The City is very proud of its military organization, and both the municipal and State governments contribute liberally to its support. The law organizing the First Division was passed in 1862, when the old volunteer system was entirely reorganized. Previous to this, the volunteers had borne their entire expenses, and had controlled their affairs themselves. By the new law, important changes were introduced.
The division consists of four brigades, and numbers thirteen thousand men. This includes a proper force of field artillery and cavalry. The United States provides the arms and uniforms, which are, when furnished by the General Government, those prescribed by the army regulations. The best regiments, however, prefer a handsomer dress, and provide their own uniforms. The city makes an appropriation of five hundred dollars per annum for each regiment, for an armory. The cost of parades, music, etc., is paid by the regiments themselves. Each regiment has its armory, in which are deposited the arms and valuable property. An armorer is in charge of the building, and it is his duty to keep the guns in good order. A reading room and library are attached to some of these armories, and are used as places of social reunion for the members of the command. Drills are held at stated times, and a rigid discipline is maintained. The men are, as a general rule, proud of their organizations, and enthusiastic in military matters. They are well drilled, and will compare favorably with any troops in the world, in both appearance and efficiency. Nearly all saw service during the late war, and there is not a regiment, we believe, that does not treasure some smoke-begrimed, bullet-rent flag, as its most precious possession. Out of the thirteen thousand men comprising the force, nine thousand were in the field, in active service, at one time during the war, and the division gave the country three thousand seven hundred and eighty officers for the struggle.
These troops are always ready for duty. They are scattered all over the city, pursuing various useful callings, but at a certain signal, sounded by the City Hall bell, they will rally at their armories, and in an hour, there will be thirteen thousand disciplined troops ready to enforce the laws in any emergency. The past services of the division prove that it can always be relied upon.
[Illustration: Old Bowery Theatre.]
The peculiar character of the population of New York, together with the immense throng of strangers always in town, makes it possible to sustain a great many places of amusement in the city.
THE ACADEMY OF MUSIC, on fourteenth street and Irving Place, comes first on the list. It is generally occupied by the Italian Opera, but lately has been used for various purposes. It is one of the largest public halls in the world, and is handsomely fitted up.
PIKE'S OPERA HOUSE, on Twenty-third street and Eighth Avenue, rivals the Academy in the beauty and taste of its internal arrangements. The entrance is through a magnificent marble building, also the property of Mr. Pike, which is one of the ornaments of the city.
BOOTH'S THEATRE, on Twenty-third street and Sixth Avenue, is a handsome freestone edifice. It is the property of Mr. Edwin Booth, the famous tragedian. It is devoted exclusively to the legitimate drama, and will be conducted in a style worthy of the fame of its distinguished proprietor.
BROUGHAM'S THEATRE, in the rear of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, was used during the war for the night sessions of the Gold Board. It is a handsome little building, elegantly arranged internally, and is conducted by Mr. John Brougham, the famous comedian and author.
WALLACE'S, on the corner of Broadway and Twelfth street, is one of the coziest and best conducted places of amusement in the city. It is the property of Mr. Lester Wallack, and is devoted to the legitimate drama. It has the best company in the city, and the two Wallacks are to be seen here alone.
THE OLYMPIC was built for Laura Keene, but has now passed into other hands. It is a well arranged, pleasant hall, and for the last year has been famous as the headquarters of that eccentric individual called "Humpty Dumpty." It is in Broadway below Bleecker street.
NIBLO'S, is in the rear of the Metropolitan Hotel. It is a large comfortable hall, handsomely fitted up. It is devoted entirely to the sensational drama. It was here that those splendid spectacles, the "Black Crook" and the "White Fawn," were produced in such magnificent style.
THE BROADWAY, in Broadway below Broome street, is the property of Barney Williams. The Irish drama is its specialty. It is well patronized.
THE OLD BOWERY, in the Bowery below Canal street, is the only old style theatre in the city. Its audiences come from the east side. The place occupied in modern theatres by the parquette, is here devoted to an old fashioned pit, into which the juveniles of the Bowery region are packed like sheep. One has a fine chance to study humanity in this place. It is managed well, and is devoted to the sensational drama.
THE STADT THEATRE, nearly opposite the OLD BOWERY THEATRE, is the largest in the city. It is the property of Germans, and its performances are in that language. It is well supported.
WOOD'S THEATRE, corner of Broadway and Thirtieth street, is a popular establishment. It is very high up town, but the manager has made it so attractive that it has drawn excellent houses. It has a museum, the successor of Barnum's American Museum, attached to it, and is very popular with the young folks.
Besides these there are several second and third class theatres, many negro minstrel halls, concert rooms, and other places of amusement for all grades and classes. The majority advertise in the daily journals, and by consulting these monitors, one can always find the means of passing a pleasant evening in the Great City.
The city journals frequently contain such advertisements as the following:
"A TEST MEDIUM.—THE ORIGINAL MADAME F——tells everything, traces absent friends, losses, causes speedy marriages, gives lucky numbers. Ladies fifty cents; gentlemen, one dollar. 464——th Avenue."
"A FACT—NO IMPOSITION. The Great European Clairvoyant. She consults you on all affairs of life. Born with a natural gift, she tells past, present, and future; she brings together those long separated; causes speedy marriages; shows you a correct likeness of your future husband or friends in love affairs. She was never known to fail. She tells his name; also lucky numbers free of charge. She succeeds when all others fail. Two thousand dollars reward for any one that can equal her in professional skill. Ladies fifty cents to one dollar. Positively no gents admitted. No. 40——Avenue."
It seems strange that, in this boasted age of enlightenment, the persons who make such announcements as the above, can find any one simple enough to believe them. Yet, it is a fact, that these persons, who are generally women, frequently make large sums of money out of the credulity of their fellow creatures. Every mail brings them letters from persons in various parts of the country. These letters are generally answered, and the contents have disgusted more than one simpleton. The information furnished is such as any casual acquaintance could give, and just as trustworthy as the reports of the "reliable gentleman just from the front," used to prove during the late war. The city custom of these impostors is about equal to that brought to them from the country by means of their advertisements. Some of them make as much as one hundred dollars per day, all of which is a clear profit. The majority earn from three to six dollars per day. Servant girls are profitable customers. Indeed, but for female credulity the business would go down.
