application card, with the name of the book desired. You hand that to one of the attendants. When he has found a book for you, he hands it, with your application card, to the delivery clerk. This gentleman occupies a large desk at the central counter, and has before him two immense drawers, divided into partitions for the reception of the cards. Each member’s name has a place in one or the other of these drawers, and the number of the folio shows where that place is. The clerk instantly turns to your name, and finds the card you handed in when you last borrowed a book. If the date, stamped at the time of delivery, shows that you have kept it longer than the rules allow, he levies a small fine, and you must pay it before you can borrow again. All formalities transacted, the old card is destroyed, the new one put in its place, and you are sent away in peace.
“The system of checking books, as we have described it, enables the librarian to ascertain in a moment just what any particular member has borrowed; but it does not show what has become of any particular book. Many attempts have been made to devise a system of double accounts, so that a check could be kept upon the members and the books at the same time, but without success. A partial record book, however, is now kept. Whenever a standard book is borrowed, the delivery clerk marks upon a little yellow ticket simply the folio numberof the borrower. Every day the yellow tickets are examined, and if it appear, say, that folio 10,029 has had a book more than three weeks, the clerk turns to the drawer and finds out who folio 10,029 is, and what book is charged against him, and sends him a notice that his time is up. It is found impracticable to apply this system to novels, which form the greater part of the circulation of the library; but it is useful as far as it goes, and prevents the loss of many valuable books.
CLINTON HALL.
“Of late years a postal order scheme has been perfected, and for convenience and simplicity it could hardly be improved. Its design is to enable members to draw books without visiting the library. Blank forms are obtained from the Post-office Department, about the size and shape of a newspaper wrapper, bearing on one side a two-cent postage stamp, and the printed address, ‘Mercantile Library, Astor Place, City,’ and on the other a blank application, with a five-cent ‘Mercantile Library delivery stamp,’ and some printed directions. You fill up the application in the usual way, fold the wrapper like a note (it is already gummed), and drop it in the nearest Post-office box. In a few hours at furthest a messenger brings to your house the book youhave asked for, and takes away the volume you want to return. The system is fast increasing in popularity. A horse and wagon are constantly employed in the collection and delivery, and the number of volumes sent out in this way is about 12,000 annually. The delivery blanks are sold at the rate of seven cents each—two cents representing the postage and five the cost of the delivery.”
The other collections are the Library of the New York Historical Society, embracing over 30,000 volumes, besides many interesting manuscripts, papers, coins and antiquities; the Apprentices’ Library, 18,000 volumes; the Library of the American Institute, 10,000 volumes; the City Library, 5000 volumes; the Law Institute Library, about 5000 volumes; the Library of the Young Men’s Christian Association, about 15,000 volumes; the Library of the Protestant Episcopal General Theological Seminary, 18,000 volumes; the Library of the Union Theological Seminary, 26,000 volumes; the Library of the Cooper Institute; and the libraries of the various institutions of learning.
Mr. James Lenox, a wealthy and prominent citizen, is now erecting on the Fifth avenue, near Seventieth street, and immediately opposite the Central Park, a massive building of granite, which is to be one of the most imposing structures in the City. In this, at its completion, he intends placing his magnificent collection of books and works of art, which constitute the most superb private collection in America. The whole will be opened to the public under certain restrictions.
New York is full of professional men, that is, of men who earn their living by brain work. One class—the clergy—has already been mentioned.
The Bar is next in numbers. There are about three thousand lawyers practising at the New York bar. A few of these have large incomes, two or three making as much as fifty thousand dollars per annum; but the average income of the majority is limited. An income of ten or fifteen thousand dollars is considered large in the profession, and the number of those earning such a sum is small.
In most cities the members of the legal profession form a clique, and are very clannish. Each one knows everybody else, and if one member of the bar is assailed, the rest are prompt to defend him. In New York, however, there is no such thing as a legal “fraternity.” Each man is wrapped in his own affairs, and knows little and cares less about other members of the profession. We have been surprised to find how little these men know about each other. Some have never even heard of others who are really prosperous and talented.
