Very good investment of two hundred dollars, was it not? But stop a minute. We saidnominalvalue. As the articles were all gold and silver—at any rate, professed to be—it was easy to ascertain their actual value; so they were sent to the United States Assay Office, melted up, and a certificate of the net proceeds returned. And how much does the ingenious reader suppose this five hundred and ninety-nine dollars of gold and silver proved to be worth?Just nine dollars and sixty-two cents($9.62)! That was what our friend got for the two hundred dollars cash he had invested. And that is about what anybody will get who chooses to invest money in enterprises of this kind.
The certificate jewelry business is, in fact, under whatever name carried on, nothing but a gigantic fraud, extending far and wide over the country, and causing many innocent but rather green people losses they can ill afford. During the war, the soldiers were cheated enormously by it. Millions of dollars have been paid for utterly worthless stuff.
But it is not only in bogus jewelry that prizes are warranted. Gold pens are held out as an inducement. What village poetaster or scribbler for the weekly journal—enjoying a reputation among his acquaintances for 'smart writing'—imagining himself a second Byron or another Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., but what likes to sport a gold pen with 'silver case' before the admiring eyes of friends or the envious glances of rivals, as the instrument with which the flow of melody or pathetic romance in the 'Trumpetown Blower' is produced. By such the circular of the '——-Gold Pen Co.' sent through the post-office, is warmly welcomed. A careful perusal, a comparison of the different styles and prices, and then, of course, a remittance. The pen arrives in a handsome velvet-lined box. A glance and the possessor is entranced; he tries it, it writes smoothly, and forthwith it is cleaned, placed in the pocket and carelessly shown by accident' to friends. Another trial—alas! the ink sticks; the pen corrodes; the gold comes off; the silver holder turns black; polishing fails to produce a shine, and eventually it is apparent that a swindle has been perpetrated and that the 'cheap gold pen' is, after all, but copper or brass; thousands of these pens are sent in a week by express to all parts of the country and as many dupes made to pay fifty times their value to the adroit swindlers who manufacture them.
"The postmaster at Wakeman, Huron county, Ohio, having heard of this— Pen Co., sent for a circular, which was at once forwarded. Selecting a certain pen he remitted the money for it; in reply he received an old copper pen not worth three cents; he immediately remonstrated in a second letter, and a third, of which no notice was taken, and the unfortunate United States official was obliged to consider himself swindled. This is but an instance of many."
Remember, dear reader, there is no royal road to fortune. Keep your money, or invest it more sensibly, for there is not one single gift association in the world in which you will meet with anything but the vilest deceit and dishonesty. You will be robbed in any and all of them.
The Dollar Stores of the land are mere humbugs. The articles sold are dear at the prices asked. The watches are worthless, the diamonds and other jewels are paste, and the gold is pinchbeck or Dutch metal. An article for which they ask one dollar is worth in reality about ten cents. On higher priced articles their profit is in proportion. A few weeks' use will show the real value of a purchase made at one of these places.
Those employment agencies whose advertisements may be daily seen in our city papers, are well exposed in the following experience of a young man in want of a situation.
I have no trade or profession. My parents were well off in the world, and; without thinking that their riches might take to themselves wings and fly away, they considered it of no importance that I should become master of anything but the graces of society. But misfortune did come and left them without a dollar in the world, although neither of them lived long to contend with poverty. I found myself illy adapted to anything, and was, as you may well suppose, at a loss which way to turn.
I applied to one or two acquaintances; but they could make no use of a man who knew nothing at all of the ways of trade, or of the arts and sciences; and so I was treated to not a few very gloomy forebodings. While glancing over the columns of a daily newspaper, my eye rested on the following advertisement.
'WANTED, clerks, copyists, collectors, timekeepers, watchmen, potters, bartenders, coachmen, grooms, two valets to travel. Immediate employment.'
It was such a spontaneous affair; so general and so pliable that I resolved to avail myself of some of its many chances. So I entered the 'office' with great expectations.
I am a good penman and at once resolved to take up the situation as copyist, and using that as a foundation for future superstructure, to do my best, early and late. I entered the room. There didn't seem to be such a rush of applicants there as I had anticipated; in fact, the room was entirely unoccupied, save by a flashy youth who seemed to be doing his best to smoke himself out with a very bad segar. I mentioned my errand to him and he instantly became very polite.