Still, there are many male visitors. Speculators, victims of the gaming table and the lottery, come to ask for advice, which is given at random. The woman knows but little of her visitors, and has no means of learning anything about them. Sometimes her statements are found to be true; but it is by the merest accident. The clairvoyants do not hesitate to confess to their friends, in a confidential way, of course, that their pretensions are mere humbuggery, and they laugh at the credulity of their victims, whilst they encourage it. It seems absurd to discuss this subject seriously. We can only say to those who shall read this chapter, that there is not in the city of New York an honest fortune-teller or clairvoyant. They knowingly deceive persons as to their powers. It is not given to human beings to read the future— certainly not to such wretched specimens as the persons who compose the class of which we are writing. The only sensible plan is to keep your money, dear reader. You know more than these impostors can possibly tell you.
Many of these fortune-tellers and clairvoyants are simply procuresses. They draw women into their houses and ply them so with temptations, that they frequently ruin them. This is the real business of most of them. They are leagued with the keepers of houses of ill-fame. No woman is safe who enters their doors.
These parties will also offer for sale "amulets," "charms," or "recipes," which they say will enable a person to win the love of any one of the opposite sex, and excite the admiration of friends; or "to give you an influence over your enemies or rivals, moulding them to your own will or purpose;" or to "enable you to discover lost, stolen, or hidden treasure," etc., etc. For each or any of these charms the modest sum of from three dollars to five dollars is demanded, with "return postage." All these, as well as "love powders," "love elixirs," etc., are either worthless articles, or compounds consisting of dangerous and poisonous chemical substances. Many of the men who deal in them have grown rich, and the trade still goes on. The world is full of fools, and these impostors are constantly on the watch for them.
The harbor of New York comprises the Hudson or North River on the west side of the island, the East River on the east side, and the inner bay lying between the mouth of the Hudson and the Narrows. Beyond the Narrows is the lower bay, which is little more than an arm of the sea, though the anchorage is good and secure.
The harbor contains the shipping of all civilized nations, and the flags of some of the barbaric powers are often to be seen at our piers. The North River piers are devoted to the great ocean steamship lines, and the steamers to domestic ports, while the East River is occupied by the old sail-vessels almost entirely. Each river has its peculiar characteristics, so that in leaving the water on one side of the island, and passing over to it again on the other side, one might easily imagine himself in a different port from that he has just left. The harbor is always full of vessels, and sometimes as many as fifteen first-class steamships will sail from the bay in a single day, bound for foreign and domestic ports. This is exclusive of the large number of river and sound steamboats, and sail-vessels, that arrive and depart daily.
The peace and safety of the harbor are watched over by a police force, whose head-quarters are on a steamer. The force is composed of resolute and daring men, as the persons they have to deal with are mostly hardened characters, reckless sailors and the like. There are twenty- five men in the whole force, under the orders of a Captain and two Sergeants. They have charge of the two rivers and the upper and lower bay, and are constantly moving to and fro in their steamer and row- boats. The headquarters steamer is a gloomy looking black craft, called the "Metropolitan," which may be seen at all hours of the day and night moving swiftly around the city. The harbor police render efficient service during fires in the shipping, and are often called upon to suppress crime and violence, which are attempted beyond the reach of the patrolmen on shore.
Accidents are common in every large port, but the peculiar construction of the New York ferry houses renders the number of cases of drowning doubly great. In order to guard against this, and to afford timely assistance to persons in danger of drowning, "rescue stations" have been established along the water front of the city. There is one at each ferry house, and the others are located at the points where accidents are most likely to occur. These stations are each provided with a ladder of sufficient length to reach from the pier to the water at low tide, with hooks at one end, by means of which it is attached firmly to the pier; a boat hook fastened to a long pole; a life preserver or float, and a coil of rope. These are merely deposited in a conspicuous place. In case of accident any one may use them for the purpose of rescuing a person in danger of drowning, but at other times it is punishable by law to interfere with them, or to remove them. The station is in charge of the policeman attached to the "beat" in which it is located, and he has the exclusive right in the absence of one of his superior officers to direct all proceedings. At the same time he is required to comply strictly with the law regulating such service on his part, and to render every assistance in his power. The law for the government of those using the "rescue apparatus" is posted conspicuously by the side of the implements, as are also concise and simple directions as to the best method of attempting to resuscitate drowned persons. These stations have been of the greatest service since their establishment, and reflect the highest credit on those who originated and introduced them.
Many years ago a sharp-witted scamp appeared in one of the European countries, and offered for sale a pill, which he declared to be a sure protectionagainst earthquakes. Absurd as was the assertion, he sold large quantities of his nostrum, and grew rich on the proceeds. The credulity which enriched this man, is still a marked characteristic of the human race, and often strikingly exhibits itself in this country. The quack doctors, or medical impostors, to whom we shall devote this chapter, live upon it and do all in their power to encourage it.
There are quite a number of such men in New York, and they offer to cure all manner of diseases. Some offer their wares for a small sum, others charge enormous prices. Frequently one of these men will personate half a dozen different characters. The newspapers are full of their advertisements, some of which are really unfit for the columns of a respectable journal. Besides these, they send thousands of circulars, through the mails, to persons in various parts of the country, setting forth the horrors of certain diseases, and offering to cure them for a fixed sum. The circular contains an elaborate description of the symptoms or premonitory signs of these diseases. A very large number of persons, reading these descriptions, really come to the conclusion that they are affected in the manner stated by the quack. So great is the power of the imagination in these cases, that sound healthy men are, sometimes, absolutely led to fancy themselves in need of medical attention. A short conversation with their regular physicians, would soon undeceive them, but they foolishly send their money to the author of the circular in question, and request a quantity of his medicine for the purpose of trying it. The nostrum is received in due time, and is accompanied by a second circular, in which the patient is coolly informed that he must not expect to be cured by one bottle, box, or package, as the case may be, but that five or six, or sometimes a dozen will be necessary to complete the cure, especially if the case is as desperate and stubborn as the letter applying for the medicine seems to indicate. Many are foolish enough to take the whole half dozen bottles or packages, and in the end are no better in health than they were at first. Indeed they are fortunate if they are not seriously injured by the doses they have taken. They are disheartened in nine cases out of ten, and are, at length, really in need of good medical advice. They have paid the quack more money than a good practitioner would demand for his services, and have only been injured by their folly.
