CHAPTER XXIX

View from the Bowling Green in the Revolution, from an Old Print

But outside of New York the war went bravely on. Washington in New Jersey kept up the fight, but the winter came on and his army suffered exceedingly. It had come to be a very small army by this time, for they were poorly fed and ill clothed and seldom had any sort of shelter. Nevertheless, Washington gained many victories in New Jersey and manoeuvred his little army so well that the whole world, hearing of his achievements, was forced to recognize him as a great general.

New York was the head-quarters of the British army in America, and the residence of its chief officers. The city was as thoroughly British as it had before been American, and it was as much as life was worth even to hint of an interest in the American cause.

Early in the next year, 1777, those who had the making of the laws for the new State of New York, met in secret, and chose George Clinton as their first Governor. The other colonies had formed themselves into States, and the new nation grew stronger day by day.

Commissioners were sent to the European courts to ask aid for the United States. Many young French noblemen, thrilled at the idea of fighting for liberty, came to America as volunteers, and by their knowledge of war gave valuable assistance to the American officers. The name of the Marquis de Lafayette stands out prominently as the chief of these volunteers. He was not yet twenty years old, but fitted out a vessel at his own expense and crossed the ocean to offer his services. He asked to be enlisted as a volunteer and to serve without pay, but he was soon appointed a major-general.

When it had come to be July of this year, there was some fighting in the North, for the British General Burgoyne came down from Canada. He intended to meet the army under Howe which was marching northward, and the two armies were to sweep everything before them. Burgoyne defeated the Americans led by General Philip Schuyler, in several battles. Just at this time General Schuyler's command was given to General Gates. Now Gates followed the plans that had been made by Schuyler, with the result that Burgoyne and his entire force of 6,000 men surrendered at Saratoga. This settled one branch of the British army. The other branch, under General Howe, took possession of Philadelphia, but the defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga put an end to their hopes of sweeping everything before them.

In the last month of the year, Washington and his army took up winter quarters at Valley Forge so as to keep a close watch upon the British in Philadelphia.

The winter passed, and when the spring came the British army moved from Philadelphia to New York City, but not without great trouble, for Washington's army fought them every step of the way across New Jersey.

The city was now quite different from the flourishing town it had been before the war. Held possession of by the British, it was a military camp. No improvements were made. Many of the citizens who were loyal to the American cause had fled. Those who were too poor to leave pretended to favor the British, but as little business could be done, they could find no work, and their condition became worse daily. Thousands of American prisoners were brought here, making it a British prison-house, and every building of any size was a guard-house, every cellar a dungeon.

Old Sugar-House in Liberty Street, the Prison-House of the Revolution

One of the gloomiest of these prisons was an old sugar-house close by the Middle Dutch Church. It was built in the days of Jacob Leisler, with thick stone walls five stories high, pierced with small windows. The ceilings were so low and the windows so small that the air could scarcely find entrance. Underneath was a black and dismal cellar. The pale and shrunken faces of prisoners filled the openings at the windows by day and by night, seeking a breath of air. They were so jammed together that there was by no means room at the windows for all. So these wretched men divided themselves into groups, each group crowding close to the windows for ten minutes, then giving place to another group. They slept on straw that was never changed, and the food given them was scarcely enough to keep them alive. Those who suffered this living death might have been free at any time had they been willing to go over to the British, but few of the patriots, even in this dread hour, deserted their cause. To while away the hours of their captivity, they carved their names upon the walls with rusty nails. Fevers raged constantly and they died by scores, leaving their half-finished initials on the walls as their only relics. Their bodies were thrown out of doors, and every morning gathered up in carts and carried to the outskirts of the city to be buried in a trench without ceremony.

This was only one of a dozen such prison-houses. There was one other that, if anything, was worse. It was the New Jail, and it still stands in City Hall Park and is now the Hall of Records. During the war it was known as The Provost, because it was the head quarters of a provost-marshal named Cunningham. It was his custom at the conclusion of his drunken revels to parade his weak, ill, half-fed prisoners before his guests, as fine specimens of the rebel army. It is said of him, too, that he poisoned those who died too slowly of cold and starvation, and then went right on drawing money to feed them. This gave rise to the saying that he starved the living and fed the dead. He took a great delight in being as cruel and merciless as he could, and very often boasted that he had caused the death of more rebels than had been killed by all of the King's forces.