The courts of the city are very numerous; and each man, in entering upon his practice, makes a specialty of some one or more of them, and confines himself to them. His chances of success are better for doing this, than they would be by adopting a general practice. Indeed, it would be simply impossible for one man to practise in all.
Many of the best lawyers rarely go into the courts. They prefer chamber practice, and will not try a case in court if they can help it. The process in the courts is slow and vexatious,and consumes too much of their time. Their chamber practice is profitable to them, and beneficial to the community, as it prevents much tedious litigation.
Many lawyers with fair prospects and comfortable incomes, who are succeeding in their profession in other places, come to New York, expecting to rise to fame and fortune more rapidly here. They are mistaken. The most accomplished city barrister finds success a slow and uncertain thing. It requires some unusually fortunate circumstance to introduce a new lawyer favorably to a New York public.
The profession in this city can boast some of the most eminent names in the legal world, such men as Charles O’Connor, William M. Evarts, and others of a similar reputation.
The Medical Profession is also well represented. It is said that there are about as many physicians and surgeons as lawyers practising in the city. New York offers a fine field for a man of genuine skill. Its hospitals and medical establishments are the best conducted of any in the country, and afford ample opportunity for study and observation. The opportunity for studying human nature is all that one can desire. The most eminent medical men in the country either reside here or are constantly visiting the city.
Some of the city practitioners are very fortunate in a pecuniary sense. It is said that some of them receive very large sums every year. Dr. Willard Parker was once called out of town to see a patient, to whom he sent a bill of $300. The amount was objected to, and Dr. Parker proved by his books that his daily receipts were over that sum. He is said to be an exception to the general rule, however, which rule is that but very few of the best paid medical men receive over $20,000 per annum. Surgeons are paid much better than physicians. Dr. Carnochan is said to have received as much as $2000 for a single operation. As a rule, however, the city physicians do little more than pay expenses, especially if they have families. From $5000 to $10,000 is a good income, and a man of family has but little chance of saving out of this if he lives in any degree of comfort.
Literary men and women are even more numerous in the metropolis than lawyers or doctors. They are of all classes, from the great author of world-wide fame to the veriest scribbler. The supply is very largely in advance of the demand, and as a consequence, all have to exert themselves to get along. A writer in theWorldestimates the annual receipts of New York authors at about one million of dollars, and the number of writers at 2000, which would give an average income to each of about $500. As a matter of course, it is impossible to make any reliable estimate, and there can be little doubt that the writer referred to has been too generous in his average. Authorship in New York offers few inducements of a pecuniary nature. Men of undoubted genius often narrowly escape starvation, and to make a bare living by the pen requires, in the majority of instances, an amount of mental and manual labor and application which in any mercantile pursuit would ensure a fortune.
The criminal class of New York is very large, but it is not so large as is commonly supposed. In the spring of 1871, the Rev. Dr. Bellows stated that the City of New York contained 30,000 professional thieves, 20,000 lewd women and harlots, 3000 rum shops, and 2000 gambling houses, and this statement was accepted without question by a large portion of the newspapers of other parts of the country. New York is a very wicked place, but it is not as bad as the above statement would indicate. The personal character of the gentleman who made it compels the conviction that he believed in the truth of his figures; but a closer examination of the case makes it plain that he was singularly deceived by the sources from which he derived his information.
It is very hard to obtain accurate information as to the criminal statistics of this city. The reports and estimates of the Police Commissioners are notoriously incomplete and unreliable. They show a large number of arrests, but they deal mainly with the class known as “casuals,” persons who merely dabble in crime, and who do not make it a profession, and the larger proportion of the arrests reported are for such trifling offences as drunkenness. Indeed many of the arrests reported ought not to be counted in the records of crime at all, as the persons apprehended are released upon the instant by the officer in charge of the station, the arrests being the result of the ignorant zealor malice of the patrolmen, and the prisoners being guiltless of any offence.