The proprietor was not in just then but would probably be in sometime during the day. The first thing, however, for me to do, was to register my name and pay a fee of two dollars, which would entitle me to the situation I coveted. What was two dollars with a prospect of business before me? I paid it and was told that I had better call in the afternoon and see the proprietor.
I called again as he requested. The proprietor had been in, but a man whose name was down ahead of mine had taken the place of copyist that had kept my heart up so eagerly, and I should be obliged to wait until a similar situation presented itself, when, of course, I should stand first of all, or take up with something else. I asked about clerkships, but a hasty glance at his book convinced him that everything had been taken up, and that I had better call to-morrow.
Unwilling to lose my money without some attempt at securing a place, I called again the next day. The flashy fellow of the day before was not there, but in his place a black-whiskered man, with keen black eyes, so small and retiring that you would scarcely be aware of his possessing such assistants until he turned them fully upon you. This proved to be the proprietor. To him I made known my wants. He nodded, placed the book before me, and handed me a pen.
I explained my transactions of the day before, but he said that the fee for each day encompassed only the chances for that day; that if I desired to take my chances for this day I must again favor him with my name and two dollars. This I refused to do, unless he would guarantee me a situation similar to the ones he had advertised openings for, at the same time expressing my disgust in warm, if not eloquent language.
But his assurances were so strong that, with his promise to give me a note to a man who was then desirous of a copyist, I again enriched him from my scanty stock of money. Taking the letter, I followed the directions upon it until I was led into the fourth story of a building on Nassau street. I found a man seated at a desk, whose voice and general manner was strongly like the flashy individual whom I had met at the 'agency' the day before. But his whole exterior was changed, and as he seemed to be very busy over some writing, I did not have a good chance to verify my suspicions.
He did not wish a copyist, but his friend Brown did, and was willing to pay handsomely for such services. Unfortunately, however, Brown had been called out of town on some important business, and would not be in until the next day; but if I would have the kindness to leave my address, there was no doubt but he would send for me there at once. I wrote my address, but told him that I would call myself.
While I was allowing him to bow me out, I made some inquiries relative to the responsibility of the 'agency,' and he gave it an unqualified recommendation, speaking in such high terms of Mr. Bucker, the proprietor, that I almost repented the few hard feelings I had indulged in toward him. If Mr. Bucker enjoyed the confidence of the leading merchants, he certainly was a man for me to trust.
I called the next day, and Mr. Brown was poising his feet upon his desk, smoking, and soothing his heart in the columns of a newspaper. I mentioned my name and business. He looked up, and in reply to my question as to whether or not he was Mr. Brown who desired a copyist, he said that he had the honor of being a Mr. Brown, but I must be laboring under some misapprehension, if I supposed that he was in want of a copyist. The Brown to whom I alluded, in all probability, had gone to New Jersey, and owing to sundry unsettled accounts he would not be likely to return so suddenly as he had departed. I explained my position, but he disclaimed all knowledge of the affair, and would give me no satisfaction whatever. I went back to the 'agency,' but on inquiry I found that Mr. Bucker had sold out, and another swindler had taken up the business of robbing the unwary poor.
I made my case known to the police, but a shrug of the shoulders was all the consolation I received. Such swindlers do exist, they say, but owing to the artful manner in which they conduct their business, it is next to impossible to convict them.
"My object in sending you this for publication is to warn others. I have since learned that the majority of these 'agencies' are established on the same principle, and that not one in a hundred who apply and pay their money ever receive a situation; that the merchants and those whom they profess to represent have no faith and no connection with them whatever."
One of the most barefaced swindles ever practiced in New York has now almost gone out of existence. It is called the "patent safe game," and was much practiced during the late war, as many of our soldiers can testify. It was carried on principally in the neighborhood of the Hudson River Depot, and the complaints of the victims, to the police, were loud and numerous. The mode of operation was as follows:
A stranger in the city would be accosted by a well-dressed individual, who would immediately begin a careless, friendly conversation. If the overtures of this individual are not repulsed in the first instance, he is soon joined by his accomplice, who professes to be a stranger to swindler number one.
