period of darkness and depression-the War of 1812—a period, moreover, which was to be rendered additionally trying by the crippling of its resources by the terrible conflagration of 1811 The late Hon. G. P. Disosway, who, with a few yet living, passed through this fiery ordeal, gives his personal reminiscences of this fire as follows: "An extensive fire broke out in Chatham Street, near Duane, on Sunday morning, May 19th, 1811, raging furiously several hours. A brisk north-east wind was blowing at the moment, and the flames, spreading with great rapidity, for some time baffled all the exertions of the firemen and citizens. Between eighty and one hundred buildings, on both sides of Chatham Street, were consumed in a few hours. "We well remember this conflagration. The writer was then a Sabbathschool boy, and a teacher in a public school-room near by, at the corner of Tryon Row. The school was dismissed, and, as usual, proceeded to old John Street Church, thick showers of light, burning shingles and cinders falling all over the streets. That was the day of shingle roofs. When the teachers and scholars, their number very large, reached the church, the venerable Bishop McKendall occupied the pulpit, and seeing the immense clouds of dark smoke and living embers enveloping that section of the city, he advised the men' to go to the fire and help in its extinguishment, and he would preach to the women and children.' This advice was followed. "By this time the scene had become very exciting, impressive, and even fearful. We have not forgotten it, and never will. The wind had increased to a gale, and far and wide and high flew the blazing flakes in whirling eddies, throwing burning destruction wherever they lit or fell. The lofty spires near by of the 'Brick Meeting,' 'St. Paul's,' and 'St. George's Chapel,' enveloped in the rapidly passing embers, soon became the especial objects of watchfulness and anxiety. Thousands of uplifted eyes, and, we doubt not, prayers, were directed towards these holy tabernacles, now threatened with speedy destruction. And there was cause for fear. Near the ball at the top of the Brick Church,' a blazing spot was seen outside, and apparently not larger than a man's head. Instantly a thrill of fear evidently ran through the bosoms of the thousands crowding the Park and the wide area of Chatham Street. They feared the safety of an old and loved temple of the Lord, and they feared, also, if the spire was once in flames, with the increasing gale, what would be the terrible consequence on the lower part of the city. "What can we do?' was the universal question- What in the world can be done?' was in everybody's mouth. The kindling spot could not be reached from the inside of the tall steeple, nor by ladders outside; neither could any fire-engine, however powerful, force the water to that lofty height. With the deepest anxiety, fear, and trembling, all faces were turned in that direction. At this moment of alarm and dread, a sailor appeared on the roof of the church, and very soon was seen climbing up the steeple, hand over hand, by the lightning-rod! - yes, by the rusty, slender iron! Of course, the excitement now became most intense; and the perilous undertaking of the daring man was watched every moment, as he slowly, step by step, grasp after grasp, literally crawled upward, by means of his slim conductor. Many fears were expressed among the immense crowd, watching every inch of his ascent, for there was no resting-place for hands and feet, and he must hold on, or fall and perish; and should he succeed in reaching the burning spot, how could he possibly extinguish it, as water, neither by hose nor bucket, could be sent to his assistance? 'But where there is a will, there is a way,' says an old maxim, and it was at this crisis he reached the kindling spot, and, firmly grasping the lightning-rod in one hand, with the other he removed his tarpaulin hat from his head, and with it literally, blow after blow, thick, strong, and unceasing, extinguished or beat out the fire! Shouts of joy and thanks greeted the noble fellow as he slowly and safely descended to the earth again.* The Old Brick' was thus preserved from the great conflagration of that Sunday morning. Our hero quickly disappeared in the crowd, and, it was said, immediately sailed abroad, with the favorable wind then blowing. A reward was offered for the person who performed this daring, generous act; but it is said that some impostor passed himself off for the real hero, and obtained the promised amount. “The cupola of the 'Old Jail,' which stood on the spot now occupied by the 'Hall of Records,' also took fire. This was extinguished through the exertions of a prisoner on the limits.' This was the famous, generous institution where unfortunate debtors formerly were confined and barred in with grated doors and iron bolts, deprived of liberty, and without tools, books, paper, or pen, expected to pay their debts. It was a kind of Calcutta Black-Hole,' and the inmates having no yard-room, the prisoners frequented the top of the building for open-air exercise. Here they might be seen every hour of the day. Generally discovering fires in the city, they gave the first alarm, by ringing the 'Jail-Bell.' This became a sure signal of a conflagration, and on this occasion they saved the legal pest-house from quick destruction. The Corporation rewarded the debtor who fortunately extinguished the threatened cupola. "If the building had been destroyed and its inmates only saved, there would not have been much public regret, for it had been a sort of 'Calcutta Black-Hole' to American prisoners of war during the Revolution. After General Washington's success, during 1777, in New Jersey, a portion of these poor prisoners were exchanged; but many of them, exhausted by their confinement, before reaching the vessels for their embarkation home, fell dead in the streets These are some of the historical reminiscences of the Old Debtors' Prison,' which so narrowly escaped burning in the great fire of May, 1811." Scarcely had the citizens of New York recovered from the disheartening effects of this fire, when, on the 20th of June, 1812, the news was received in the city of 1812. President Madison's declaration of war against Great Britain, issued a few days previous. A meeting was immediately called at noon of the same day, in the This sailor was the father of the late Rev. Dr. Hague, Pastor of the Baptist Church, corner of Thirty-first Street and Madison Avenue.