The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1870-03-25
G11MpsEs OF THE GOLD ROOM.
A MEMORABLE LANDMARK PASSING AWAY
SKETCHES HERE AND THERE AMONG
THE BULLS AND BEARs-THEIR
PERSONNEL AND PECULIARI-
TIES-A MAN OF DESTINY

The first turn to the right off Wall street,
a few hundred feet down New street, brings
the visitor or the victim, as the case may
be, to the main entrance of the Gold Room
ii PLACE of fast fading but of once mo-
ton such as stir mems souls as deep as po-
litical or religious revolutions. Here the
terrible drama of the 25th of last Septem-
Der was enacted. Here it was that during
the war frenzied men risked the hazard of
the golden die, and either rode triumphant
on the tide of fortune or were buried for
ever in the flood. There may be sermon
or two in stones, but the point and interest
pared to The profound lessons on fffs s SaRi
ty of human hopes, the intensity and
strength of human passions which the his
tory of the Gold Room breaches. Few
men will ever forget the day with gold at
lat, when the half crazy Speyers, with
wild whoop, called for five millions at 1855,
and all the yelling bears stood aghast, and
all the cool headed operators trembled and
grew pale. That awful time will hardly
ever come again, and the period, it is to be
hoped, is not far distant when the chance
of its recurrence will be placed beyond the
Gold Room disappears, before its peculiar
usefulness is ended, it may be worth while
to take u peep at the concern and the men
who frequent it. If you are not member
or u privileged visitor you must deny your
self the pleasure of being introduced to the
circus and learning the curious reminiscent
ces stored up in the capacious memory Of
the doorkeeper, Mr. John Hutchinson. He
is ayoung man of apt perception, and he
keeps on hand fresh and ready for delivery
the unwritten records of the Gold Room.
These, however, do not come within the
scope of this article, but rather the person
al appearance of the crowd that day after
day shouts itself hoarse in the interest of
the golden god. From the gallery the best
view is obtained of the circus or pit down
below, where all the buying and selling is
going on.
| 1t is high, square room, with an iron
rallied gallery for spectators; coat room,
away in one corner, and directors room
in another; desk, for the president, in
the middle, and a telegraph office near by.
The place has a decidedly rakish appear
ance, and so has great number OF its hd6i-
tues. A circular space, made by an ar
rangement of steps, which descend in di-
minishing rounds to a fountain, placed ex-
actly in the middle of the room, constitutes
the arena of the bulls and bears. Around
the fountain, which is fortunately protec-
ted by an iron railing, the operators most
do congregate; but on the broad steps as
cending from there those who can find no
room at the railing shout out their wants
and wishes to their neighbors all around.
PERSONNEL OF THE OPERATORS.
That man picking his teeth in the back
ground is Jim Cross, youth of twenty
four years, popularity known as "Keep's fat
boy" large illustration of the expansive
influence Of mush and milk. He is solid
reality of the Gold Room, and his opera
tions before he grew so stout were general
ly heavy. He views the battle from afar
nowadays, but sails in occasionally when a
superior weight of metal is wanted.
Near the fat young man stands Charley
Parlles in velvet vesture, round hat like
the upper section of beehive, Piccadilly
weepers, and necktie as gay as the flag of
our Union. For the last three orfour weeks
Charley has been a prominent bear and
principal hammerer of the market. He is
a heavy operator and heavy swell, but
the species to which he belongs will soon
be rcckoned among the dream of things
that were. Bob Bale, "slow and sure
leans listlessly against the front wall of the
Presidents desk chewing the cud of sweet
and golden fancies, but showing just a
faint tinge of sadness at the grovelling dis
position recently exhibited by his favorite
article of speculation. Bobs motto always
was to bid for million or CARLOAD, and
yet he still lives.
ALAS, POOR YoRIcK!
The man who sits over near the telegraph
office with his legs crossed and putting
smoke like an overstrained tugboat is one
Of fine great bulls the Bashan bull of thu