The accomplice has in his possession a small brass ball or sphere, which he says is the model of a patent safe, much used by merchants in China and India. He is trying to introduce it in this country, and would like to show the gentleman his model. This brass ball is, to all appearance, solid, but to the initiated it is soon made hollow, by pressing on a certain inner circle, when the centre of the ball, which is in the shape of a small cone, drops out. The bottom of the cone may be unscrewed, when a little chamber is revealed, in which is a long piece of white paper, carefully folded and secreted. The other end of the cone, the top of it, can be unscrewed, and a second chamber is revealed, in which is a second piece of paper, exactly like the first.
Swindler number one takes the ball, examines it, and declares that it must be solid. The accomplice then presses the spring, and the centre drops out. He then unscrews one of the chambers, and reveals the paper to the admiring stranger and swindler number one. The accomplice's attention is here called away for a moment, and swindler number one, quietly winking at the stranger, abstracts the paper from the chamber, screws the lid on, and replaces the centre in the ball. Handing it back to the accomplice, he whispers to the stranger that he is about to win some money. He then bets the accomplice a sum which he thinks proportioned to the means of the stranger, that there is no paper in the ball. The bet is promptly taken by the accomplice. Swindler number one finds that he has no money, and asks the stranger to lend him the amount, offering to divide the winning with him. The stranger, who has seen the paper abstracted from the ball, is sure his new-found friend will win, and not being averse to making a little money on the spot, produces the desired amount, and hands it to his friend. The accomplice then opens the second chamber, reveals the duplicate piece of paper, and claims the stakes. The stranger loses his money, and is taught a useful lesson. He may apply to the police, if he wishes to do so, but the probabilities are that he will never see either his "friends" of the safe, or his money, again.
This is a common occurrence in New York, and it is well for strangers to be on their guard against it.
A gentleman was once standing in front of a handsome show window on Broadway, gazing at the wares it contained, when he felt himself tapped on the shoulder. Looking around, he saw a well-dressed man standing by him, holding in his hand a well-filled pocket-book.
"Did you drop this, sir?" asked the stranger. "I have just picked it up at your feet."
"It is not mine," said the gentleman, feeling for his own wallet, and finding it safe.
"Strange," said the man. "It was lying at your feet." As he spoke he opened it, and revealed several heavy rolls of bills. "There must be several thousand dollars here," he said.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked the gentleman.
"I don't know," said the man. "I'm a stranger in the city, and I am compelled to leave town in a couple of hours. This pocket-book will undoubtedly be advertised to-morrow, and as the amount it contains is heavy, the reward will be large. Do you stay in town to-day, sir?" he asked, suddenly.
"Yes," said the gentleman, "I shall be here several days."
"Then I will turn the pocket-book over to you," said the man, after thinking a moment. "You can advertise it. Give me twenty dollars, and take the wallet."
"What do you suppose will be the reward offered?" asked the gentleman.
"Not less than fifty dollars. In that case you will make thirty dollars clear."
"Why don't you keep the money?"
"Sir," said the man, sharply, "do you take me for a thief?"
"Not at all," was the reply. "I meant no offence." The gentleman was thoughtful or a moment, and then drew out his wallet. The fellow, he reasoned, was evidently an honest man. The owner of the wallet would certainly reimburse him for the amount he paid the finder, and might offer more and the contents of the wallet would insure him against loss. He hesitated a moment longer, and then handed the man two ten dollar bills. The stranger gave him the pocketbook, and after a few words more, walked off.
At the first opportunity, the gentleman examined the notes in the wallet carefully. They were all of the denomination of ten dollars, and amounted in all to five thousand dollars,but were each and every one counterfeits of the very grossest character. He had paid twenty dollars for a lot of worthless trash, and the game was now plain to him.
This method of swindling is still very popular with the rogues of the city.
The headquarters of this game are in the neighborhood of the City Hall and Printing-house Square.