The population of New York is unlike that of any other American city. It is made up of every nationality known to man. The majority of the people are very poor. Life with them is one long unbroken struggle, and to exist at all is simply to be wretched. They are packed together at a fearful rate in dirt and wretchedness, and they have every incentive to commit crimes which will bring them the means of supplying their wants. It is a common habit of some European governments to ship their criminals to this port, where they have a new field opened to them. The political system of the city teaches the lower class to disregard all rights, either of property or person, and, indeed, clothes some of the most infamous criminals with an amount of influence which is more than dangerous in their hands, and shields them from punishment when detected in the commission of crime. All these things considered, the wonder is not that the criminal class of the city is as large as it is; but that it is not larger and more dangerous.
The truth is, that the class generally known as Professional Criminals number about 3000. Besides these, there are about 5000 women of ill-fame, known as such, living in 600 houses of prostitution, and frequenting assignation and bed-houses, about 7000 rum shops, 92 faro banks, and about 500 other gambling houses, and lottery and policy offices, within the limits of the City of New York.
The professional criminals are those who live by thieving, and who occasionally vary their career by the commission of a murder or some other desperate crime. They rarely resort to violence, however, unless it becomes necessary to ensure their own safety. Then they make their work as simple and as brief as possible. They form a distinct community, frequent certain parts of the city, where they can easily and rapidly communicate with each other, and where they can also hide from the police without fear of detection. They have signs by which they may recognize each other, and a language, orargot, peculiar to themselves. Those who have been raised to thebusiness use this argot to such an extent that to one not accustomed to it they speak in an unknown tongue. The following specimens, taken from the “Detective’s Manual,” under the head of the letter B, will illustrate this:
Badger.—A panel-thief.
Bagged.—Imprisoned.
Bag of nails.—All in confusion.
Balram—Money.
Bandog.—A civil officer.
Barking irons.—Pistols.
Bene.—Good, first-rate.
Benjamin.—A coat.
Bilk.—To cheat.
Bill of sale.—A widow’s weeds.
Bingo.—Liquor.
Bingo boy.—A drunken man.
Bingo mort.—A drunken woman.
Blue-billy.—A strange handkerchief.
Blue ruin.—Bad gin.
Boarding-school.—The penitentiary.
Bone box.—The mouth.
Bowsprit in parenthesis.—A pulled nose.
Brother of the blade.—A soldier.
Brother of the bolus.—A doctor.
Brush.—To flatter, to humbug.
Bug.—A breast-pin.
Bugger.—A pickpocket.
Bull.—A locomotive.
Bull-traps.—Rogues who personate officials to extort money.
As a rule, the professional thief of every grade is a very respectable looking individual outwardly. He dresses well, but flashily, and is generally plentifully supplied with money. In a “crib,” or rendezvous, which he once visited in company with a detective, the writer could not select a single individual whose outward appearance indicated his calling. The New York thief generally has money, which he squanders with great recklessness. It comes to him easily, and it goes in the same way. There are many instances on record which go to show that the “members of the profession” are frequently most generous to each other in money matters. The thief is usually a man ofsteady habits. He rarely drinks to excess, for that would unfit him for his work, and he is not usually given to licentiousness, for a similar reason. If he be found living with a woman, she is generally a thief also, and plies her trade with equal activity.
THE OCCASIONAL FATE OF NEW YORK THIEVES.
Altogether, there are about three thousand thieves of various kinds, known to the officers of justice in New York, who live by the practice of their trade. They are divided into various classes, each known by a distinctive title, and to each of which its respective members cling tenaciously. These are known as Burglars, Bank Sneaks, Damper Sneaks, Safe-blowers, Safe-bursters, Safe-breakers, and Sneak Thieves. The last constitute the most numerous class.
