The daily morning journal and courier., 1903-10-17
OLD NEW YORK.
Some of the Recollections of an Aged
 ex-Gothamite.

Some of the Recollections of an Aged |, ex-Gothamite.
 I have seen in my home paper what
 H. s. B. wrote for you, weeks ago of. the
 story of Charlotte Temples grave in
 Trinity Church yard, and of his own life spent under the shadow of Trinity until he tocuhes three score, that pleasantly l recalls my early life, when my home was near the Battery and the Battery was a sylvan delight of incomparable loveliness. Trinity was rebuilt sixty years ago, and it's shadow has cast a hallowed influence that was felt even for the more than half century that my homes has been on the Pacific coast. The story of Charlotte Temple was
 tradition of the early time, and
 Trinity Church abounded in mementoes
 of noble men who lived in the past. My
 home for youthful years was near the
 Bowling Green, and survives yet, when
 sky-scrapers neighbor it. Seventy years
 ago there was no business below Trinity
 and Battery place; sixty years ago was
 the home of such modest mlllionaires as
 Whitney, 7 Stevens, and Wilmerding.
 My home had it's traditions, for Talley-
 rand came there when he sought refuge
 in America; there lived Charles Kean
 when he made his first advent this side the ocean; there was for many years
 the home of Jacob Barber, and Jacob
 Little spent his bachelor days there,
 both of whom were niagnates of Wall
 street early in thelast century.
 Seventy Vp9r a on r ypoc fo1ra,, to
 tie Garden to see Gen. Jackson land there from a steamer, and an hour later looked from an upper window on an open barouche, wherein sat, bareheaded, Andrew Jackson and Martin Van Buren, President and Vice-President at that time. Two mornings later from a Sound steamer rounding the Battery we saw three of the old-time wooden war ships give the finest display possible, in honor of the President, who was a passenger with us. The way those tall masts were dressed with flags; bands all played, the great guns roared, and the tars in blue jacket and white pants ran up the shrouds and manned the yards to give their three times three. remains the finest display of the early years. Near the same time saw Black Hawk and Red Jacket land at the Bat tery, on their way to Washington, when the Black Hawk was over. As early as 1850 the fairs of the American Institute were held in Castle Garden; balloons l were sent skyward from there when l they were comparative novelty, and in | the forties Jenny Lind sang there, and | Ole Bull played his violin. Before iron l ships were dreamed of, parties of young | people would visit the war ships an- chored there to have evening dances on | their quarter decks with gay young off, cers who lived to become veterans of the civil war.
 The mention of Phil Hone recalls a story that went the rounds sixty years ago, for in those days a good thing was appreciated and retold ,and laughed over the length and breadth of the me- and the metropolis had not over third of million people when I first knew it, had no gas and no Croton water; the city was then mostly below canal Stret, and cars were not even ot. Then all the great merch- ants Knew each other, and among the we'll known were Phili Hone and Thad Sturges, the first with habit of reck- less profanity, the last one of the most devout and sober minded of men. With all this difference they were intimate friends. The multitude of good auaIi- .ies could not prevent Hone from hav- ng profane gusts, and on one occa- sion sturges remonstrated with his friend; Phil. my dear fellow, it. can't K 'e possible that you know wha. pro-