-Letter from Thomas Hays to the Author. park, at which the citizens solemnly pledged themselves to give the Government their undivided support. Clinton, also, although, as chief magistrate of the city, he could with perfect propriety have pleaded his official duties as an excuse for not taking an active part,—hastened to offer to the commander-in-chief his personal services for active operations in the field. These were preferred in a letter addressed to Governor Tompkins, by their mutual friend, Thomas Addis Emmet. But the patriotism of Mr. Clinton did not stop here. The declaration of war had found us. as a nation wholly unprepared for war. The treasury was empty, and its credit, at that time, impaired. It was, accordingly, soon perceived that, if the city of New York was to be defended, the funds for that purpose must be provided by her own citizens. At this crisis, Mr. Clinton suggested to the Common Council that they should borrow the necessary funds on the credit of the city, and loan the amount thus raised to the United States. The plan was approved. An impressive address, drafted by Mr. Clinton, was made to our citizens, and a million of dollars-at that time a large sum to be secured in this manner--was raised by subscription for the defense of the city. 1813. Nor was it only in repelling outside foes that the virtues of Clinton's character were exhibited. His patriotism, his unshaken firmness in supporting the laws and in preserving the peace of the community, were at this time most conspicuous. A state of war in every country produces a body of men who, under various specious pretexes, excite to acts of riot and disorder, which they turn to the gratification of their private and personal resentments, or their own malignant passions.* Disgraceful scenes of lawless violence and of bloodshed had recently occurred in a * Vide, for example, the "Draft Riot" in New York in 1863. sister city, and gave fearful omen of what might likewise be expected in New York, unless restrained by the strong arm of the law. Mr. Clinton foresaw the crisis, and his correct and intrepid spirit prepared for the emergency. In an address to the Grand Jury, he alluded to the riotous scenes in Baltimore, and, with a view to prevent a repetition of similar occurrences in New York, he digested and prepared a system of police regulations for the preservation of the peace of the city, which was adopted by the Common Council. The result was that the city remained tranquil and undisturbed by tumult of any sort. "The character of Mr. Clinton," says Dr. Hosack, in alluding to this circumstance, "was an assurance to the community that these regulations would not remain a dead letter, but be faithfully and promptly executed. His well known firmness gave tranquillity to our city; the vicious were awed; the virtuous, under his auspices, felt additional confidence." But, as a city, New York did well. Her conduct, in view of the severe blow which it was perceived would at once be given by the war to the prosperity of New York, was no slight proof of patriotism; and many who at the beginning of the war were rich, found themselves, when the treaty of peace was signed on the 24th of December, 1814, ruined. The condition in which New York was at the close of the war, as well as the extravagant demonstration of joy with which the news of the termination of hostilities was received, is thus graphically described by the late Francis Wayland, who was an eye-witness of the scene: 1814. "It so chanced that, at the close of the last war with Great Britain, I was temporarily a resident of the city of New York. The prospects of the nation were shrouded in gloom. We had been, for two or three years, at war with the mightiest nation on earth, and as she had now concluded a peace with the continent of Europe, we were obliged to cope with her single-handed. Our harbors were blockaded, communications coastwise between our ports were cut off; our ships were rotting in every creek and cove where they could find a place of security; our immense annual products were mouldering in our warehouses; the sources of profitable labor were dryed up; our currency was reduced to irredeemable paper; the extreme portions of our country were becoming hostile to each other; and differences of political opinion were embittering the peace of every household; the credit of the Government was exhausted; no one could predict when the contest would terminate, or discern the means by which it could much longer be protracted.* The following lines, entitled "Hard Times," published in New York city at the close of the War of 1812, seem, with one or two exceptions, written for the present day. History has repeated itself, except in the case of the geese and turkeys! Would that a “good fat goose" could now be bought for five shillings! "No business stirring, all things at a stand, The females must have ribbons, gauze, and lace, |