The Burglar is the aristocrat of crime, and you cannot offendhim more than by calling him a thief. He scorns the small game of the sneak thief, and conducts his operations on a large scale, in which the risk is very great, and the plunder in proportion. His peculiar “racket” is to break open some first-class business house, a bonded warehouse, or the vaults of a bank. The burglar class has three divisions, known to the police as Safe-blowers, Safe-bursters, and Safe-breakers. They are said to be less than 250 in number, those of the first and second class comprising about seventy-five members each. The safe-blowers are accounted the most skilful. They rarely force an entrance into a building, but admit themselves by means of false keys made from wax impressions of the genuine keys. Once inside, their mode of operation is rapid and systematic. They lower the windows from the top about an inch. This is usually sufficient to prevent the breaking of the glass by the concussion of the air in the room, and not enough to attract attention from without. The safe is then wrapped in wet blankets, to smother the noise of the explosion. Holes are then drilled in the door of the safe near the lock, these are filled with powder, which is fired by a fuse, and the safe is blown open. The securing of the contents requires but a few minutes, and the false keys enable the thieves to escape with ease. This method of robbery is very dangerous, as, in spite of the precautions taken, the explosion may produce sufficient noise to bring the watchman or the police to the spot. Experienced burglars only engage in it, and these never undertake it without being sure that the plunder to be secured will fully repay them for the danger to be encountered. This knowledge they acquire in various ways.
The Safe-bursters are the silent workers of the “profession.” Like the class just mentioned, they enter buildings by means of false keys. They adopt a thoroughly systematic course, which requires the combined efforts of several persons, and consequently they operate in parties of three and four. They first make the safe so fast to the floor, by means of clamps, that it will resist any degree of pressure. Then they drill holes in the door, and into these fit jack-screws worked by means of levers.The tremendous force thus exerted soon cuts the safe literally to pieces, and its contents are at the mercy of the thieves. The whole process is noiseless and rapid, and so complete has been the destruction of some safes that even the most experienced detectives have been astounded at the sight of the wreck. Such an operation is never undertaken without a knowledge on the part of the thieves of the contents of the safe, and the chances of conducting the enterprise in safety. The Safe-blowers and bursters do nothing by chance, and their plans are so well arranged beforehand that they rarely fail.
The Safe-breakers, though really a part of the burglar class, are looked upon with contempt and disowned by their more scientific associates in crime. They do nothing by calculation, and trust everything to chance. They enter buildings by force, and trust to the same method to get into the safes. Their favorite instrument is a “jimmy,” or short iron bar with a sharp end. With this they pry open the safe, and then knock it to pieces with a hammer. In order to deaden the sound of the blows, the hammer is wrapped with cloth. They are not as successful as the others in their operations, and are most frequently arrested. Indeed the arrests for burglary reported by the Police Commissioners occur almost exclusively in this class. A really first-class burglar in a prison cell would be a curiosity in New York.
Closely allied with the Safe-blowers and bursters is a class known as Bed-chamber Sneaks. These men are employed by the burglars to enter dwellings and obtain impressions in wax of keys of the places to be robbed. They adopt an infinite number of ways of effecting such an entrance, often operating through the servant girls. They never disturb or carry off anything, but confine their efforts to obtaining impressions in wax of the keys of the store or office to be robbed. The keys of business houses are mainly kept by the porters, into whose humble dwellings it is easy to enter. When they wish to obtain the keys of a dwelling, they come as visitors to the servant girls, and while they stand chatting with them manage to slip the key from the lock, take its impression in wax, and return itto the lock, unobserved by the girl. They are generally on the watch for chances for robberies, and report them promptly to their burglar confederates.