It may be safely said that no honest and competent physician will undertake to treat cases by letter.No one worthy of patronage will guarantee a cure in any case, for an educated practitioner understands that cases are many and frequent where the best human skill may be exerted in vain. Further than this, a physician of merit will not advertise himself in the newspapers, except to announce the location of his office or residence. Such physicians are jealous of their personal and professional reputations, and are proud of their calling, which is justly esteemed one of the noblest on earth. They are men of humanity and learning, and they take, perhaps, more pleasure in relieving suffering than in making money. If a patient cannot pay for their services, they give them free in the name of the Great Healer of all ills. They have no such things as private remedies. They use their knowledge for the good of mankind, and are prompt to make known their discoveries, so that all the world may enjoy the benefit, they themselves being rewarded with the fame of their inventions.
Not so with the quacks. A few have some medical knowledge, and are even graduates of regular colleges, but the majority have neither medical knowledge nor skill. They know their remedies are worthless, and they offer them only to make money. They know in many cases that their nostrums will inflict positive injury upon their victims; but they are careless of the harm they do. They live upon human misery.
We may safely assure the reader that not one single physician, so called, who conducts his business by means of advertisements or circulars, is really competent to treat the cases he professes to cure, and that no one knows this better than himself. Do not answer any advertisement you may see in the newspapers. They are worthless. Above all do not take the medicines sent you by the advertisers. Some of them are poisonous substances. If you doubt this assertion, take the compound to any druggist of your acquaintance, and ask him to analyze it, and tell you what it is worth as a healing agent. If you need medical advice, go to some physician that you know and have confidence in. Don't put yourself in the hands of a man you know nothing of, who would just as soon poison you as heal you, and who pursues his calling, in most cases, in violation of the laws of the land. Let quack doctors, or, in other words, advertising doctors, alone_.
As a general rule, the various medicines advertised as "specifics," or "panaceas," for various ills, are humbugs. They are worthless. Many of them are made up of harmless drugs, which can do no harm, if, as is very certain, they do no good; but others are composed of very dangerous substances. The remedies advertised for "private diseases" rarely fail to make the patient worse, either by aggravating the disease itself, or by permanently injuring the constitution. The "Elixirs of Life," "Life Rejuvenators," "Vital Fluids," etc., are either dangerous poisons, or worthless draughts. They contain mercury to a very large extent; and anyone acquainted with the properties of this substance can easily understand how great is the danger of using them. The certificates accompanying them, as testimonials of their merits, are simply forgeries. Some rascally proprietors have not hesitated to use the names of prominent public men, without either their knowledge or consent, in this way. Some of these forgeries have been discovered and exposed, but the majority pass unnoticed. Rest assured, dear reader, that men of character are very chary of such use of their names.
The various bitters which flood the country are only cheap whiskey, or rum and water, made nauseous with drugs. They have no virtue whatever, as medicinal agents, and merely injure the tone of the stomach. Their chief result is to establish the habit of intemperance. They are more fiery than ordinary liquors, and more destructive in their effects.
The various medicinal wines which are offered for sale, are decoctions of elderberry juice and kindred substances, and are more hurtful than beneficial.
The "washes," "lotions," "toilet fluids," etc., are generally apt to produce skin diseases. They contain, in almost every instance, substances which are either directly or indirectly poisonous to the skin.
The "tooth washes," "powders," and "dentrifices," are hurtful. They crack or wear away the enamel of the teeth, leave the nerve exposed, and cause the teeth to decay. If you are wise, dear reader, you will never use a dentrifice, unless you know what it is made of. The principal constituent of these dentrifices is a powerful acid, and there are some which contain large quantities of sulphuric acid, one single application of which will destroy the best teeth in the world.
The "hair dyes," advertised under so many different names, contain such poisons as nitrate of silver, oxide of lead, acetate of lead, and sulphate of copper. These are fatal to the hair, and generally injure the scalp.
The "ointments" and "onguents," for promoting the growth of whiskers and moustaches, are either perfumed and colored lard, or poisonous compounds, which contain quick lime, or corrosive sublimate, or some kindred substance. If you have any acquaintance who has ever used this means of covering his face with a manly down, ask him which came first, the beard, or a troublesome eruption on the face.
One of the popular "dodges" of the rogues who sell such compounds as we have been describing, is to insert such an advertisement as the following in the newspapers of the country.
"A RETIRED PHYSICIAN, of forty years' practice, discovered, while in India, a sure remedy for consumption, bronchitis, colds, etc. Having relinquished his practice, he has no further use for the remedy, and will send it free on receipt of a three cent stamp to pay return postage."
Sometimes the advertisement is that of a "retired clergyman," and sometimes it is in the following form:
"A lady who has been cured of great nervous debility, after many years of misery, desires to make known to all fellow sufferers, the sure means of relief. Address, enclosing a stamp, Mrs.——, P. O. box—, New York, and the prescription will be sent free by return mail."
A single moment's reflection ought to convince any sensible person that the parties thus advertising are humbugs. It costs a great deal to advertise, and as the announcements we refer to can be seen in every paper in the land, it is safe to say that the "retired physician" and "clergyman," or the "nervous lady," expend each from five to ten thousand dollars per annum in advertising. The reader will see at a glance, that, however benevolent such parties may be, they cannot afford to give away so much money every year. The manner in which the business is managed is as follows:
The "retired physician" and "clergyman," and the "nervous lady," are one and the same individual. The man personating them is an ignorant knave. He scatters his advertisements broadcast over the land. Letters come, asking for his valuable recipe. He sends the prescription, and notifies the party asking for it, that if the articles named in it cannot be procured by him at any drug store convenient to him, he, the "retired physician," "clergyman," or "nervous lady," will furnish them, upon application, at a certain sum, (generally averaging five dollars,) which he assures him is very cheap, as the drugs are rare and expensive. The articles named in the prescription are utterly unknown to any druggist in the world, and the names are the production of the quack's own brains, and, as a matter of course, the patient is unable to procure them at home, and sends an order for them with the price, to the "retired physician," "clergyman," or "nervous lady," and in return receives a nostrum compounded of drugs, which any apothecary could have furnished at one half the expense. In this way the "benevolence" of the quack is very profitable. Men have grown rich in this business, and it is carried on to an amazing extent in this city. It is done in violation of the law, and the benevolent individual not unfrequently falls into the hands of the police, but, as soon as released, he opens his business under a new name. As long as there are fools and dupes in the world, so long will the "retired physician" find an extensive practice.