Many American sailors were also captured (for the Revolution was fought on the sea as well as on land) and all these were placed aboard prison-ships—useless hulks, worn-out freight-boats, and abandoned men-of-war. For a time these hulks were anchored close by the Battery, but afterward they were taken to the Brooklyn shore. There was misery and suffering on all of them, but the worst was called the "Jersey," where captives were crowded into the hold, the sick and the well, poorly fed and scarcely clothed, so many of them as hardly to permit space to lie down, watched over by a guard of merciless soldiers. Disease in a dozen forms was always present, and every morning the living were forced to carry out those who had died over night.

During this year 1778, and for several years after, the war was carried on for the most part in the South, in Georgia and South Carolina, while the British soldiers in the city made trips into the surrounding country and laid it waste. Washington and his army in New Jersey could do little more than watch.

In the year 1780 the American cause came very near receiving a serious check, when an officer high in rank turned traitor. This man was Benedict Arnold, and had been a vigorous fighter. But now he bargained with the British to turn over to them West Point, where he was chief in command. Major John André, a brilliant young officer under the British General Clinton, was sent to make the final arrangements. André was returning to New York when he was captured with the plans of West Point concealed in his boots. He was hanged as a spy, and Arnold, escaping to the British in New York, fought with them, despised by the Americans and mistrusted by the English; for a traitor can never be truly liked or respected even by those who benefit by his treachery.

The War of the Revolution went on until the fall of the year 1781, when General Washington made a sudden move that drew his men away from the vicinity of New York before the British army could foresee it. Then he hurried to the South. There, at Yorktown, in Virginia, the combined American army hemmed in, and after a battle forced to surrender, Lord Cornwallis, the British commander in the South, and all his men.

This victory was so great that it really ended the war. Great Britain gave up the struggle, and a treaty of peace was signed.

And now you will see how the British army left the city of New York.

On a crisp, cold day, late in the fall, a tall, mild-faced man on a spirited horse passed down the Bowery Road, followed by a long train of soldiers whose shabby clothes and worn faces told of days of trial and hardship. This was General George Washington with a portion of the Continental army. They were entering New York on this same day when the British troops were leaving it.

But although the British were leaving under the terms of the treaty of peace, and had gone on board ships that were to take them to England, there were many who were filled with rage at this enforced departure. At the fort by the river-side they had knocked the cleatsoffthe flag-pole, and had greased the pole so that no one could climb it to put up the United States flag and thus flaunt it in the face of the departing troops. But the soldiers of Washington who reached the fort just as the last British company was leaving, set to work with hammer and saw. They made new cleats for the pole. Then a young sailor—his name was John Van Arsdale—filling his pockets with the cleats and nailing them above him as he climbed the pole step by step, was able to put the flag in position. And as it floated to the breeze a salute of thirteen guns sounded while the British troops were still within hearing.

So now the city of New York, which for seven years the British had occupied, was again in possession of the citizens.

General Washington only remained here a few days. He made his head-quarters in Fraunces's Tavern, in Broad Street, and there at noon on December 4th, his officers assembled to hear his words of farewell. It was an affectionate parting of men who had suffered danger and privations together. There were tears in Washington's eyes.

North Side of Wall Street East of William Street, Taken a Few Years after the Revolutionary War

"With a heart full of love and gratitude," said he, "I now take my leave of you, and most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable."

It was not a time for much talking, and Washington was soon gone, leaving real sorrow behind him. Within a few weeks he had resigned his commission as commander-in-chief, and had retired as a private citizen to his home at Mount Vernon.

The city of New York was in quite a deplorable state. The wide tract swept by the fire of 1776 still lay in blackened ruins. No effort had been made to rebuild except where temporary wooden huts had been set up by the soldiers. The churches, all of which had been used for one purpose or another, were dismantled, blackened, and marred. There was scarcely a house in all the little town that had not been ill-used by the soldiers. Fences were down, and the streets were filled with rubbish. It was a city stricken with premature decay. Business life was dead, and would have to be begun all over again. The citizens were divided against themselves. Feuds existed everywhere. Patriots who had fled and had now come back felt a deep bitterness against those who had adopted the royal cause for the purpose of keeping possession of their property. These, however, complained just as bitterly because now their homes were taken from them in the adjustment.