The Bank Sneak is better known as the Bond Robber. He is of necessity a man of intelligence and of great fertility of resource. He steals United States Bonds almost entirely, and prefers coupons to registered, as the former can always be disposed of without detection. He manages, by means best known to himself, to gain information of the places in which these bonds are kept by the banks, of the times at which it is easiest to gain access to them, and the hours at which the theft is most likely to be successful. All this requires an immense amount of patient study and of personal observation of the premises, which must be conducted in such a way as not to attract attention or excite suspicion. When everything is ready for the commission of the deed, the thief proceeds to the place where the bonds are kept, seizes them and makes off. If a package of bank notes is at hand, he adds that to his other plunder. Usually his operations are so well planned and conducted that he is not observed by the bank officers, and he escapes with his plunder. Once at large, he proceeds to sell the bonds, if they are coupons, or to use the bank notes, if he has secured any. Registered bonds require more care in their disposition. Generally the bank offers a reward for the arrest of the robber and the recovery of the goods, and calls in a detective to work up the case. The thief at once manages to communicate with the detective, and offers to compromise with the bank, that is, to restore a part of the plunder upon condition that he is allowed the rest and escape punishment. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred his offer is accepted, the bank preferring the recovery of a part of its loss to the punishment of the thief. In this way the thief secures a large part of the amount stolen, sometimes one-half. Should the thief be caught with his plunder upon him, and the bank be thus saved from loss, which is rare, the offender is turned over to the police, and the bank joins heartily in the effort to send him to the penitentiary.
The Damper Sneak confines his attentions to the safes of thebusiness men of the city. Wall street has suffered heavily from this class. The thief enters a broker’s office, in which the safe is generally left open during business hours, and asks permission to look at the directory, or to write a note. If this permission be accorded him, he manages to get inside the railing, in close proximity to the safe, if its doors are open. A confederate (or sometimes more) now enters and attracts the attention of the broker or the clerk, by making fictitious arrangements for the purchase of gold or some security. The thief who first entered watches his opportunity, and then, with the greatest rapidity, darts to the safe, abstracts whatever he can lay his bands on, and passes out, always thanking the broker for his courtesy. The confederates leave soon after, and then the robbery is discovered. The Damper Sneak has to steal at random, taking the first thing within his reach, but he often secures a rich prize. He takes his peculiar name from the safe, which, in the thief language, is called a “Damper.” One of the boldest of these robberies occurred a year or more ago, in Wall street. A broker employing a number of clerks, and doing a heavy business, was standing one day in front of his safe, during business hours, talking to a gentleman. A man, without a hat, with a pen behind his ear, and a piece of paper in his hand, entered the office, passed around the counter to where the broker stood, and said to him quietly, “Will you please to move, sir, so that I can get at the safe?” Being very much interested in his conversation, the broker scarcely noticed the man, supposing from his general appearance and manner that he was one of the clerks, and accordingly stepped aside without giving him a second glance. The man went up to the safe, took out a package of United States Bonds, and coolly walked out of the office. The bonds amounted to one hundred thousand dollars. The loss was discovered in the afternoon but no trace of the thief or of his plunder was ever found. Strange as it may seem, the city is constantly suffering from similar robberies, and the rogues almost invariably escape.
The Sneak Thieves are the last and lowest on the list. As has been stated, they constitute the bulk of the light-fingeredfraternity. These confine their attentions principally to private dwellings, are adroit and successful, but incur constant danger of detection and punishment. A sneak thief will pass along the street with that rapid, rolling glance of the eyes which distinguishes the tribe; now he checks himself in his career; it is but for an instant; no unprofessional eye directed towards him would notice it; but the sudden pause would speak volumes to an experienced police officer. He knows that the thief’s eye has caught the sight of silver lying exposed in the basement. In an hour after he hears that the basement has been entered, and the silver in it carried off. He knows who has taken it, as well as if he had seen the man take it with his own eyes; but if the thief has had time to run to the nearest receiver’s den, the silver is already in the melting-pot, beyond the reach of identification.
