The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 10, June 26, 1858

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Title: Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 10, June 26, 1858

Editor: Stephen H. Branch

Release date: May 29, 2017 [eBook #54806]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)


Transcriber Notes

Life of Stephen H. Branch. 1
Supervisor Blunt, and Paul Julien—My Last Interview with Madame Sontag. 2
James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career. 3
For the Alligator. 3
New York, June 15, 1858. 4
Advertisements. 4

Volume I.—No. 10.]SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1858.[Price 2 Cents.


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.

Life of Stephen H. Branch.

Westport, Connecticut,—that he boarded at No. 24 Bleecker street, with Mrs. Mallory, and that he was a clerk for Perkins, Hopkins, and White, in Pearl street, near Hanover Square. I carried some beautiful books to his place of business, and requested him to accept them. He sweetly smiled, and opened the books, and warmly thanked me, and said he would be pleased to receive them, but that as I was a stranger, he would rather I would see his guardian, Morris Ketchum, a Banker in Wall street, and give him my name and address, and if he were satisfied with my references, and approved of his acceptance of the generous gift, he would be most happy to receive the books. I was fascinated with his modesty, and caution, and I took the books, and repaired to the Banking House of Mr. Ketchum, to whom I briefly imparted what had transpired, and left my references and departed, and called again, when Mr. Ketchum said that he had inquired respecting my character, and that young Jesup was prepared to receive my books, which I soon placed in his hands, and our acquaintance began under the most favorable auspices. I soon invited him to dine with me at Mrs. Tripler’s, when all the boarders were enchanted with his beautiful person, and pleasing manners, and highly cultivated mind; and I shall never forget how proud I was, as he sat beside me. After dinner, I invited him to my room, where I gave him cake and lemonade, and filled his pockets with delicious oranges. I then played “Washington’s March,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “Hail Columbia,” for him on the piano, and he departed for his place of business. He went with me to Niblo’s Garden, then in its glory, and as we strolled arm-in-arm in the meandering paths, and inhaled the exhilarating perfume of the flowers, I was charmed with his chaste society, and enraptured and inspired, and I breathed the music of language in his ears, and we both were invested with the purest and loftiest and happiest emotions. In a week from that joyous evening, he was seized with bleeding of the lungs, caused by excited feelings, during his enthusiastic efforts to please his employers, in the sleepless business season of early autumn. He was borne to his mother’s abode in the country, where he soon calmly resigned his soul to the Saviour, whose sacred virtues he had always strove to imitate. Although I had briefly enjoyed the pleasure of his society, yet his premature demise created a void in my bosom that made the world a desolation. His mother soon removed to New York, and occupied No. 39 Bond street, where I gratuitously taught her children in English and the classics. But the invisible germ of consumption has borne to the grave her pure, intelligent, and lovely Caroline, Charles, Richard, and Frederick, and Morris, Arthur, Samuel, and Sarah anticipate the same remorseless destiny. And may God cheer and bless their mother in her loneliness and tears. The father of this interesting and unfortunate family, was prostrated in the commercial crash of 1837, and his depressed and spotless soul fled for refuge to the bosom of his God. Morris Ketchum was his early business associate and friend, and has educated his children, procured them lucrative clerkships, afforded them facilities to visit nearly every nation, for health and general culture, established them in houses of commerce, and has clung to them, in sun and storm, like Pythias to Damon, and like Washington to his country. At this period of my eventful career, I taught colored and Irish servants, and those of all countries, in their kitchens in the evening, and sometimes by daylight. Some paid me one shilling a lesson, and some two, according to their wages and generosity. I taught the servants of the Reverend Doctor Wainright, the Reverend Doctor Orville Dewey, Daniel Lord, James T. Brady, Mr. Bowen, of Brooklyn, (of the firm of Bowen & McNamee, of New York,) and the servants of other distinguished citizens. I obtained scholars by going from door to door, in the basement, and asking the servants if they would like to learn to spell, read, write, and cipher. My health had been miserable since I left Columbian College, and I often expected to fall dead in the street, or suddenly expire in the presence of my pupils. For a long period after young Jesup died, I was very gloomy, and became utterly helpless and bed-ridden, and called oftener on my father for money than I desired, to pay for board and medical attendance. I got better, and crawled out into the open air, and went in pursuit of scholars in a snow storm. I began at the Battery, and applied at every door, until I came to No. 70 Greenwich street, when I was asked to come in and warm myself, by a daughter of the lady of the house, who kept boarders. After a long conversation, by a cheerful fire, I was engaged to teach the daughter in the English branches, for my breakfast and tea, and a very small dark room as a place of lodging, which I could not conveniently occupy without a candle in the day time. Humble as were to be my accommodations, my feelings were extremely buoyant, and my ghastly form trembled with delight at my unexpected resurrection from the depths of indigence and despair. Mr. Ditchett, (subsequently a very efficient Captain of the Fourth Ward Police, and a brave fireman, and an honest man,) had just married the eldest daughter, whose sister was to be my pupil. I was kindly treated, and remained until the first of May, when I went to Dey street, and afterwards to the Graham House, at No. 63 Barclay street, where I saw the lean Horace Greeley, one of the founders of the Graham System. The boarders were mostly skeletons, and several were limping about the house, like frogs or lizzards or grasshoppers, and among the limpers, was Horace Greeley, who had what the Grahamites called a boiling crisis, or crisis of boils, which was the result of youthful indiscretion, shower bathing, and eating heartily of bran bread, mush and molasses, squashes, turnips, beets, carrots, parsneps, and onions, for a long term of years. Although I had been a miserable invalid a large portion of my days, yet I fancied a speedy restoration to health, by eating unbolted wheat bread and vegetables, and frequent bathing. I entered into a spirited conversation with Greeley, who was reclining on the sofa, and in a loquacious mood, who told me that he expected to be quite smart after the disappearance of a large number of boils then all over his person, which he attributed to salt rheum, that he inherited from his father, and which was recently driven to the surface of his skin by a rigid adherence to the Graham System, and three shower baths a day; and he advised me to begin to bathe immediately, and to eat nothing but Graham bread for one month, with warm water, milk, and sugar. I asked Greeley if he was sure it was the secondary or inherited salt rheum that had come to the surface of his snowy flesh in the form of boils, and he said he was quite sure it was, as his father had it from his boyhood. I asked him if his secondary or inherited salt