King's College, of which you have been told, had been closed all during the war, and had been used as a hospital. It was opened now, but was called Columbia College, as the King no longer had any claims on the city or its institutions.

During the next few years business slowly revived, and day by day the city was rebuilt, growing into something like its old self.

Some little distance above the Common was the City Hospital. There came rumors at this time that the bodies of the dead were being stolen from the graveyards and used by the students for dissecting purposes. There was no truth in these stories, yet many persons became alarmed. They gathered, broke into the hospital and destroyed everything of value. The doctors fled to the jail on the Common for protection. The mob determined to seize them, and tore down the fences about the jail. Then the Mayor gathered a body of citizens to oppose the mob. As night came on, the rioters, becoming more and more destructive, were fired upon and five were killed. After this they scampered away, the trouble was over, and that was the last of the Doctors' Mob.

Rebuilding a city and forming a new nation is such a great task that you can readily believe it was not accomplished without some difficulty. The colonies were free from the rule of the English King, but it was necessary for them to learn to govern themselves.

Each of the new States now had its own government. It was thought by many that there should be some powerful central government to control all the States. So after a great deal of deliberation a convention was held in Philadelphia over which George Washington presided. After four months of hard work the present Constitution of the United States was given to each State to be approved.

There was strong need for this step to be taken, but there were a great many who did not want it, because they thought it would give the President as much power as a king, and as they had gone to some cost to rid themselves of a king, they did not wish another. Those who wanted a central government were called Federalists. Those who did not want it were called Anti-Federalists.

In New York there was one man who did everything that man could do to convince others that the central government was the best thing for the good of the new nation. His name was Alexander Hamilton. He was a young man who had been, ever since he was a boy, a friend of George Washington; who had lived in Washington's family and had fought as an officer side by side with Washington, and was a man of much power and deep learning.

This Constitution of the United States had been approved by nine of the States, when, in June, 1788, a convention was held to determine whether New York was to approve it or not. At this convention Alexander Hamilton spoke eloquently, in an effort to have the Constitution approved.

The convention was still meeting in July, having come to no decision, when the followers of Hamilton, the Federalists, had a great parade through the streets of New York. It was the first big parade in the city, and the grandest spectacle that had ever been seen in America up to this time.

Celebration of the Adoption of the Constitution

The most imposing part of it was a great wooden ship on wheels, made to represent the Ship of State, and called the "Federal Ship Hamilton." The parade was a mile and a half long and there were five thousand men in it. It passed along the streets of the city, past the fort, and on up Broadway over the tree-covered hill above the Common, and on to the Bayard Farm beyond the Collect Pond. There a halt was made and the thousands of people sat down on the grass to a dinner.

Three days after this the convention approved of the Constitution for the State of New York. And so the majority of the States having agreed to it, in the next year George Washington was chosen as the first President of the United States, and the city of New York was selected as the temporary seat of the general government.

Now that New York was the seat of the national government, the old City Hall in Wall Street was made larger and fitted up in grand style and was called Federal Hall.

In April George Washington came to this city from his home at Mount Vernon. Every step of his way, by carriage and on horseback, was a march of triumph. The people in towns and villages and countryside greeted him with shouts and signs of affection. But it was in New York that the greatest welcome was given him.

The city had taken on a most picturesque appearance. Every house was decorated with colors, and when Washington landed from a barge at the foot of Wall Street, he walked up a stairway strewn with flowers. The streets were so thronged that way could scarcely be made. Not only were the streets filled, but every window and every house-top. The people waited for hours, and when Washington arrived a wild hubbub commenced that kept up all the day long.

View of Federal Hall and Part of Broad Street, 1796

Washington was escorted to the house that had been prepared for him, a little way out of town at the top of a hill.

If in the days that you read this you walk along Pearl Street until you come to the East River bridge at Franklin Square, a part of the city crowded with tenements and factories, you will stand close by where the house was. On the abutment of the bridge you will find a tablet that has been riveted to the stone, so that all who pass may know that Washington once lived there. The house was built by Walter Franklin, a rich merchant, and was therefore called the Franklin House. The square, however, does not take its name from this man, but from the renowned Benjamin Franklin.