Sometimes the sneak thieves work in pairs. Upon discovering the basement door of a residence ajar, one of them takes position at it, while the other ascends the front steps and rings the bell. As soon as the servant has gone up from the basement to answer the bell, the thief at the lower door slips in, and gathers up the silver or such other articles as he can lay his hands upon. Again, selecting the dinner hour, which is usually between six and seven o’clock, and operating in the winter season when the streets are dark at that hour, one of the thieves will remain on the side-walk, on the lookout for the police, while the other climbs up a pillar of the stoop and reaches the level of the second story window. The window fastenings offer but a feeble resistance, and he is soon in the room. The family being all at dinner in the lower part of the house, the entire mansion is open to him. Securing his plunder, he leaves the house as he entered it, and makes off with his confederate. Some of the wealthiest mansions in the city have been robbed in this way, and heavy losses in jewelry, furs, and clothing have been entailed upon householders in all localities. Sometimes the thief has a confederate in the servant girl, but professionals do not often trust this class, who are always ready to betray them at the slightest indication of danger.
The activity of the pick-pockets of New York is very great, and they oftentimes make large “hauls” in the practice of their trade. It is said that there are about 300 of them in the city, though the detectives state their belief that the number is really larger and increasing. Scarcely a day passes without the police authorities receiving numerous complaints from respectable persons of losses by pick-pockets.
On all the street cars, you will see the sign, “Beware of Pick-pockets!” posted conspicuously, for the purpose of warning passengers. These wretches work in gangs of two, or three or four. They make their way into crowded cars, and rarely leave them without bringing away something of value. An officer will recognize them at once. He sees a well-known pickpocket obstructing the car entrance; another pickpocket is abusing him in the sharpest terms for doing so, while, at the same time, he is eagerly assisting a respectable gentleman, or a well-dressed lady, to pass the obstruction. One or two other pick-pockets stand near. All this is as intelligible to a police officer as the letters on a street sign. He knows that the man, who is assisting the gentleman or lady, is picking his or her pocket; he knows that the man who obstructs the entrance is his confederate; he knows that the others, who are hanging about, will receive the contents of the pocket-book as soon as their principal has abstracted the same. He cannot arrest them, however, unless he, or some one else, sees the act committed; but they will not remain long after they see him—they will take the alarm, as they know his eye is on them, and leave the car as soon as possible.
A lady, riding in an omnibus, discovers that she has lost her purse, which she knows was in her possession when she entered the stage. A well-dressed gentleman sits by her, whose arms are quietly crossed before him, and his fingers, encased in spotless kid gloves, are entwined in his lap, in plain sight of all thepassengers, who are sure that he has not moved them since he entered the stage. Several persons have entered and left the vehicle, and the lady, naturally supposing one of them to be the thief, gets out to consult a policeman as to her best course. The officer could tell her, after a glance at the faultless gentleman who was her neighbor, that the arms so conspicuously crossed in his lap, are false, his real arms all the time being free to operate under the folds of his talma. The officer would rightly point him out as the thief.
The ferry-boats which go and come crowded with passengers, the theatres, and even the churches, are all frequented by pickpockets, who reap rich harvests from them. Persons wearing prominent shirt pins or other articles of jewelry frequently lose them in this way, and these wretches will often boldly take a purse out of a lady’s hand or a bracelet from her arm, and make off. If the robbery be done in the midst of a crowd, the chance of escape is all the better.
The street car conductors complain that they can do nothing to check the depredations of the pick-pockets. If they are put off the cars, they exert themselves to have the conductors discharged, and are generally possessed of influence enough to accomplish their ends. Strange as this may seem, it is true, for the pick-pocket is generally employed by the city politicians to manage the rougher class at the elections. In return for the influence which they thus exert the pick-pockets receive payment in money, and are shielded from punishment if unlucky enough to be arrested. Both parties are responsible for this infamous course, the party in power usually making the greatest use of these scoundrels. This is the cause of the confidence with which thieves of this kind carry on their trade. Those who desire the city’s welfare will find food for reflection in this fact.
Many of the pick-pockets are women, whose lightness and delicacy of touch make them dangerous operators. Others are boys. These are usually termed “kids,” and are very dangerous, as people are not inclined to suspect them. They work in gangs of three or four, and, pushing against their victim, seize what they can, and make off. Sometimes one of this gangis arrested, but as he has transferred the plunder to his confederates, who have escaped, there is no evidence against him.