"The 'little joker' is a very simple trick, and yet, from its very simplicity, all the more successful in entrapping the unwary. The apparatus is (occasionally) a small stand, three brass thimbles and a little ball, resembling, in size and appearance, a green pea. Often the former is dispensed with, and the crown of a hat or the knees used instead. The 'rigger,' in the mostnonchalantmanner imaginable, places the ball apparently under one of the thimbles, in plain view of the spectators, and offers to bet any sum that 'it isn't there.' Our friend from the country who is looking on, an interested spectator—is astonished at such a proposition, and looks upon the individual making it as little better than a fool; for didn't he see the ball placed under the thimble, and therefore must it not be there still? His idea on this point is soon confirmed—a bystander takes up the bet, the thimble is raised, and there sure enough is the ball—just whereheknew it was!
"Again the ball is covered, and once more the bet is offered. Eager to prove his sagacity, our friend produces a 'V' or 'X spot' and covers the sharper's money. The thimble is raised, a moment of expectation, a single glance, andthe ball is gone! A shout of laughter from the swindler and his confederates standing around, announces the fact that the gentleman from the rural districts has been 'sold.' Pocketing, not his money, but his loss, the victim walks away disconsolate, painfully conscious that he has been 'done,' not only out of his cash, but has had the wool pulled over his eyes in a (to him) most incomprehensible manner."
The country newspapers are filled with advertisements of cheap sewing machines. From one to ten dollars is the price asked. The men who insert these advertisements are amongst the most unprincipled swindlers in New York. The machines they offer for sale are worthless.
A lady living in a neighboring State once sent five dollars to one of these fellows for his machine, and received in return a flimsy little instrument, so small that she could put it in her pocket. The needle could not be used at all, and after turning the handle a few times the cranks and wheels became bent, and twisted into one confused and useless mass. The machine was not worth twenty-five cents.
A fellow, some time ago, advertised a machine for fifty cents, and proclaimed it to the world as "the most perfect ever invented." It was simply a brass instrument in the shape of a fly, and the only use to which it could be put was to fasten work to a table. It was so flimsy that it did not last more than two or three days in this way.
Almost every reader of this book has seen in some newspaper the advertisements of the various "Pocket Time-Keepers," manufactured and offered for sale in this city. The price is usually one dollar. The article is merely apasteboard sun-dial. The purchaser can make little or no use of it, and is swindled out of his money.
The day of mock auctions has gone by, but there are still one or two of these establishments lingering in the city. These are managed in various ways.
At some of these establishments a lot of pencil cases, watches, or other goods, is offered for-sale. The lot generally contains a dozen or a gross of articles. Bids are started by the "decoys" of the proprietor, who are scattered through the crowd, and strangers are thus induced to make offers for them. Each man supposes he is bidding for a single lot, and is greatly astonished to find the whole lot knocked down to him. He is told he must take the entire lot, that his bid was for all. Some are weak enough to comply with the demand, but others resist it.
Admiral Farragut, during the war, made a bid for a penknife at one of these places, and was astonished at being told he must take the whole gross of the article. The old hero was not to be caught in this way, however, and he quietly called in a policeman, and gave the auctioneer in charge for attempting to swindle him.
[Illustration: A Mock Auction—Kicked Out After Being Fleeced.]
A well-known Broadway auctioneer was brought before the Mayor, some time ago, on the following complaint. A gentleman, who appeared against the auctioneer, stated that he had attended his last sale. The auctioneer put up a box containing twelve silver pencil-cases, and the gentleman, supposing from his manner and language, that he was selling them fairly, bid two dollars and fifty cents for the lot. To his surprise, he was told that he had bid two dollars and fifty cents foreachpencil-case, and that he must pay thirty dollars for the whole lot. The money had been paid and the auctioneer refused to return it, insisting that the gentleman should take one pencil-case or nothing. The Mayor compelled the scamp to refund the money, and warned him that he would revoke his license if a similar complaint were again made against him.
In some of these establishments, a stranger who attempts to remonstrate against the swindle fares badly. He is hustled out by the confederates of the proprietor, and if he attempts to defend himself, is handed over to the police on a charge of attempting to create a disturbance.
Other establishments sell watches and cheap jewelry. A really good article is put up, and passed around through the crowd as a sample. It draws bids rapidly, and is knocked down to the highest bidder. It has by this time been handed back to the auctioneer, and when the purchaser demands it, he is given some worthless article, which the dealer and his assistants swear was the one exhibited to the crowd. Remonstrances are useless. The bogus article must be taken or the money lost, unless the victim calls in the police. The city authorities have recently stationed a policeman at the door of one of these establishments, to warn strangers of its true character.