Very soon, on a bright, sunshiny day, Washington stood on the balcony of Federal Hall, surrounded by the members of the Senate and the House of Representatives, with the citizens thronging every inch of the nearby streets. And there he took the oath of office, and having taken it the cry was raised, "Long Live George Washington, First President of the United States," a cry that was echoed from street to street, and went on echoing out into the country beyond.

The John Street Theatre, 1781

The life of the First President was a simple and a busy one. He rose at four o'clock each morning and went to bed at nine in the evening. Many hours a day he worked at matters of state, receiving all who called, so that there was quite a stream of people going to and from the Franklin House at all times. Sometimes during the day he took a long drive with Mrs. Washington, which he called the "Fourteen Miles 'round," going up one side of the island above the city and coming down the other. Sometimes of an evening he attended a performance at the little John Street Theatre. Always on Sunday he and all his family went to St. Paul's Chapel. And the pew in which they sat you can sit in if you go to that old chapel, for it has been preserved all these years.

By this time the fort by the Bowling Green, which had stood since the days of the Dutch, was torn down to make room for a mansion that was to be called the Government House and be occupied by the President.

The mansion was built, but you shall see presently why no President ever occupied it.

There was formed just about this time, in fact the very month after Washington's inauguration, an organization which was called the Tammany Society. And out of this society grew the great political body—Tammany Hall. The Tammany Society took its name from a celebrated Indian chief, and at first had as its central purpose the effort to keep a love of country strong in every heart. The best men in the city belonged to the Tammany Society, which held meetings and transacted business under all sorts of odd and peculiar forms. It divided the seasons of the year into the Season of Blossoms, the Season of Fruits, the Season of Moons, and the Season of Snows, instead of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. And the head of the order was called the Grand Sachem or Chief.

New York now became a very active and a very brilliant city indeed, and all manner of improvements were made. The first sidewalks were laid along Broadway, just above St. Paul's Chapel. They were pavements of brick, so narrow that two persons could scarcely walk along side by side. Then the high hill crossed by Broadway just above the Common was cut away so that the street stretched away as broad and as straight as you see it to-day. Numbers were put on the houses and streets were cut through the waste lands about the Collect Pond, and the barracks which were built for the British soldiers were torn away as unsightly structures. These barracks were log huts a story high, enclosed by a high wall. The gate at one end, called Tryon's Gate, gave the name to Tryon's Row as it now exists. Trinity Church, which had been in ruins since the fire, was rebuilt, as well as many, many other houses.

Now the fact that the city was the seat of the national government and was the home of Washington had much to do with its improvement. But New York had only been fixed upon as the capital temporarily, and a dozen States were anxious for that honor. Finally, in the second year that Washington was President, it was decided to build a city which should be the seat of the general government, on land given by the States of Maryland and Virginia for that purpose and called the District of Columbia. While the city (which was given the name of Washington) was being built, the seat of government was to be in Philadelphia, and Washington went there to live. A great many of the gay and brilliant company that had been attracted to the capital followed him there, and for a time New York languished in neglect.

It now began to look as though the United States would be drawn into another war with Great Britain. For the French Revolution was in progress and the French people were at war with the English, and thought that the Americans should help them as they had helped the Americans in Revolutionary times. But President Washington and some of the very wise and good people about him thought it best to have nothing to do with it. So a treaty was made between England and the United States, and the French did not get the help they asked.

Some of the citizens of New York, quite a large number of them, were very angry when they heard of this treaty and burned a copy of it on the Bowling Green, with all sorts of threats. But after a time those who had shouted against it changed their minds. They had something more serious to think of nearer home before many years, for the small-pox broke out in the city and thousands upon thousands hurried away to escape the dread disease. All business was at a standstill, and even the churches were closed. When the scourge had spent its force, it was found that more than 2,000 had died of it.

There was one man who took advantage of the small-pox scare to his own profit. This was Aaron Burr. You will remember him as a boy fighting by the side of Montgomery in Canada. He was now a lawyer known for his great skill the country over; a man of education and deep learning. He was the leader of a political party, a party which contended with, fought with, disagreed with at every turn the party of which Alexander Hamilton was one of the chief leaders.