In the collection of photographs at the Police Headquarters, to which the authorities have given the name of “The Rogues’ Gallery,” there are but seventy-three portraits of females. The best informed detectives, however, estimate the actual number of professional female thieves in the city at about 350.
Women do not often succeed in effecting large robberies, but the total of their stealings makes up a large sum each year. They are not as liable to suspicion as men, and most persons hesitate before accusing a woman of theft. Yet, if successful, the woman’s chances of escaping arrest and punishment are better than those of a man. Her sex compels her to lead a quieter and more retired life, and she does not as a rule frequent places in which she is brought under a detective’s observation.
Some of the female thieves are the children of thief parents, and are trained to their lives, others come to such a mode of existence by degrees. All, as a rule, are loose women, and were so before they became professional thieves. A few of them are well educated, and some of these state that they adopted thieving only when all other means failed them, and that they hoped it would keep them from sacrificing their virtue. This hope proved vain, and imperceptibly they glided into the latter sin. Some of these women live in handsomely furnished private rooms in such localities as Bleecker street. Others herd together in the lower quarters of the city. The female thief, even the most abandoned, generally has a husband, who is himself a thief or something worse. She takes great pride in being a married woman, and whenever she gets into trouble invariably seeks to establish a good character by producing her marriage certificate. Even the lowest panel thieves will do this.
The Female Thieves are divided into Pick-pockets, Shoplifters, and Panel Thieves.
“A short while ago a private detective happened to drop into a large dry-goods store in Grand street, and observed a handsome-looking girl, about eighteen years old, dressed with the best taste, pricing laces at a counter. An indefinable expression about her eyes was suspicious, and as she left the store without purchasing, the spectator followed her to the corner of Essex Market, where, walking beside her, he noticed something of a square form under her cloak. At once suspecting it to be a stolen card of lace, he jostled against her, and, as he suspected, the card of lace fell from under her arm to the sidewalk. She colored, and was walking away without picking it up when the detective stopped her, said he knew the lace was stolen, and that she must return to the shop. She begged of him not to arrest her but restore the lace, which he did. After thanking him for not taking her into custody, she invited him to call on her and learn the story of her life. She has two rooms in a very respectable locality, furnished in the best manner, several of Prang’s chromos are hung on the walls, and a piano, on which she plays well, is in her sitting-room. She is very well educated, and was driven into her way of life by being left without friends or help, and one day stole a shawl without being discovered. Emboldened by the success of her first theft, she chose shop-lifting as her way of life, has followed it ever since, and was never in prison. Some few call her Sarah Wright; but those who know her best style her ‘Anonyma,’ as she dislikes the former title.”
The Harbor Thieves constitute one of the most dangerous and active portions of the criminal class. There are only about fifty professional thieves of this class, but they give the police a vast amount of trouble, and inflict great loss in the aggregateupon the mercantile community. Twenty years ago the harbor was infested with a gang of pirates, who not only committed the most daring robberies, but also added nightly murders to their misdeeds. Their victims were thrown into the deep waters of the river or bay, and all trace of the foul work was removed. At length, however, the leaders of the gang, Saul and Howlett by name, mere lads both, were arrested, convicted, and executed, and for a while a stop was put to the robberies in the harbor; but in course of time the infamous trade was resumed, but without its old accompaniment of murder. It is at present carried on with great activity in spite of the efforts of the police to put a stop to it. The North River front of the city is troubled with but one gang of these ruffian’s, which has its headquarters at the foot of Charlton street. This front is lined with piers which are well built, well lighted, and well guarded, being occupied chiefly by steamboats plying on the river, and by the foreign and coasting steamships. The East River is not so well guarded, the piers are dark, and the vessels, mostly sailing ships, are left to the protection of their crews. It is in this river, therefore, and in the harbor, that the principal depredations of the river thieves are carried on. “Slaughter House Point,” the intersection of James and South streets, and so called by the police because of the many murders which have occurred there, is the principal rendezvous of the East River thieves. Hook Dock, at the foot of Cherry street, is also one of their favorite gathering places.
