esident, Jean Contoit by name, whose very modest garden
long continued to be the principal place from which such a dainty could
be obtained. It may have been M. Contoit who, speaking to a compatriot
of his first days in America, said, "Imagine! when I first came to this
country, people cooked vegetables with water only, _and the calf's head
was thrown away_!"

Of the dress of that period I remember that ladies wore white cambric
gowns, finely embroidered, in winter as well as in summer, and walked
abroad in thin morocco slippers. Pelisses were worn in cold weather,
often of some bright color, rose pink or blue. I have found in a family
letter of that time the following description of a bride's toilet: "Miss
E. was married in a frock of white merino, with a full suit of steel:
comb, earrings, and so on." I once heard Mrs. William Astor, _nee_
Armstrong, tell of a pair of brides, twin sisters, who appeared at
church dressed in pelisses of white merino, trimmed with chinchilla,
with caps of the same fur. They were much admired at the time.

Among the festivities of old New York, the observance of New Year's Day
held an important place. In every house of any pretension, the ladies of
the family sat in their drawing-rooms, arrayed in their best dresses,
and the gentlemen of their acquaintance made short visits, during which
wine and rich cakes were offered them. It was allowable to call as early
as ten o'clock in the morning. The visitor sometimes did little more
than appear and disappear, hastily muttering something about "the
compliments of the season." The gentlemen prided themselves upon the
number of visits paid, the ladies upon the number received. Girls at
school vexed each other with emulative boasting: "We had fifty calls on
New Year's Day." "Oh! but _we_ had sixty-five." This perfunctory
performance grew very tedious by the time the calling hours were ended,
but apart from this, the day was one on which families were greeted by
distant relatives rarely seen, while old friends met and revived their
pleasant memories.

In our house, the rooms were all thrown open. Bright fires burned in the
grates. My father, after his adoption of temperance principles, forbade
the offering of wine to visitors, and ordered it to be replaced by hot
coffee. We were rather chagrined at this prohibition, but his will was
law.

I recall a New Year's Day early in the thirties, on which a yellow
chariot stopped before our door. A stout,