Any one who chooses to do so, can verify our statement by a simple application at the police headquarters of this city. The accomplished and energetic Superintendent of the Metropolitan force is a stern foe to swindlers of all kinds, and he can furnish any one who desires it with more interesting details on this subject than we can possibly give. One proof of our assertions is the fact that these quack doctors and patent medicine proprietors rarely use their own names in their business. They operate under a variety ofaliases.
The old "Fashion Course," on Long Island, which was formerly the scene of the triumphs of the monarchs of the turf, has of late been eclipsed by the course at "Jerome Park," in West Chester county. This course is situated near Fordham, and is the private property of Mr. Leonard W. Jerome. The grounds are large, and handsomely ornamented, and the race- course has been prepared with great care and skill. The meetings of the American Jockey Club are held here. They attract vast crowds. The best points of view, and the most beautiful parts of the grounds, are reserved exclusively for the use of the members of the club and their friends, and the remainder of the enclosure has been thrown open to the public. Mr. Jerome's liberality is appreciated by the outside throng, and the races are not marred with any act of rowdyism or lawlessness.
The races are the occasion of a great deal of money changing hands. Bets are freely offered and taken on the various horses, and the struggle of the noble beasts is watched by thousands of anxious eyes. The greatest excitement prevails amongst theelitein the private stands, as well as throughout the common herd below. Every eye is strained to watch the swift coursers as they whirl down the track, and when the quarter-stretch is gained, the excitement is beyond all control. The victor steed flashes with lightning speed by the judges' stand amidst a storm of cheers and yells of delight. Bayonet, Bonnie Lass, and Stonewall Jackson, are the favorites, and the winning horses during the present season.
The course is still new, but the system which it has inaugurated is becoming more thorough every year. The management is in the hands of gentlemen of character, who are seeking to make at least one place in the country where the blackguards and reckless gamblers who disgrace the American turf shall be powerless to control affairs. The benefits of this management will be very great. The stock of the State will be vastly improved, and the metropolis, especially, will be able to boast some of the finest blooded racers in the world.
During the meetings, the road from the city to the course, which lies through the Central Park, presents a scene richly worth witnessing. It is thronged with brilliant equipages, and some of the finest and most dashing horses to be seen in America. All classes are represented. You will see Commodore Vanderbilt, with his fine buggy and splendid trotters, while, behind him, follows hard a butcher's cart and its merry occupants, the fiery little cob throwing the dirt in the eyes of many a Fifth Avenue team. The greatest good humor is manifested on all sides, and all press forward eagerly to witness the sport in store for them at "Jerome Park."
In almost any New York journal you will find such advertisements as the following:
"An honorable gentleman, established in business, desires for a wife a lady of means and respectability. Address M. J. P., Station D, New York."
"A gentleman of the highest respectability, who has lately come into possession of a large fortune, desires to make the acquaintance of a lady with a view to matrimony. Must be handsome, accomplished, amiable, healthy, and pious, and not over twenty-five. Address Husband, Herald office."
It is probable that some of the parties thus advertising may be in earnest, but it is very certain that matrimony is the last intention of the majority of them. There are not many persons who will care to marry a woman won through the columns of a newspaper. Such simpletons would deserve whatever trouble or shame such an alliance would bring about.
Many young men and women insert these advertisements for the sake of "having a little sport," though, as we shall show, the sport thus produced is of a very dangerous character.
A young man, not long since, advertised for a wife through the columns of a city paper, merely designing the affair as a piece of sport. His communication was answered by a woman, whose handwriting was that of an educated person. Several letters passed between the parties, and the young man, wishing to see his unknown correspondent, asked an interview with her. She demanded to know if he really meant to marry her. She would not see him without a positive answer on this point. She enclosed him her photograph. The picture was that of a young and beautiful woman, and of course inflamed the young man's desire to see the original. It would have been well for him if he had dropped the correspondence at once, but he foolishly allowed himself to be led on farther, and wrote to the woman, declaring that he was serious in his intentions, and would marry her if she would have him. He consoled himself with the thought that he had signed a fictitious name to the letter. The next day he received a communication from the woman, asking him to call upon her at her residence, which was given. He did so. He found that her picture had not deceived him—that she was both young and beautiful.
She received him graciously, and in the course of the conversation asked him if the letters she held in her hand, were his. He glanced at them, and assured her that they were. After a short interview, he took his departure, promising to visit her the next day. Judge his surprise when she saluted him, upon his return, by his proper name. In great confusion, he denied his name, but she quietly told him that he had been followed from her house by friends of hers on the previous night. She had taken good care to establish his identity. Besides that, she had had two witnesses concealed behind the heavy window curtains during the previous day, who had overheard his acknowledgment of his written offer of marriage. She told him frankly that she had no wish to marry him, and would surrender to him his letters, and leave him in peace, if he would pay her five thousand dollars. If he refused, she would bring suit against him for ten thousand dollars damages for a breach of promise. He refused her demand, and left the house. He went immediately to a lawyer and laid his case before him. The lawyer consented to see the woman, and report the result of his interview. He did so, and the result was that, finding the woman to be one with whom no man's name ought to be associated in such a matter, and seeing that her case was so strong, he advised his client to comply with her demand, and receive back his letters. This advice was taken, and the young man, who was, fortunately for him, quite wealthy, and able to pay the money, secured his letters and lost his money. He has not advertised for a wife since then.