The life of a river thief is a very hard one, and his gains, as a rule, are small. He is subjected to a great deal of manual labor in the effort to secure his plunder, and is exposed to all sorts of weather. Night work in an open boat in New York harbor is not favorable to longevity, and in eight or ten years the most robust constitution will give way before the constant attacks of rheumatism and neuralgia. There would be some compensation to society in this but for the fact that the police, whose duty it is to watch the river thieves, suffer in a similar way.
The river thieves generally work in gangs of three and four. Each gang has its rowboat, which is constructed with referenceto carrying off as much plunder as possible, and making the best attainable time when chased by the harbor police. The thieves will not go out on a moonlight or even a bright starlight night. Nights when the darkness is so thick that it hides everything, or when the harbor is covered with a dense fog, are most favorable to them. Then, emerging from their starting point, they pull to the middle of the stream, where they lie-to long enough to ascertain if they are observed or followed. Then they pull swiftly to the point where the vessel they mean to rob is lying. Their oars are muffled, and their boat glides along noiselessly through the darkness. Frequently they pause for a moment, and listen to catch the sound of the oars of the police-boats, if any are on their track. Upon reaching the vessel, they generally manage to board her by means of her chains, or some rope which is hanging down her side. The crew are asleep, and the watch is similarly overcome. The thieves are cautions and silent in their movements, and succeed in securing their spoil without awakening any one. They will steal anything they can get their hands on, but deal principally in articles which cannot be identified, such as sugar, coffee, tea, rice, cotton, etc. They go provided with their own bags, and fill these from the original bags, barrels, or cases in which these articles are found on the ship. They are very careful to take away with them nothing which has a distinctive mark by which it may be identified. Having filled their boat, they slip over the side of the ship into it, and pull back to a point on shore designated beforehand, and, landing, convey their plunder to the shop of a junkman with whom they have already arranged matters, where they dispose of it for ready money. They do not confine their operations to vessels lying at the East River piers of New York, but rob those discharging cargo at the Brooklyn stores, or lying at anchor in the East or North rivers, even going as far as to assail those lying at quarantine.
THE RIVER THIEVES.
In order to check their operations as far as possible, a force of about thirty policemen, under Captain James Todd, is assigned to duty in the harbor. The headquarters of this force are on a steamer, which boat was expected to accomplish wonders, butwhich is too large and clumsy to be of any real service. In consequence of this, Captain Todd is obliged to patrol the harbor with row-boats, of which there are several. These boats visit all the piers on the two rivers, and search for thieves or their boats. Sometimes the thieves are encountered just as they are approaching a pier with their boat filled with stolen property, and again the chase will be kept up clear across the harbor. If they once get sight of them, the police rarely fail to overhaul the thieves. Generally the latter submit without a struggle, but sometimes a fight ensues.
The thieves, however, prefer to submit where they have such goods as rice, sugar, coffee, or tea in their possession. They know that it will be impossible to convict them, and they prefer a slight detention to the consequences of a struggle with their captors. The merchant or master of the ship, from whom the goods are stolen, may feel sure in his own mind that the articles found in the possession of the thieves are his property, but he cannot swear that they are his, it being simply impossible to identify such goods. And so the magistrate, though satisfied of the theft, must discharge the prisoner and return him the stolen goods. The only charge against him is that he was found under suspicious circumstances with these articles in his possession. From three to four river thieves are arrested every week, but, for the reason given, few are punished. Sometimes, in order to secure their conviction, the police turn over the thieves to the United States authorities, by whom they are charged with smuggling, this charge being based upon their being found in possession of goods on which they can show no payment of duties. Sometimes they are prosecuted, not for larceny, but for violating the quarantine laws in boarding vessels detained at quarantine.