A friend of the writer—a "verdant countryman," too—once attended one of these auctions. A magnificent hunting-case watch was put up, and knocked down to John, as we shall call him, at the low price of ten dollars. As the announcement of the sale was made, John, who had his money in his hand, stepped briskly to the desk.
"Will you let me see that watch a minute?" he asked.
"Certainly, sir," said the auctioneer, handing him the watch.
"That's a magnificent watch," said John, admiringly, "and I think I got it pretty cheap!"
"Yes," replied the man, "that's the cheapest watch I ever sold."
"Well," said John, putting the watch in his pocket, and laying his ten dollars on the desk, "I'm very well satisfied with my bargain."
The auctioneer, alarmed for the repeater, which was his own, exclaimed quickly,
"We generally give a case with our watches, sir; let us fit one on that."
"No," said John, quietly, as he turned away, "I'm satisfied with the watch—I don't want a case!"
He walked leisurely away, but the auctioneer sprang after him.
"That watch is not for sale," said the man, angrily.
"It's bought and paid for," said John, coolly, buttoning his coat across his breast.
"I don't want your money, I want my watch!" shouted the man.
"It was a fair sale!" said John. "Gentlemen," he exclaimed, turning to the crowd, "I appeal to you. Was not it a fair sale?"
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Keep the watch!" cried the spectators, delighted that, for once, the sharper had met his match.
[Illustration: How a Countryman "Bought a Watch."]
A policeman now approached, and John, stating the circumstances of the case to him, placed himself under his protection. The officer and the crowd accompanied him to his hotel, which he reached in safety. He left for home the next morning, taking his prize with him, and to this day boasts that he was "rather too much for New York, if he was from the country!"
In a side-room of the main hall of the Central Police Headquarters, on the second story, in Mulberry street, is a desk at which sits an old rosy-cheeked, white-headed police officer, named McWaters. McWaters is famous in New York. He is the theatrical critic of the Police Department. His opinions on music and the drama are of weighty authority among members of the force, and, like most critics, he is dogmatic and forcible.
But, McWaters is at present known to fame as being the officer detailed, by Inspector George Dilks, to take charge of a department organized in November, 1867, to supply a great want, and which is now in successful operation. This department is known as the "Bureau for the Recovery of Lost Persons." Officer McWaters was formerly in the City Hall Precinct, under Captains Thorne and Brackett, and is very well acquainted with the city, so his services have been made available in this new bureau.
The manner of investigation in regard to a missing relative or friend, is as follows: As soon as a person disappears from home, the nearest relative, on learning of the missing person, goes to police headquarters, and makes application to the 'Missing Bureau' for information. The age, height, build—whiskers, if any—color of eyes, dress, hair, the place where last seen—the habits and disposition of the person?—are given to the inspectors, and officer McWaters makes proper entries on his register, which he keeps for that purpose, of all these facts. The personal description of the missing person is compared with the returns made by the Morgue every twenty-four hours to the police inspectors. Should the description answer to the person and clothing of any person found at the Morgue, word is at once sent to the relatives of the joyful news. Besides this, another very necessary precaution is taken to find the person or persons missing. Cards are printed, five or six hundred in number, and sent to all the police officers on special duty in the different metropolitan precincts, with instructions to the captains to have his men make active and energetic search for the person.
Over seven hundred people have been reported as missing to police headquarters during the past twelve months. Of this number, a majority have been found, it is believed, as no record can be kept of those who are not reported when found, by their relatives or friends, to headquarters. Occasionally, a person who reports some one missing, belonging to them, will give all the details about him—but, if found, will fail to notify the authorities, from a sense of shame, where domestic difficulties have occurred in families, or from laziness, or a sense of forgetfulness. Thus, all track is lost of those who have been found, unknown to the police, and accurate statistics are baffled in the matter of inquiry.
The manner in which missing men are advertised is as follows. A card, of which the following are fair examples, is circulated among the police:
OFFICE OF THE SUPERINTENDENT OFMETROPOLITAN POLICE, 300 MULBERRY STREETNEW YORK,January11,1868.