Men, however, are not often caught in this way. The victims are chiefly young girls, who think it a fine thing to answer an advertisement. One of these foolish girls, living in a neighboring State, once answered an advertisement for a wife, thinking it would be fine fun to carry on such a correspondence. She received and replied to several letters, but as she signed her true name to none of her own, considered herself safe. She was surprised one day by being summoned into the parlor by her father. She there found a villainous looking fellow, who announced himself as her correspondent. He had come from New York with his last letter, and had watched the post-office, until he heard the young girl call for it, and had followed her home. He had all her letters with him, and demanded five hundred dollars as the price of them, threatening, in case he was refused, to make the matter public in the town. The girl was overwhelmed with shame and confusion at her folly, and her father was very angry with her. He threatened to have the man arrested for endeavoring to extort money in such a manner, but the fellow reminded him that such a course would only make the scandal greater. There was no help for it. The girl had been foolish, but had done nothing to merit the scandal which would ensue if the matter were made public, so the father bought back the letters at the scoundrel's price, and the affair was hushed up. The girl was cured of her folly, and will never again commit so thoughtless and foolish a blunder.
By far the greatest number of advertisements of this kind are inserted by persons who wish to levy black mail upon those who are foolish enough to reply to them. Persons unaccustomed to these wretches cannot imagine how patiently and persistently they will work to discover the names of their correspondents. Distance is no obstacle to them, for they can follow a letter anywhere. The best plan is not to notice matrimonial advertisements at all.
There are several women in the city who advertise to introduce strangers into the best society, and to procure wives and husbands from the same element for their customers. As a general rule, these women are simply procuresses. If, however, a man desiring to marry a woman in this city, seeks their aid, they will always find some means of assisting him. The charge for their services is either a percentage on the lady's fortune, or a certain specified sum. The woman, or broker, will devise some means of making the acquaintance of the lady against whom her arts are to be directed, and will proceed cautiously, step by step, until she has caused her victim to meet the man for whom she is working. The arts used vary according to circumstances, but they rarely fail of success. Men who wish to accomplish the ruin of some innocent girl, also seek the aid of these brokers, and frequently, through their assistance, effect their purpose. If it is necessary, the victim, after being allured to the broker's house, is drugged. These women are the vampires of society. It is very difficult for the authorities to make a case against them, and they generally go unpunished.
The first column of theHerald, and a prominent column of nearly all the city papers, bears the above heading. The advertisements in these columns are curiosities in their way. The most confidential communications are inserted here without fear of detection. Where meetings are desirable, and letters would be read by parties interested in preventing such meetings, these personals accomplish the object quickly and without danger. The vilest and most infamous transactions are thus arranged. Roués make appointments with their victims, thieves announce to each other some plan of action for a daring robbery, and false wives notify their lovers of the time and place of a future meeting. All classes use the personal column for all purposes. Some of the advertisements are utterly unintelligible to any but those for whom they are intended. Others are easily deciphered.
The following, which we clip from a city paper, will explain one use to which the personal column is put. We need hardly say that all such affairs do not end so harmlessly:
A few months ago, the following personal advertisement appeared in one of our morning papers:
'SWEET FACE AT THE WINDOW.—Will the beautiful young lady who smilesnearly every morning upon the gent who rides past her house on theEighth Avenue cars, have the kindness to address a note to "Admirer,"Station "E," stating when and how an interview may be had?'
Chancing to know the smitten youth, who inserted this amorous 'personal,' we resolved to see what came of it. He was what is generally termed a quiet man, and the last person in the world to engage in a flirtation. It seemed even strange that he should venture to such an extreme in order to make the acquaintance of any lady, and that he must have been desperately in love with that 'sweet face at the window' was the only conclusion that we could arrive at.
The next day he received nine different letters in answer to this advertisement, showing beyond a doubt that there was more than one 'sweet face at the window' that smiled on some fortunate passenger or other, every morning, and who undoubtedly imagined that her face was the one alluded to by this advertiser.
Our friend was in a quandary. Some natures would have embraced them all, but his heart only sought the one 'sweet face' that had haunted him so long, and in his perplexity he sought our counsel. It was finally arranged that he should answer the entire lot, and appoint a meeting with each at a well-known restaurant, where, unknown to all save the one he sought, he could not only have an opportunity of viewing the other 'sweet faces,' but see and recognize the one he sought for without disturbing the expectations of the others.
The evening came, and our friend entered the saloon and took a position at a table where he could observe all who entered. As the hour approached, quite a number of ladies came in, and took seats at various tables. They each bore on their 'sweet faces' looks of expectancy, and after taking a good observation of each gentleman present, they placed themselves in such positions as to be able to see whoever entered after them. There might have been a question about the peculiar 'sweetness' of all of them, but there could be none relative to their matrimonial desires. They all, or a majority of them, had passed that bewitching period when woman's charms are the most enticing, and seemed anxious not to pass into the sere and yellow leaf without some one on whom they could lean for support.
Finally his eye fell upon the object of his search. He left the table and his refreshments, and approached her as she came toward him. The meeting was as cordial as might have been expected, and even more so. He led her back to the table he had just left, and, ordering more refreshments, he fell to talking in the most cordial manner, while the other 'waiting ones' looked on in wonderment. To a few of them the truth was plain, but a majority still lingered in hopes of being made as happy as the other young lady now appeared to be. But our friend soon sought the open air with his fair companion, leaving the others to whatever fate might be in store for them.
She was really a fine looking woman, and those qualities, taken in connection with a good education and a quaint brilliancy of conversation, would have made her really attractive to any man of taste, and, on this occasion, completely carried our poor friend's heart by storm. The hours glided by, like the silvery chime of bells, and before ten o'clock, the hour mentioned as the one bordering her furthest stay, she had completely won our bachelor friend, and counted him among her jewels new.
So sincere and true is he that he is too apt to look for the same qualities in others, and, in this instance, he bared his whole heart and confessed his love. But she had such a delightful way of laughing off a serious proposition, and of disserting that the lover was only trying to make himself agreeable, (which, under such circumstances, was perfect justifiable, she thought,) and that he would probably forget her when out of sight, and in the presence of a handsomer face; that, to say nothing of their short acquaintance, it could not be that he really meant anything of the kind, so that by the time he had arrived at the location of where they were to part, she had completely dazed the poor lover, and leaving him with a kind good-night, he stood riveted to the spot, gazing after her as one gazes on the track of a meteor.
