was the
great promenade. Omnibuses, cabs, hacks, trucks rolled through it all
day long. There were footmen in livery; luxury was displayed in the
equipages. There were crowds of foreigners; and ragged boys and girls
who sold matches or newspapers. New York had the penny newspaper. We
looked out upon the street in the early morning, when the workers
streamed to their tasks. We saw it at breakfast time, when the bankers
hurried toward Wall Street, and the lawyers were going to court, or to
their offices in Nassau and Pine streets. In the afternoon ladies,
richly dressed, dandies, and loafers crowded the sidewalks. There was
fashion in abundance; wonderful silks, ermine cloaks, furs, feathers,
gorgeous costumes of all sorts. Gold had been discovered in California!
The Mexican cessions and Oregon could be felt on Broadway. In the shops
articles from every part of the world were for sale. There were ladies'
oyster shops, ladies' reading rooms, and ladies' bowling alleys.

We drove to the new residence districts, like La Fayette Place, Waverly
Place, Washington Square, and lower Fifth Avenue. We went down to the
Battery from which I had looked with lonely eyes on the ships and the
bay fifteen years before. The sailing vessels were giving way to the
steamship. The Cunarder _Canada_ was in port, 250 feet long, of 2000
horsepower, and with a speed of eleven knots an hour. Everywhere we
encountered the New York policemen who had taken the place of the
night-watch of 1833. They were all in uniform too. They had made a fight
against the uniforms, upon the principle that all men are free and
equal, and that they would not be liveried lackeys. But they had come to
it. We also attended the theater frequently, like the Chatham and the
Olympic. But most wonderful of all was Barnum's Museum, in which that
great showman had collected dwarfs and giants, fat women and human
skeletons.

I felt impelled to hurry to Chicago, but Dorothy wanted to shop and so
we stayed on. One day I had an agreeable surprise in meeting with
Yarnell as we were entering the Astor House. I had not seen him since I
parted with him in 1833, on my way west. He was now about forty-five
years of age, but looked as youthful as when I first saw him, and was
more of a dandy. He touched my arm as I passed him. I recognized him at
once and presented him to Dorothy. As Dorothy was anxious to return to
our son, she left me with Yarnell who wished to join me at luncheon.

H