Now there were two banks in the city, both of which were under the control of the party to which Alexander Hamilton belonged. Aaron Burr determined that his party should have a bank, too. The citizens were prejudiced against banks, and did not want a new one. But Burr determined to establish one, and set about it in a most peculiar way. All at once the report got about that the small-pox had been caused by the well-water. This was about all there was to drink in the city, except that which came from a few springs and was said to be very impure indeed. So Aaron Burr and his friends secured a charter for a company that was to supply clear, pure water. This pleased the citizens very much. But there was a clause in the charter to the effect that as all the money might not be needed for the bringing of water into the city, that which remained could be used foranypurpose the company saw fit. Only those in the secret understood that the money was to be used to start a bank. So the company dug deep wells not far from the Collect Pond, and pumped water from them into a reservoir which was built close by the Common on Chambers Street, and then sent it through the city by means of curious wooden pipes. This water was really just as impure as that which had before been taken from the wells, and it was not long before the new water-works were known to be a failure. Then the company gave all their attention to the bank, which had in the meanwhile been started.

Reservoir of Manhattan Water-Works in Chambers Street

This company of Aaron Burr's was called the Manhattan Company, and their Manhattan Bank has been kept going ever since and is still in existence in a fine large building in Wall Street.

So you see Aaron Burr this time got the better of Alexander Hamilton and his friends.

If you turn the page you will read more of Hamilton and Burr.

The dawn of the nineteenth century saw 60,000 people in the city of New York and the town extending a mile up the island. Above the city were farms and orchards and the country homes of the wealthy. Where Broadway ended there was a patch of country called Lispenard's Meadow, and about this time a canal was cut through it from the Collect Pond to the Hudson River. This was the canal which long years afterward was filled in and gave its name to Canal Street.

The Collect Pond

From time to time there were projects for setting out a handsome park about the shores of the Collect Pond, but the townspeople thought it was too far away from the city. But in a few years the city grew up to the Collect Pond, which was then filled in, and to-day a gloomy prison (The Tombs) is built upon the spot.

One of the new undertakings was the building of a new City Hall, as the old one in Wall Street was no longer large enough. So the present City Hall was begun on what was then the Common, but it was not finished for a good ten years. The front and sides were of white marble, and the rear of cheaper red sandstone, as it was thought that it would be many years before anyone would live far enough uptown to notice the difference. How odd this seems in these days, when the City Hall is quite at the beginning of the city.

Aaron Burr had by this time been elected Vice-President of the United States. But he soon lost the confidence of the people, and when, in the year 1803, he hoped to be made Governor of the State of New York, he was defeated.

The Grange, Kingsbridge Road, the Residence of Alexander Hamilton

Now at this time Alexander Hamilton was still a leader in the party opposed to Aaron Burr, and did everything possible to defeat him. And Burr, angered because of this, and believing that Hamilton had sought to bring dishonor upon him, challenged Hamilton to a duel—the popular way of settling such serious grievances. So Hamilton accepted the challenge and on a morning in the middle of the summer of 1804, just after sunrise, the duel took place on the heights of the shore of New Jersey, just above Weehawken. Hamilton fell at the first fire mortally wounded. The next day he died.

There was great sorrow throughout the entire country, for he was a brave and good man, and had been a leader since the War of the Revolution. All the citizens followed him to his rest in Trinity Churchyard, and in the churchyard to-day you can see his tomb carefully taken care of and decorated, year by year.

After the death of Hamilton the feeling against Burr in the city was bitter indeed, and he soon went away.

A few years later, when a project was formed for establishing a great empire in the southwest and overthrowing the United States, this same Aaron Burr was thought to be concerned in the plot. When, after a trial, he was acquitted, he went to live in Europe. But he returned after a time, and the last years of his life were passed in New York.

There had come to be a great need for schools. There were private schools and there were school-rooms attached to some of the churches, but it was in this year, 1805, that the first steps were taken to have free schools for all.

A kindly man named De Witt Clinton was Mayor of the city, and he, with some other citizens, organized the Free School Society that was to provide an education for every child. The following year the first free school was opened. The society continued in force for forty-eight years, each year the number of its schools increasing, until finally all its property was turned over to the city.

In the days when De Witt Clinton was Mayor the first steam-boat was built to be used on the Hudson River. For many a year there had been men who felt sure that steam could be applied to boats and made to propel them against the wind and the tide. They had tried very hard to build such a boat but none had succeeded. Sometimes the boilers burst. Sometimes the paddle-wheels refused to revolve. For one reason or another the boats were failures.

