seen sitting in his big oaken arm-chair, dozing in some pleasing reverie, like a Turk over his sherbet after dinner, or as "calm and quiet as a summer's morning." If a visitor chanced to call, he would take a long pipe from his mouth, with the most easy deliberation, while the whiffs from the aromatic Virginia weed curled upward in an

azure cloud and mingled with the vapor which had preceded it. Still, "Poppy Lownds," as before stated, was a good soul, and many a debtor had cause long to remember the kindness with which he was treated while sojourning in the old Don-jon.*

*It is true that the change from a prison into the Hall of Records was contemplated as early as 1830; but the building was not made perfectly ready for occupation until the present year.

For a more detailed account of the Debtors' Prison see Appendix No. IX.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN 1835, New York was visited by the most terrible conflagration she had ever experienced-an event which was so disastrous to the mercantile as well as to the

1835.

private interests of the city, that a full account of it must not be omitted. The late Mr. Gabriel P. Disosway, who was present on the occasion, kindly furnished me, a few months before his death, with the following account of the conflagration itself, and the losses entailed by it:

“The fearful night of December 16, 1835, will long be remembered for the most terrible conflagration that has ever visited the great city. I then resided in that pleasant Quaker neighborhood, Vandewater Street, and hearing an alarm of fire, hastened to the front door. I immediately discovered, from the direction of the flame and smoke, that the fire was 'down-town,' and not far off. Thousands of others besides myself dreaded such an alarm that night, as it was the coldest one we had had for thirty-six years. A gale of wind was also blowing. I put on an old warm overcoat and an old hat, for active service 'on my own hook.' Years afterward these articles, preserved as curiosities, bore marks of the heat, sparks, and exposure of that fearful time. Our own store, Disosway & Brothers, 180 Pearl Street, near Maiden Lane, although fireproof, naturally became the first object of my attention. This was providentially located several blocks above the fire; and, accordingly, having lighted the gas, and leaving the clerks to watch, I hastened to the building that was on fire.

"This was the store of Comstock & Andrews, well-known fancy dry-goods jobbers, at the corner of Pearl and Merchant Streets, a narrow, new lane, a little below Wall Street. When I entered the building on the lower floor, the fire had commenced in the counting-room, having caught, as it was believed, from the stove-pipe. Those few of us present had time to remove a considerable quantity of light fancy silk articles. The goods, however, were of a very

inflammable nature, and a strong current of air sweeping through the adjoining lane, we were soon compelled to leave the balance of this large and valuable stock to destruction. Here, and in this manner, the great fire of 1835 originated.

"In a short time this tall and large brick store was enveloped in flames, which burst from the doors and windows on both streets. Over half an hour had elapsed before the first engine arrived, and attempted to throw a stream upon the opposite stores of Pearl Street, against which the gale was driving the rapidly increasing heat and embers. But so furious were both that the boldest firemen retreated for their lives and the safety of their machine. The street at this point is very narrow, and prevented any man from reaching the lower or adjacent part of Pearl from this end. A burning wall of fire now intervened, and increased every moment. The way to the alarming scene was through William and Water Streets, and Old Slip. After a little while, that which was universally dreaded happened-the water in the hydrants froze, and prevented the engine from obtaining any further supply. Having drawn the 'machine' to a safe place, the firemen nobly went to work saving property. It was all they possibly could do. The reader must remember that the thermometer had now fallen below zero, which, added to a biting, fierce winter wind, paralyzed the exertions of both firemen and citizens. All ordinary means for stopping the rapidly increasing flames were abandoned, and the efforts of all were directed to the removal of the contents of the buildings to places beyond the supposed reach of destruction. In this way immense quantities of goods were placed in the large Merchants' Exchange on Wall Street, in Old Slip, Hanover Square, and the Garden-street Dutch Church and its adjoining grave-yard. In a few hours, however, the devouring element, reaching these areas and splendid edifices, swept everything away as with the 'besom of destruction.' Millions of dollars were consumed in a very short time.

"I am writing my own reminiscences of that awful night, and not the experiences of another, and must be excused if I often use the personal pronoun. By midnight it was evident that no earthly power could stay the then Etna-like rapid progress of the raging torrent, which increased every moment most alarmingly, and spread in every direction, except toward the east. Most fortunately, it did not cross Wall, that street having become an impassable barrier, else the eastern and upper sections of the city might have shared the same fate as the lower. Who can tell where the calamity would have paused, for there were immense blocks of wooden buildings on Water and Cherry and Pearl Streets, 'up' town more than 'down,' and inflammable magazines which, once fired, could extend the common destruction over the city.

"My own course that night was to obtain voluntary aid, and, entering the stores of personal friends, remove, if possible, books and papers. Such was absolutely the heat in front of some stores on the south side of Pearl, near Wall Street, that, although they were not yet on fire, it was impossible to force an entrance that way, and we were obliged to effect it from Water Street, as those buildings extended through the block. A panel in the rear door was broken out, and, entering through this with lanterns, we reached the countingroom, and then, collecting the books and invoices, placed them in a hand-cart and sent them away. It is impossible to imagine the fervent heat created by

the increasing flames. Many of the stores were new, with iron shutters, doors, and copper roofs and gutters, 'fire-proof' of first class, and I carefully watched the beginning and the progress of their destruction. The heat alone, at times, melted the copper roofing, and the burning liquid ran off in great drops. At one store, near Arthur Tappan & Co.'s, I warned some firemen of their danger from this unexpected source. Along here the buildings were of the first class, and one after another ignited under the roof, from the next edifice; downward, from floor to floor, went the devouring element. As the different stories caught, the iron-closed shutters shone with glowing redness, until at last, forced open by the uncontrollable enemy within, they presented the appearance of immense iron furnaces in full blast. The tin and copper-bound roofs often seemed struggling to maintain their fast hold, gently rising and falling and moving, until, their rafters giving way, they mingled in the blazing crater below of goods, beams, floors, and walls.