MISSING.—Since Thursday evening last—Mary Agnes Walsh; twenty-three years of age, residing at 281-1/2 Elizabeth street, five feet high, medium size, slim built, dark complexion, dark brown hair, dark eyes, had on a black alpaca dress, black plush coat (or cloak), black velvet hat. It is supposed she is wandering about the city in a temporary state of insanity, as she has just returned from the Lunatic Asylum, where she has been temporarily confined for the last three weeks. Any information of the above to be sent to her brother, Andrew Walsh, 2811/2 Elizabeth street, or to Inspector Dilks, 300 Mulberry street.
MISSING.—Morton D. Gifford, about twenty-five years of age, light hazel eyes, brown hair, full beard and moustache same color, height five feet six and three quarter inches, has lost the two first joints off the middle fingers of right hand. Had on a light brown cloth suit bound with black, the vest cut without a collar, a black cloth overcoat made sack fashion, with black velvet buttons. Was last seen on board the steamer City of Norfolk, running between Norfolk and Crisfield, in connection with the Crisfield, Wilmington, and Philadelphia Railroad, Annamesic line, on the 3d of February, 1868. Had with him a black leather satchel, containing a full suit of black clothes, hat, linen, etc. Was a soldier in the Union army, and has recently been in business in Plymouth, North Carolina. Any person having any information regarding him will please communicate with Inspector Dilks, 300 Mulberry street, New York.
MISSING—Since Thursday, November 14—John F. McCormack; when last seen he was on board the steam-tug Yankee, at the foot of Charlton street; age twenty-four years, eyes and hair dark brown, height five feet four inches, heavy eyebrows. He was dressed in a brown sack coat and brown vest, black pants, flat-crowned black hat. Any person knowing his whereabouts, or having seen him since the above date, will please call at the residence of his uncle, Robert McCormack, No. 12 Talman street, Brooklyn, or on Inspector Dilks, police headquarters, 300 Mulberry street. November 30, 1867.
FIFTY DOLLARS REWARD.—Missing from Bay street, Stapleton, Staten Island, since Wednesday, November 25, 1868, Willy Hard grove, a boy eight years of age, medium size, dark hair, dark, clear complexion, blue eyes; has a recent scar on his cheek, made by the scratch of a pin; dressed in a dark striped jacket and pants; the pants button on the jacket with light bone buttons; old, strong boots, no hat. He is rather an attractive boy and very familiar with strangers. It is feared he has been abducted, from the fact of his musical abilities. He can sing in a good tenor voice any tune he may hear once played, but can't speak plain. The above reward will be paid by his father, Terence M. Hardgrove, Stapleton, for such information as will lead to his recovery. Information may be sent to Inspector Dilks, police headquarters, 300 Mulberry street.
MISSING.—Annie Hearn left her home on Monday last. She is ten years of age, dark blue eyes, black hair cut short, has a slight scar on her left temple. Was dressed in a dark alpaca frock, black woollen sontag with white border, black velvet hat, no-trimming, high laced boots, striped stockings. Any information relative to her will be gratefully received by Richard Burk, 217 Madison street, or Inspector Dilks, 300 Mulberry street.
LEFT HER HOME, at Hyde Park, Scranton City, Pa., on Monday June 14, Sarah Hannaghan, aged fifteen, tall for her age, short brown hair, light eyes and fair complexion. Had on a tan-colored dress, light cape, drab hat, trimmed with ribbon of the same color. Had with her a dress with a yellow stripe, made short. Information to be sent to Inspector Dilks, 300 Mulberry street, New York, or to James Hannaghan, 152 Leonard street.
TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS REWARD, will be paid for information that will lead to the arrest or recovery of Henrietta Voss, aged sixteen years. She left Seacusus, Hudson county, New Jersey, Tuesday, July 21, about 7 A. M. She is tall, slim built, and a little stooped; brown hair, blue eyes, long thin pale face. Dressed in a full suit of black. The gratitude of a father, who desires to save his daughter, will be added to the above reward. JOHN Voss.
TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS REWARD.—Missing, an insane man, named Frederick Liebrich, native of Germany, speaks English, German, and French. Supposed to lodge at night in the police station houses about the lower part of the city, is very stupid looking, and clothed in rags. Was last seen in Washington market, about the middle of last November. He is about thirty-eight years of age, eyes and hair black, large regular features, and very dark complexion, about five feet ten inches high, stout built, straight and well made. The above reward will be paid for his recovery, or direct evidence of his death; by Frederick Cummick, 82 Washington street, Brooklyn. Information to be sent to Inspector Dilks, police headquarters, 300 Mulberry street.
"Hundreds of 'Lost Children' bear testimony to the carelessness of mothers and nurses who are more intent on other business, when their charges stray off to be found afterwards in out of the way places by stray policemen. Quite often a pedestrian will notice, on going along one of our side streets, a young child, its eyes bubbling over with tears, and red from irritation and inflammation, who has strayed from its parents' residence. Sometimes it will have a stick of candy in its infantile fists, or else an apple, or a slice of bread, butter, and molasses to console it in its wanderings. It is very seldom, however, that these children do not find their way back to their parents, unless that there is foul play, as in such instances where a child may be kidnapped by people who are childless, or through their agency, for the purpose of adoption in barren families. The practice of baby-farming has not as yet attained, in America, the height that it has reached in England, and therefore the lives of children are not yet so endangered as they are across the water. It is calculated that at least one thousand children are missing every year in this city, but they are nearly all returned before the close of the day on which they are first missed."
"If the thousand and one noisome crannies, nooks, and dens of this great city could be exposed to view, day after day, the bodies of many a missing man and woman might be found festering and rotting, or their bones bleaching for want of decent burial. Where do the bodies come from that are fished up, bloated and disfigured, night after night, by the harbor police, in haunts of the docks and from the slime of the Hudson? It is fearful to think of men influenced by liquor, who, with their gold watches, pocket-books, and other valuables exposed in the most foolish manner, are to be seen, night after night, in the dens and hells of this great, sinful city. Many of these men are from far off country villages and happy homes, and when thrown into our streets at night under the flare of the gas lamps, and among crowds of showily dressed women, whose feet are ever downward into the abyss, it becomes almost impossible for them to resist the thousand and one meretricious temptations that are placed before them."
"Instances may be related of how men disappear and are never heard of to be recognized. A well-to-do person from Ohio, who had never visited New York before, pays a visit to this city, and, stopping at a down- town hotel, sallies out in the evening in search of what he has been taught by his limited course of reading to call 'adventures.' He believes, in his Ohio simplicity, that he will meet with a beautiful and rich young lady in New York who, struck with his rural graces and charms, will at once accept his hand and farm. Well, he takes a look at the 'Black Crook,' or 'White Fawn,' or 'Genevieve de Brabant,' and returning late to his down-town hotel is struck by the beauty and grace of a female form that glides before him on his way down town. Pretty soon she makes a signal to him that cannot be mistaken, and our Ohio friend, rather astonished at the freedom of the aristocratic and well- bred ladies of the metropolis, but nothing loth, hastens to her side, and accompanies her to her richly voluptuous mansion in Bleecker, Green, Mercer, or Crosby streets. In the watches of the night he awakens to find the aristocratic lady fastened on his throat, and a male friend of hers, with a villainous countenance, poising a knife for a plunge in his neck. The work is done quickly, a barrel well packed, or a furniture chest, placed in a carriage at night, can be taken up the Hudson River road and there dropped in the river, and after a day or so the head of another dead man will be found eddying and floating around the rolling piers near the Battery, his face a pulp, and no longer recognizable. The sun shines down on the plashing water, but the eyes are sightless, and never another sun can dim their brilliancy or splendor. It is only another missing man without watch, pocket-book, or money on his person."