No sleep for him that night. The next morning, as he rode down to business, that 'sweet face at the window' greeted him, more radiant than ever, but at the same time more puzzling; for mingling with the ripple of her smile, there was something that looked like triumph on her face. At all events, from the first hour of their meeting a capital flirtation was kept up on her part, although her victim was in downright earnest, and deeply in love.
With all the ardor of Romeo, he sought to win her love; to turn her from the lightness and frivolity of coquetting, to the more womanly aspirations of home and marriage, and to penetrate the veil of mystery and doubt in which she seemed enfolded, and into which she plunged herself the more closely if followed. But all to no purpose. Weeks and months passed away, and she seemed to be enjoying her new sensation hugely. Drives through the park, excursions to the suburbs, balls, operas, theatres, all, all in the same mode, and all seemingly looked upon as the adjuncts of a splendid flirtation.
At last he awoke from the spell she had cast so bewitchingly around him, and openly accused her of trifling with his affections, and of caring nothing whatever for him beyond the part he acted as beau and cavalier, which part he had become tired of acting. To this she plead not guilty in such eloquent terms, bringing to her aid a woman's most powerful auxiliaries, her tears, that the poor dupe repented of his accusations, and was ready to fall upon his knees and crave her pardon.
She loved him, she said, but why should either of them rush madly and blindly into matrimony, without considering or knowing each other? How could either of them be sure that their present love would continue beyond a honeymoon? In this way she paved the road for another six months' flirtation, during the continuation of which she managed to conceal her identity as effectively as ever.
But there came a time when the mask fell, and the veil was rent in twain. A gentleman waited upon him one evening, an entire stranger, having in his hand a small box, which he placed upon the table, and accepted a seat with coldness and importance. He was, he said, and perhaps unfortunately, the husband of the young woman to whom our friend had been paying his attentions for quite a time, and, as he had been convinced that he was acting innocently and in the dark, he had come to make an explanation.
The poor fellow attempted to speak, but some emotion choked his utterance; and he reseated himself in the chair from which he had arisen. The man went on to state that he had become acquainted with his wife in a similar way to the one which had brought them together; that he had married her, and had been compelled to witness the continuation of her flirtations, and acknowledged that our friend was not the only one with whom she was maintaining such relations even then. He then coolly opened the box and handed him back the various presents he had bestowed upon his wife, after which he retired as politely as possible.
"The lover was cured. He patronizes another line of horse cars, and to this day never allows himself to be led into another flirtation, however attractive may be a 'sweet face at the window.'"
You may see at certain points on Broadway, maimed and battered veterans, sitting through the whole day grinding a hand-organ for a living. These men have heard sterner music than that by which they earn their scanty subsistence, and have participated in a nobler struggle for life.
In the spring of 1861, there went through the States of the Union a cry that had never been heard in them before. It was the thrilling appeal of the Union for aid against its foes. How it was answered, how thousands of warriors started forth at the call, all men know.
Among those who responded to this call, was a young man just entering upon the great drama of life. He had worked hard during his boyhood, and was at this time one of the most promising and skilful mechanics in one of our eastern cities. It was a great sacrifice for him to abandon all the bright prospects before him; but the love of country was warm in his breast, and he made the sacrifice cheerfully.
John Williams saw his first active service in the numerous outpost and picket encounters, which marked the autumn and winter of 1861, while the army under General McClellan was organizing on the banks of the Potomac. There he distinguished himself by his firmness and vigilance, as well as by his unfaltering courage.
[Illustration: The Soldier Minstrel.]
When the campaign of the Peninsula began, he was with the advance of the army, and participated in the great reconnoisance of the 5th and 6th of April, 1862. At Williamsburg he was wounded in the arm, and did not return to the army until the great battles of 'the seven days' had commenced. He bore himself bravely through the whole of this trying time, and came out of the fights unhurt.
During the retreat through White Oak Swamp, it was necessary to destroy a small foot-bridge over a little watercourse. The enemy were pressing on behind, and the task of demolishing the bridge was one of great danger. General Sumner, seeing the condition of affairs, called for one volunteer to cut away the log that still supported the structure. John Williams sprang forward, and, seizing the axe which was held out to him, dashed towards the bridge. In another instant his heavy blows were falling on the log, sending its chips right and left. He had scarcely begun when the enemy's skirmishers appeared on the other side of the stream. Seeing him thus engaged, they opened a rapid fire upon him. The balls flew all around him, two went through his hat, and his comrades looked every moment for his death. But he did not shrink from his post. He only brought the axe down heavier and faster upon the log. A minute of painful suspense to his friends went by, and then the bridge fell, with a crash, into the stream. Waving his cap triumphantly, the brave fellow rejoined his company. For this gallant deed Private Williams was, at General Sumner's special request, made a corporal.
From Harrison's Landing he went with the army to the Potomac again, and followed McClellan to South Mountain and Antietam. Here his conduct again drew upon him the notice of his officers; and when the army lay at Harper's Ferry, preparatory to its advance into Virginia, he received his sergeant's warrant, and a flattering note from General Sumner, who, although wounded himself, had not forgotten him.
He was at Fredericksburg, and there lost his left arm. It was a severe trial to him, for in the trade to which he had been trained, and to which he hoped to return at the close of the war, both arms were necessary. Nevertheless, he bore up against everything, and submitted to his long and painful suffering as only a brave man can. When the wound was healed, he went back to his command. He had no idea of claiming his discharge for the loss of only one arm. He said, cheerfully, he would only leave the service when the other arm, or a leg, went from him.
He was well enough to participate in the battle of Chancellorsville, but not sufficiently restored to health to meet the fate which there befell him, for, toward the close of the second day's engagement, he was taken prisoner. A few days later he was marched to Richmond, and there became an inmate of the famous 'Libby prison.' A dreary attack of sickness followed his arrival there, and lasted several months.
Hospital life, even among one's own friends, is not pleasant. To a prisoner, among his enemies, even though they be kind and humane, it is horrible. He is constantly haunted by the fear that he will die there, and that his fate will never be known to his friends at home. So, in spite of the bravery of Sergeant Williams, this feeling constantly preyed upon him and retarded his recovery.