A man named John Fitch had built a little steam-boat and had tried it on the Collect Pond, where it had steamed around much to the surprise of the good people of the city who went to look at it. But it was considered more as a toy than anything else. Nothing came of the experiment, and the boat itself was neglected after a time and dragged up on the bank beside the lake, where it lay until it rotted away.

Then Robert Livingston, who was chancellor of the city, felt sure he could build a steam-boat that would be of use. As he was a wealthy man he spent a great deal of money trying to make such a boat; and as he was a very learned man he gave much thought to it.

Chancellor Livingston was in France when he met another American, named Robert Fulton, who was an artist and a civil engineer, and who also hoped to build a boat that could be moved by steam. Livingston and Fulton decided that they would together build such a boat.

The Clermont, Fulton's First Steam-Boat

So Fulton came back to New York and with the money given him by Livingston began to build a steam-boat which he called the Clermont—the name of Chancellor Livingston's country home. The citizens laughed a good deal at the idea and called the boat "Fulton's Folly." In August, 1807, the Clermont was finished, and a crowd gathered to see it launched and to laugh at its failure. But the boat moved out into the stream and up the Hudson River, while the people gazed in wonder at the marvellous thing gliding through the water, moved apparently by some more than human force. It went all the way to Albany, and from that day on continued to make trips up and down the river. This was the first successful steam-boat in the world. Soon steam ferry-boats took the place of those which had been driven by horse-power. Quickly, too, after the success of the Clermont, steam navigation went rapidly forward on both sides of the ocean. Fulton made other and much better boats. Other men followed in his footsteps, and the great ocean liners of to-day are one of the results.

It is interesting at this time to read how the streets came to be just where they are. The city was growing more rapidly than ever and the streets and byways met one another at every sort of angle, forming a tangled maze. To remedy this, a commission was formed of several of the prominent citizens to determine just what course the streets should take. Now this commission decided not to interfere with those that existed, but to map out the island above the city and plan for those that were to be. They worked for four years and then submitted, in the year 1811, what they called the City Plan. If you will look at a map, you will see at the lower part of the Island of Manhattan that the streets cross and recross each other in the most bewildering manner. And you will also see that above this jumble the streets and avenues extend through the island in a regular and uniform way. This change was the result of the City Plan.

While the commission was making its plan, there came threatenings of war. Again England was at war with France, and those two countries in fighting one another very often injured the American ships. Besides, the British war-ships had a disagreeable way of searching American ships and taking charge of any Englishmen they found on them, even those who had become American citizens. These same British war-ships often fired upon those American vessels whose captains objected to their being searched.

So it came about that American ships carrying merchandise to other countries and bringing merchandise to American ports were interfered with more and more, and American commerce was thus ruined, for no American ship was safe. The end came early in the year 1812, when the United States declared war against Great Britain.

Castle Garden

As soon as war was declared, the citizens of New York united for defence, and when news came that the city was to be attacked, a great meeting was held in City Hall Park, and everybody decided, then and there, to support their country with their fortunes, their honor, and their lives. Then they went to work, stopping all other employment, and night and day they built forts and defences. They built forts on the islands in the bay to defend the approach to the city from the ocean, and they built forts in the Hell Gate to defend the approach by way of Long Island Sound, and they built batteries on the Island of Manhattan itself. One fort built at this time was on a little island close by the Battery, and was called Fort Clinton. This afterward became Castle Garden.

But though the British had sent soldiers and ships to fight the forces in America, they made no effort to capture the city of New York.

The war went on for two years; there were battles, many of them, on the land and on the sea. Very often the British had the best of it, and then again the Americans would have the best of it. But in the end, although the British fought hard, the Americans fought harder, and in the first month of the year 1815 the war ended with a great battle in New Orleans, which the Americans won.

Everything was going along smoothly when all at once the yellow fever broke out on the west side, far downtown. It raged with even more violence than had the small-pox. Citizens fled, and the stricken district was fenced off so that no one might enter it. It was like a place of the dead, silent and deserted. Many people went far out of town to Greenwich Village, and many business houses opened offices in this little settlement; with the result that Greenwich Village started on a new life, and it was not long before it grew to be an important part of New York instead of a suburb. For many who had transferred their business also went to live there, not returning to the city even after the fever had passed away.