Another missing instance. A beautiful maiden, born in a village on the Sound, where the waters of that inland sea beat and play around the sandy pebbles of a land-locked inlet, is reared in innocence and virtue until she reaches her seventeenth year. She is as lovely as the dawn, and her life, peaceful and happy, with no greater excitement than the Sunday prayer-meeting, has never been tainted by the novelty of desire. At seventeen, she visits New York for the first eventful time in her life. She is dazzled with its theatres, its balls, its Central Park, the Broadway confuses and intoxicates her, but opera has divine charms for her musical ear, and she is escorted night after night by a man with a pleasing face and a ready tongue. She is yet pure as the undriven snow. One night she takes a midnight sleigh ride on the road, and they stop at a fashionable-looking restaurant in Harlem Lane or on the road. She is persuaded to take a glass of champagne. She is finally persuaded to drink an entire bottle of champagne. That night the world is torn from under her feet. She has tasted of the apples of death. She returns to her peaceful home by the silken waves of the Sound a dishonored woman. To hide her shame she returns to New York, but her destroyer has gone—she knows not whither. Then the struggle begins for existence and bread. She is a seamstress, a dry-goods clerk, but her shame finds her out when an infant is born to her, unnamed. One night, hungry, and torn with the struggle of a lost hope, she rushes into the streets and seeks the river. On a lone pier she seeks refuge from her 'lost life.' The night-watchman, anxious about the cotton and rosin confided to his charge, does not hear the cry of 'Mother' from a despairing girl, or the plunge into the gloomy, silent river below. She is not found for days after, and then her once fair face is gnawed threadbare with the incisors of crabs, and the once white neck, rounded as a pillar of glory, is a mere greenish mass of festering corruption She is not recognized, and thus fills the page devoted to missing people. [Footnote: New York World.]
Our task is done. We have told, as far as we are capable of telling, the secrets of this great and growing city. Our purpose has been two- fold, to satisfy a reasonable curiosity on the part of those who never have seen, and probably never will see New York, and to warn those who design visiting the city, of the dangers and temptations which await them here. We warn them earnestly to confine their visits to the numerous harmless and innocent attractions of the Metropolis, and to shun those other, darker quarters of the city, which are but so many gateways to the paths that lead down to ruin and death.
And How they Lived, Fought and Died for the Union,
Comprising Narratives of Personal Adventure, ThrillingIncidents, Daring Exploits, Heroic Deeds, WonderfulEscapes, Life in the Camp, Field and Hospital,Adventures of Spies and Scouts. Together withthe songs, Ballads, Anecdotes, and HumorousIncidents of the War.
Embellished with over 100 Fine Portraits and Engravings.
* * * * *
There is a certain portion of the War that will never go into the regular histories, nor be embodied in romance or poetry, which is a very real part of it, and will, if preserved, convey to succeeding generations a better idea of the spirit of the conflict than many dry reports or careful narratives of events; and this part may be called the Gossip, the Fun, the Pathos of the War. This illustrates the character of the leaders, the humor of the soldiers, the devotion of women, the bravery of men, the pluck of our heroes, the romance and hardships of the service.
From the beginning of the war the author has been engaged in collecting all the anecdotes connected with or illustrative of it, and has grouped and classified them under appropriate heads, and in a very attractive form.
Prominent among the sparkling contents of this work, and which give to its four departments their peculiar attractiveness, may be named:— Striking Instances of loyalty to the flag, and valor in its defence; Bravery on the Battle-Field and Quarter-Deck; Examples of Youthful Courage in the storm of Combat; Infantry, Artillery and Cavalry in line of action—the tramp and onset; extraordinary fortitude under suffering; undaunted heroism in death; the roll of fame and story. Reminiscences of victory and disaster of Camp Picket, Spy, Scout, Bivouac and Siege, with feats of Daring, Bold and Brilliant Marches, Remarkable Cases of Sharp-Shooting, Hand-to-Hand Encounters, Startling Surprises, Ingenious Strategy, Celebrated Tactics, Wonderful Escapes, Comical and Ludicrous Adventures on Land and Sea; Wit, Drollery and Repartee, Famous Words and Deeds of Women, Sanitary and Hospital Scenes, Prison Experiences, Partings and Re-unions, Last Words of the Dying, with affecting illustrations of the home affections and mementoes of the tender passion; final scenes and events in the great Drama, and all those momentous hours, acts and movements, the memory of which will live in letters of blood before the eyes, and burn like fire in the hearts of those who participated in them. These, sifted like gold, are here presented in all their attractions. Thus the rank and file, as well as the superior officers, both North and South, are made illustrious in these pages by whatever of valor, skill or achievement personally distinguished them.
Amusement as well as instruction may be found in every page, as graphic detail, brilliant wit and authentic history are skilfully interwoven in this work of literary art.
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