The weeks and months went by slowly, and at last the long imprisonment came to an end. The sick man was sent back to the North, among a number of others, who were exchanged under a special arrangement. A furlough was granted him to go home and recruit his health. He was so weak and thin when he went back to his old home, that his friends scarcely knew him. But his native air, and the cheerful home scenes, soon brought him up again, and when he returned to his regiment, he was as well and as hearty as ever. He reached the army just after Grant had taken command of it, and was reorganizing it for the last grand campaign against Richmond.
He began the march with a light heart and happy anticipations. They were cut short at Cold Harbor, where he lost his right leg. His days of service were now over, and he went into the hospital to await his recovery, when he would have to go back to the world unfitted for almost any avocation. Still he consoled himself with the hope that the people for whom he had fought and suffered, would not let him lack for some means of employment.
When he was able to leave the hospital, the war had been decided, and the great struggle was over. He received his honorable discharge from the government, and transportation to the city where he had enlisted. After a brief rest, he set about looking for employment.
It was a harder task than he had anticipated. No one had anything for him to do, 'Times were so dull,' 'there was so little to do,' that no one could think of employing him. In vain he urged his services to the country and for them. They were very sorry for him. They would help him if they could; but really it was impossible.
Every day his small stock of money grew smaller, and with it his hopes grew fainter. At last he disappeared from the notice of his friends, to re-appear again in a short time under different circumstances.
One day his friends were attracted by the sight of a crowd collected around a cracked and ricketty hand-organ. Approaching it they found that the organ-grinder was no less a person than Sergeant Williams. He was clad in his suit of faded blue, with his sergeant's chevrons and all. He was grinding away at his old hand-organ as the last means left him for support. Every day he may be seen along the principal streets of the city, patiently and sadly earning his pittance in this way—a mode so very repugnant to one's manhood.
This is the end and reward of his services and sufferings. In a land so prosperous, so favored as our own, a soldier of the Union, in his garb of honor, who has given for his country everything but his life, is forced to resort to an avocation formerly considered only fit for vagrants. It is no discredit to him, for he bears himself there as proudly as he did when following the old flag; but there is a bitter, burning sense of wrong in his heart. Perhaps you may know, dear reader, who is responsible for it.
Formerly the city was much injured and rendered unhealthy, by the practice of killing animals for market in the crowded sections. In the summer these slaughtering establishments were perfect pesthouses. Now the slaughtering is done almost entirely at the abattoirs, or slaughter houses, at Communipaw, New Jersey. The buildings used for this purpose are large, and are fitted up with every convenience. The cost of killing is slight, and the butchers are well repaid by having their meat sent to them in excellent condition. The abattoirs are situated on the shore of the bay, where the pure sea breezes keep them fresh and healthful, and the refuse matter and filth are thrown into the water and carried off by the tide.
The mode of slaughtering is by machinery, as far as possible, and is a great improvement on the old method. Any one who has witnessed the slaughtering of animals in our small butcher shops could not fail noticing that more brutality was used upon the creatures than was necessary to secure death. According to methods which were formerly general in their application, and now are by no means exceptions to the practice, beeves were killed with heavy hammers, the butcher pegging away upon their heads until insensibility ensued; and sheep and hogs were either pounded to death or see-sawed across the throat until their heads were nearly severed from their bodies. When the bodies were shipped for market, much, difficulty was found in effecting a ready sale, on account of their bruised and bloodless appearance. The system by which the work is performed at the abattoirs is as humane and painless to the animal as the taking of life can be; and as a large portion of the business is done by machinery, the bodies are not subject to contusions, and, consequently, present a fresh, healthy appearance after death. To show the superiority of the new system over the old method of slaughtering was the object of our former illustrations. Upon recent observation, we found that where the average weekly number of cattle killed, dressed, and shipped was about fifteen hundred, that of hogs was nearly ten times as great, and we now give a faithful representation of this portion of the work.
"The apartment in which hogs are slaughtered is upon the second floor of the building, and our first scene is that of the pen into which the animals are driven from their quarters. A chain clasp, patented by Mr. P.W. Dalton, who superintends this department, is fastened to one of the hind legs, and this being attached to a rope connected with a huge wheel, the hog is raised from the floor and swung to a stand, where a ring of the clasp is caught on a large hook descending from the axle of a sheave or wheel, which runs along a railway, and the hog is pushed through a small passage-way into a second pen.
"By the time it has reached this place, its excitement has subsided, and it hangs in a comparatively quiet manner. The butcher watches a fitting opportunity, and cuts the hog's throat with a sharp knife, and swings it further along on the railway.
"As soon as each sheave is used the hogs are lowered into the scalding- tub, which is about fourteen feet long, four feet wide, and three and a half feet deep. They are allowed to remain in boiling water one minute, and are then turned out upon the scraping-bench by an instrument extending across the tub, and furnished with several long teeth. At this bench are about fourteen men, each of whom has something to do on every hog that is sent down. The first two on each side, technically known as scuddlers, scrape the bristles from the head and shoulders; the next four shave, with long knives, the remainder of the body, and roll it to the end of the bench, where a final scraping takes place; a gambrel is inserted in the hind legs, and the hog is forwarded on a sheave to the dressers' table.
"For this work there are several men, each one having a special portion assigned to him. As soon as the entrails have been removed, and the body properly cleansed, it is removed to the drying apartment, where it remains suspended on parallel 'runs' until the following day, when it is weighed, and then delivered to the wagons from windows, by means of shoots. The entrails, and other portions removed from the bodies, are taken to another part of the building, where a most extensive and complete lard manufactory is in constant operation.
"Here are eight monster iron caldrons, into which the raw material is thrown; a powerful current of steam is introduced from beneath, and the fat is rapidly reduced to a liquid state. It is then run off into smaller vats, where it remains to settle and cool sufficiently to be packed for shipping. During the busy season one hundred and twenty tierces of pure lard and forty tierces of soap grease are drawn off daily. The sediment at the bottom of the vats is removed, and assists in filling up the Hackensack river.