Landing of Lafayette at Castle Garden

In the year after the fever (it was by this time 1824) General Lafayette came again to America and was warmly received. Landing first at Staten Island, he was, on the following day, escorted by a naval procession and conducted to Castle Garden. A multitude came to voice their welcome and follow him to the City Hall, where he was greeted by the Mayor and all of the officials. During his stay he held daily receptions in the City Hall, and afterward visited the public institutions and buildings. On leaving for a tour of the country he was accompanied all the way to Kingsbridge by a detachment of troops. For thirteen months he travelled through the country, and when he returned to New York in the autumn of the next year, the citizens gave a banquet in his honor, at Castle Garden, which surpassed anything of the kind that had ever been seen.

Then General Lafayette sailed away to France again. In the month after he had gone, with all the city cheering him and making such a din that you would have thought that there never could be a greater, in the very next month the city was again all decorated, and more shouts rent the air, for a grand undertaking had just been completed, which you shall now hear of.

Ever since the days of the Revolution there had been talk of digging a canal from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Ocean; for you must know that in these days there being no railroads, most of the traffic and travel were done by water. This canal had been long talked of, but no step had been taken toward building it.

Now you will remember that De Witt Clinton, while he was Mayor, took a great deal of interest in everything that was for the good of the city. Well, after he had been Mayor for some years, he became Governor of the State, and it was he who came to think that although the building of the canal would be a great undertaking, for it would have to be more than 300 miles long, it might after all be accomplished. For years he worked, with some others, while many said that it was a foolish idea, and too much of a task even to think of. But still Clinton worked at his plans, and finally, the money having been given by the State, the digging of the canal was begun. The work went on for eight years, and in the month of October, 1825, was finished.

The canal was a water-way that stretched across the State of New York from Buffalo to Albany and there joined the Hudson River, which leads straight to the city of New York, and so on to the ocean.

The people in the city and in the State were delighted at the completion of the work, and on the day of the opening of the canal they expressed their joy as loudly as they could. Governor De Witt Clinton was at the Buffalo end, and he, with the State officers, started in a boat decorated with flags and bunting and was towed through the canal. As the boat set out from Buffalo, a cannon was fired, and many more cannon having been placed each within hearing distance of the other by the side of the canal, in turn took up the sound and carried it along, mile after mile, until the last one, stationed in the city of New York, was fired, one hour and twenty-five minutes after the first had been fired at Buffalo. By this the people all across the State knew that the canal had been opened.

For ten days the boats crept along the canal, and at each town bands played, and speeches were made, until on the tenth day the Governor and his party reached New York—the first to make the journey across the State by water. They were taken to Sandy Hook, the Mayor of New York, with many others, attending, and surrounded by all the ships in the bay, with their colors flying and their whistles blowing. And there at Sandy Hook, Governor Clinton poured a keg of water which he had brought from Lake Erie into the waters of the ocean.

Thus were the waters of the Great Lakes and the waters of the Atlantic Ocean united, and the city was illuminated as it had never been before, and great bonfires burned all night, in honor of the wedding.

It really seemed now as though some fairy wand had been turned toward New York. Blocks of houses of brick and stone sprang up, and buildings of every sort crept up the Island of Manhattan and were occupied by more than 200,000 people. The city was the centre of art and literature and science in America. The streets were lighted by gas; there were fine theatres; and the first street railroad in the world was in operation—the first step toward crowding out the lumbering stages. Newspapers were multiplying, and there were now fifty various sorts, daily, weekly, and monthly. The dailies cost six cents, and were delivered to regular subscribers. In the year 1833 theSun, the first penny paper to be published in the city, was issued. It was a success. Boys sold it on the streets in all parts of the town. This was the beginning of the work of the news-boys, and after this they were to be found all over the country.

But now there came another great fire. On a December night, a night so cold that it was said there had not been such another in fifty years, flames broke out in the lower part of town near the river. The citizens battled with it as best they could, but it burned for three days, destroying almost all of the business end of the city. For years afterward it was called the "Great Fire," and was remembered with dread. To-day there is a marble tablet on a house in Pearl Street near Coenties Slip, which was the centre of the burned district, where you can read of how fearful the fire was and how thankful the people were that the entire city was not destroyed. But the houses were quickly rebuilt, and New York prospered more than ever before.

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