the men engaged
in a business which one would suppose required more experience than any
other, the buying and selling of gold, seemed to be under twenty-five
years of age; most of them much younger, some quite boys. The reason
given me was that older heads could not stand the tumult, all
gesticulating, all vociferating, every man with a note-book and pencil,
crowded round a ring in the centre of the hall like a little cock-pit,
to which you descend by steps. Every now and then a man rushes out of
the telegraph corner with some news, which oozes out and makes the crowd
howl and seethe again. The hands of a big dial on the wall are moved on
from time to time, marking the hour of the day and the price of gold.
This is the dial of the barometer of national prosperity, marked by gold
instead of mercury....

[Illustration: NEW YORK AND THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE]

A huge sum of money has been laid out on Central Park, the Bois de
Boulogne of New York. When the timber has grown larger it will be very
pretty. The ground is rocky, with little depth of soil in it; this makes
it difficult to get the trees to grow, but, on the other hand, gives the
place a feature not to be found in our parks or at the Bois, in the
large masses of brown sandstone cropping up through the turf here and
there, and in the rocky shores of the little lakes.

In the evening we went, by invitation of our courteous banker, to the
Assembly at Delmonico's rooms. In this we consider ourselves highly
honored and introduced to the best society of New York. The toilets
and the diamonds were resplendent, and one figure of the "German"
(cotillon), in which the ladies formed two groups in the centre, facing
inward with their bright trains spread out behind them, was a splendid
piece of color and costume. Prince Doria was there, and most of the
magnates of the city looked in. Some of the wealthiest people in the
room were pointed out to me as the present representatives of the
families of the old Dutch settlers; those are the pedigrees respected
here.

_December 20, 1866._--We left New York, having stayed exactly a week,
and meaning to return again. By rail to Philadelphia, ninety-two miles,
through a flat, snow-covered country, which, under the circumstances,
looked as dismal as might be. The latter part of our journey lay along
the left bank of the Delaware, which we crossed by a long wooden bridge,
and arrived at the Continental Hotel just at dusk. It is evident we