rheum ever itched, and he said yes, sometimes, but he was sure it was not the secondary itch, as he never had the first itch. I then looked him dead in the eye, and asked him if he was positively sure his boils were not the result of itch, and he asked me what I meant by such severity of scrutiny. I replied, that I once had the itch, and read many books on the subject, and knew all about it, and that his boils (he had two on his pale nose) looked very much like secondary itch blossoms. He cast searching glances, and sat in paralytic silence, save when he scratched his boils, and 2the bell summoned me to my first Graham dinner, and Greeley hopped to the table on one leg, and sat near Mrs. Goss at the head of the Graham festive board. About forty skeletons were present, and among them were Sylvester Graham (Bread,) himself, on a lecturing tour from his country seat at Northampton; John McCracken, of New Haven; Ralph Waldo Emerson; Abby Kelly; Fred Douglas and lady; Francis Copcutt, mahogany dealer, who used to eat raw oats, and ride 30 miles a day on a hard trotting horse for dyspepsia; Jeremiah O. Lanphear, tailor, and now first deacon and missionary of the Fulton street Dutch Presbyterian Church, who had a gravel nearly as large as General Winfield Scott’s, which was the largest that ever emanated from a human bladder; Mrs. Farnham, the accomplished lady and genuine philanthropist, and wife of the noble and famous California traveler, who was the rival of Fremont as a mountaineer; Mrs. Anna Stephens, the fertile and genial authoress; the celebrated Doctor Shew and lady; Mrs. Storms, of Troy, and long a writer and foreign correspondent of the New York Sun, and now of Texas; poor MacDonald Clark, the poet; Galutia B. Smith; Matthew B. Brady, the daguerreotypist, who married his sweetheart at the Graham House, and the room being crowded, I saw the exercises through the key hole; Mrs. Travis; Albert Brisbane, a moonlight dreamer; Mrs. Andrews, a strong Unitarian, (ninety-eight years old,) and her grandson, Albert L. Smith, a nervous and catarrhal gentleman, who now keeps a Graham House and Water Cure Establishment in West Washington Place; Dr. John Burdell, brother of Dr. Harvey Burdell, who was assasinated at No. 31 Bond Street; Leroy Sunderland, a Mesmeriser and Pathetic lecturer; John M. King; George Foss; Dr. Henry W. Brown; E. Gould Buffum, and his brother, William Buffum, now Consul at Trieste; Mrs. Horace Greeley; Mr. Clutz; Mrs. Van Vleet; Messrs. Tyler, Bennett, (a tailor), Otis, and Ward; Mrs. Gove; C. Edwards Lester; Mr. Danforth, a spurious reformer; the brothers Fowler, phrenologists; father Miller, the Millenium impostor; Mr. Seymour, a journeyman hatter at Beebe’s, who got among the noisy methodists, who frightened him into a dangerous nervous affection, and in bed one night, poor Seymour felt cold and strange and numb, and pinched himself in the arms and legs, and it didn’t hurt him, and he thought he was dead, and he got up, and kindled a match, and lit a candle, and looked in the glass to see whether he was dead or alive, and when he saw his eyes roll, and his jaws open and close, he got into bed, and went to sleep. This was the gang at table, and for dinner, we had bran bread and crackers, bean soup, roast apples and potatoes, and boiled squash and carrots, but not a particle of meat, grease, nor spices. All grabbed violently at the Graham viands, and brought their teeth together like swine, and with similar grunts and squeals. I calmly surveyed the motley and hungry group, and saw many small piercing gray eyes, hollow cheeks, and sharp chins and noses, and the voices of nearly all were husky and fearfully sepulchral. The themes discussed were Anti-Slavery and Grahamism, and I soon perceived it extremely perilous to breathe a word against the ultra views of the susceptible and long-haired Graham spectres, who seemed united to a ghost on these prolific themes. So, I listened and breathed not a syllable in opposition to the crazy views advanced. I took a stroll after dinner, and returned at sunset, and seated myself for my evening meal, when we had Graham-bread-coffee, milk porridge, apple sauce, Graham mush, and boiled rice, sparingly saturated with molasses and liquid ginger. I ate and drank freely of this light food, and arose from the table in excellent spirits, though I belched frequently. My belly soon began to swell, and I got alarmed, and I asked Mr. Goss, the Graham host, what it meant. He seemed perfectly cool, and said that his boarders were often affected in that way, in passing suddenly from greasy meats to the pure food of Grahamites, which was chiefly of a vegetable and somewhat of a gassy and flatulent character. Goss then left me. I thrice paced the parlor hurriedly, and began to feel choleric and crampy, and went down stairs into the kitchen, and asked Goss to send for a physician immediately, which he declined to do, as he thought I was only a little spleeny, which would soon pass away, and advised me to go to bed. He got me a Graham candle, and up we went, and did not stop until we reached the roof, where he put me in a little room, with two cots, on which there was a straw mattress, and a straw bolster, and scanty covering. He said good night, and shut the door, and I got into bed, and strove to sleep. I squirmed like an eel for about two hours, and could endure my pains no longer, and arose and awoke my room-mate, and asked him to escort me to the sleeping apartment of Mr. Goss. He did so, and I knocked at his door, and out he came in his nightcap and white apparel. I told him that I had cramps, and had an awful quantity of frantic wind in my stomach, and felt as though my belly would burst before morning, and that I was deathly sick, and asked him what on earth I had eaten at his table to give me such violent cramps and flatulence and diarrhœa, and nauseous and strange emotions. He told me that I was nervous, and not accustomed to Graham food, but that I soon would be, and urged me to again retire, and strive to sleep. He spoke these words with kindness, and they soothed me, and I shook his hand, and off I went up stairs to bed again. But in about ten minutes, I had a severe spasm, with choking sensations, and I leaped from my nest like a man in his last gasp, and unconsciously cast myself on the cot of my room-mate, who instantly emerged from a profound sleep, and sprang like a tiger from his bed, and threw me severely to the floor, and cried murder to the pinnacle of his voice, and began to pelt me in the most brutal manner, leveling the most savage random blows at my head and stomach. Goss and the spectral boarders rushed into the room, and Greeley soon came limping in, and they searched in vain for knives, revolvers, and human blood. And they soon learned the cause of the cry of murder, and raised me from the floor, and put me into bed, with a bloody nose and dark eye, that my room-mate gave me, who apologised for his blows on the ground that he always slept soundly, and was only partially awake when he beat me. I accepted his apology, and Goss and Greeley, and half-a-dozen attenuated Grahamites left me, for their beds again, and my chum took a seat by my cot, and strove to soothe me. But the cramps returned, and I became faint and giddy, and began to vomit profusely. I soon filled basins, pitchers, spit boxes, hats, and boots, and deluged every thing we had in the room, and my chum got a pitcher and basin in the next room, and I soon flooded them, and I vomited until I thought I felt my entire bowels struggling at my throat to get out, which nearly strangled me. At last an enormous chunk came out, which proved to be the core of a stewed apple, and the crust of Graham bread combined into a sort of petrified substance, and I began to breathe again, and slowly improved till daylight,