"On the north side of Hanover Square stood the fine store-house of Peter Remsen & Company, one of the largest East India firms, with a valuable stock. Here we assisted, and many light bales of goods were thrown from the upper windows, together with a large amount of other merchandise, all heaped in the midst of the square, then thought to be a perfectly secure place. Vain calculation! Both sides of Pearl Street were soon in the furious blaze, and the ground became covered with living cinders. This whole pile dissolved and mingled in the common and increasing ruin. Water Street, too, was on fire, and we hastened to the old firm of S. B. Harper & Sons, grocers, on Front, opposite Gouverneur Lane, where there appeared to be no immediate danger.

"The father and sons had arrived, and we succeeded in removing their valuables. As we left the store after the last load, a terrible explosion occurred near by with the noise of a cannon. The earth shook. We ran for safety, not knowing what might follow, and took refuge on the corner of Gouverneur Lane, nearly opposite. Waiting for a few minutes, a second explosion took place, then another and another. During the space, perhaps, of half an hour, shock after shock followed in rapid succession, accompanied with the darkest, thickest clouds of smoke imaginable. The explosions came from a store on Front Street, near Old Slip, where large quantities of saltpeter in bags had been stored. Suddenly the whole ignited, and out leaped the flaming streams of these neutral salts in their own peculiar colors, from every door and window. Some might have called them fire-works. We have never forgotten this saltpeter eruption, or explosion, and never doubted since the explosive character of the article.

"About midnight, the onward march of the uncontrolled, riotous flames had reached the East River, and could go no further beyond that impassable barrier. Before this, the crowded shipping had fortunately sufficient time to be removed from the docks and slips. One of the most grand and frightful scenes of the whole night was the burning of a large oil-store at the corner of Old Slip and South Street. It was four or more stories high, and filled with windows on both sides without any shutters. This was before the days of petroleum and kerosene, and the building was full of sperm and other oils. These fired hogs. head after hogshead, and over the spacious edifice resembled a vast bonfire or giant beacon, casting its bright beams far and wide on the river and surrounding region; but finally the confined inflammable mass, from eaves to cellar, shot

out with tremendous force through every window and opening, and soon all disappeared except the cracked, tottering, and falling walls.

"The blazing, flying timbers were carried across the East River, and, in one instance, set fire to the roof of a house in Brooklyn, which, however, was quickly extinguished. Large quantities of tar and turpentine on the wharves becoming ignited, ran down blazing into the stream, and, floating off, made a sort of burning sea, many square yards in extent. The conflagration, increasing every moment, also extended inward toward Broadway. Great hopes were indulged that the Merchants' (marble) Exchange (in which, since 1827, the Postoffice had been located) would escape. In the vast rotunda of the edifice stood a most beautiful white marble statue of Alexander Hamilton. Accordingly, a great anxiety was manifested to save this image of the great statesman. It was a masterpiece of art, and hundreds of willing hands, including those of a large number of sailors, undertook its removal, but to no purpose; and the finely chiseled marble, with the solid granite of the Exchange, before long mingled together in common ruin. The letters of the Post-office were alone saved.

"There was evidently now no salvation for those fine new stores on William Street, near by, and in Exchange Place, where the auctioneers and other commission houses had located. I sought the premises of Burns, Halliburton & Company, one of the most popular firms of that day. They were the agents of the Merrimac and other works, and had an immense valuable stock of calicoes, muslin, and flannels. Their large store extended from William Street to the grave-yard of the Garden-street Church. Most of the stock was easily removed to this place of imagined security, which, indeed, became the depot, for the time being, for millions of merchandise. We soon cleared this store. The firm were agents also for extra flannels. These, packed in small bales, and light, were readily cast from the upper stories into the grave-yard. In one of the upper lofts I met a member of the firm, Mr. B., one of Nature's noblemen, since dead, with his other partners, and he was weeping. 'Too hard,' said he, 'after all the toil of years, to see property thus suddenly destroyed!' 'Cheer up,' we replied, the world is still wide enough for success and fortune;' and so it proved to him and many other sufferers.

"This row of fine new stores had very flat roofs, and, imagining that a good view of the whole conflagration could be obtained from the top, we soon found our way there. Some friends in the yard, fearing that we had been locked up and in danger, screamed like wild Indians, pointing out a way of escape. But there was no danger; and what a sight now presented itself! From Maiden Lane to Coenties Slip, and from William Street to the East River, the whole immense area, embracing some thirteen acres, all in a raging, uncontrollable blaze! To what can we compare it? An ocean of fire, as it were, with roaring, rolling, burning waves, surging onward and upward, and spreading certain universal destruction; tottering walls and falling chimneys, with black smoke, hissing, crashing sounds on every side. Something like this, for we cannot describe it, was the fearful prospect, and, soon satisfied with the alarming, fear. ful view, we retreated from our high look-out. The light had spread more and more vividly from the fiery arena, rendering every object, far and wide, minutely discernible-the lower bay and its islands, with the shores of Long Island and New Jersey. Even from Staten Island the conflagration was very plainly seen. A sea on fire is, perhaps, the best similitude I can fancy to describe this grand and awful midnight winter scene.