"With all the hurry and confusion incident to the immense amount of work done, it is remarkable how the building can be kept in so inoffensive a condition, and all the labor performed in such a quiet and orderly manner. The most scrupulous cleanliness is observed in every department, and the ventilation is perfect."
There is located on the East river side of the great city, an establishment which has been but lately introduced. It is the Morgue, or Dead House, and is modelled after the famous place of the same name in Paris. Bodies found in the streets, or in the harbor, are brought here and left a certain time for identification. Each article of clothing found upon them, or any trinket, or other property, which might lead to the discovery of the name and friends of the dead, is carefully preserved. Bodies properly identified are surrendered to the friends of the deceased. Those unclaimed are interred at the expense of the city, and their effects are preserved a much longer time for purposes of identification.
It is a gloomy looking building, this Morgue, and it is rarely empty. In a dark, cheerless room, with a stone floor, there are rows of marble slabs supported by iron frames. Over each one of these is a water jet. Stretched on these cold beds, are lifeless forms, entirely covered with a sheet except as to their faces, which stare blankly at the dark ceiling. A constant stream of fresh water falls on the lifeless breasts, and trickles over the senseless forms, warding off decay to the latest moment, in the vain hope that some one to whom the dead man or woman was dear in life may come and claim the body. It is a vain hope, for but a few bodies are claimed. Nearly all go to the potter's field, where they sleep well in their nameless graves.
The dark waters of the rivers and bay send many an inmate to this gloomy room. The harbor police, making their early morning rounds, find some dark object floating in the waters. It is scarcely light enough to distinguish it, but the men know well what it is. They are accustomed to such things. They grapple it and tow it in silent horror past the long lines of shipping, and pause only when the Morgue looms up coldly before them in the uncertain light of the breaking day. The still form is lifted out of the water, and carried swiftly into the gloomy building. It is laid on the marble slab, stripped, covered with a sheet, the water is turned on, and the room is deserted and silent again. Shall we tell you the story, reader, of this unfortunate man.
Step back with us, and look at the face lying so cold and white under the trickling water. It is that of a young man; there is a deep gash in the forehead, and the sheet over the breast is stained with blood.
Only two days ago this young man, in high health, and full of life and spirits, left his home in a neighboring State for a visit to the great city. A mother's blessing and a sister's kiss hallowed his departure, and even his faithful dog seemed loth to part from him. He laughed at the fears of his dear ones, and gayly promised a speedy and safe return. [Footnote: The reader will find this story told with inimitable fidelity in our illuminated title page, the scenes embodied in that engraving explain themselves, and convey no uncertain warning.] He reached the city, and his business was soon transacted. He had heard much in his country home of the dangers to which unsophisticated strangers were apt to fall in the Metropolis, but he had laughed at the idea of his being so silly as to allow himself to be treated so. He would take just one glance at the shady side of city life, to satisfy his curiosity, and have something to talk about at home, and would then start on his return. He would merely be a looker on.
A gaudy transparency in front of a cellar caught his eye, and invited him to come and enjoy the hospitalities of Madame X——'s Varieties. An inward voice bade him shun the place, but as he was only going for curiosity, he silenced the faithful monitor, and boldly entered. He would not have liked to have any friend see him there, and he entered the hall timidly. Not knowing what else to do, he seated himself at a neighboring table. The room was full of girls, whose very appearance made him blush for shame, and with men who eyed him with no friendly looks. In a moment, two girls came and seated themselves beside him, and bade him "be sociable." Not wishing to appear "verdant," the young man, whose rusticity was evident to every one in the room, threw off his timidity, and boldly ordered liquor. He drank deeply, to keep up his courage, and, determining to "have his fun out," commenced a lively conversation with the girls. A man and a woman soon sought the same table, and the party became the very merriest in the room. The young man, who had come only through curiosity, was determined to enjoy himself. At a late hour, he left the hall, with just enough of reason remaining to know what he was doing. As he reached the street he was joined by two men, who had followed him from the saloon. Accosting him, they told him they were glad he had left the hall.
"Why?" he asked in surprise.
"Because," he answered, "those girls you were with had laid a plan to make you drunk, and rob you. They know you are a stranger in the city, and they are after your money."
The young man's liquor had robbed him of his discretion, and he answered, thickly, that he had over two hundred dollars with him, that he had collected that day. A look of intelligence passed between the two men. One of them asked the young man if he would not go into a neighboring barroom and drink with them. He muttered something about wanting to go to his hotel, but they assured him that, after a friendly drink, they would take him there. He went with them. Glasses were filled and drained, and the young man was in high spirits with his new friends. If the bar-keeper suspected anything, he held his peace.
The three men then left the "Gin palace" together, and the young man, relying upon their promise to conduct him to his hotel, went with them without suspicion. They led him down dark, crooked streets, assuring him that he was almost at his lodgings. The air grew fresher and fresher, and at last the low ripple of the waves was heard as they dashed in upon the shore. A momentary ray of prudence flashed through the drunken helplessness of the doomed man, and, alarmed by the strangeness of the scene and the sight of the river, he stopped short, and declared he would go no further.
His prudence came too late. In an instant, he was felled to the ground by a heavy blow from one of his companions. At the same moment, they were joined by two other men, who came up so suddenly that they almost seemed to spring out of the darkness. A handkerchief was tied tightly over the victim's mouth, and, catching him up in their arms, the four men bore him rapidly out to the end of one of the most deserted piers. The sense of his danger roused the poor fellow from his drunken stupor, and almost sobered him. He struggled violently to free himself from his assassins, but they held him down with grips of iron. A heavy blow on the forehead from a "billy," rendered him senseless, and a well-aimed knife-thrust sent him into eternity. The murderers, accustomed to such work, quickly rifled his pockets of money, watch, and other valuables. Then there was a heavy splash in the dark water, and the secret was confided to the keeping of the silent stars.
The harbor police found the body, as we have described, and conveyed it to the Morgue.
Weary with waiting and watching, the friends of the young man will come hurriedly to the city, and the police authorities, who know well where to look for such missing ones, will take them to the Morgue, where their lost darling lies waiting for them.
Young man, if curiosity tempts you to seek to penetrate the secrets of the great city, remember that you may learn them only to your cost.