When I embraced a sweet repose,
And snored like thunder through my nose.
(To be continued to my last scream.)

Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator.


STEPHEN H. BRANCH’S “ALLIGATOR” CAN BE obtained at all hours, (day or night,) at wholesale and retail, at No. 128 Nassau Street, Near Beekman Street, and opposite Ross & Tousey’s News Depot, New York.

Supervisor Blunt, and Paul Julien—My Last Interview with Madame Sontag.

When I taught Alderman Orison Blunt the English branches at his elegant residence in Murray street, I gave instruction to Paul Julien, the juvenile Paganini, and to Rocco, and also to Madame Sontag in elocution, in anticipation of her appearance in English Opera at Niblo’s, on her return from Mexico. At the close of a long and interesting lesson, Sontag opened her great heart to me, and disclosed her career from her earliest recollection. Her narrative was eloquent and exciting, and as she sat before me at the parlor lattice, in alternate tears and smiles, with the moon rolling like a ball of silver through the air, she seemed too pure and beautiful for earth. Her tears were the very soul of sorrow, and none could resist their overwhelming influence,—her smiles were irresistibly enchanting,—her voice in conversation was full of entrancing melody,—her cavern dimples were the emblems of purity and charity, and her entire expression was divine. And as her blood warmed, and her bosom rose and fell, and her voice trembled and darted from the faintest whisper to its highest intonation, her glorious eyes reflected gorgeous temples in her soul, filled with sinless angels, breathing sweet music to millions of her species. And the beauteous Sontag told me, as we sat together in our last communion as human pilgrims, that her childhood, and girlhood, and early womanhood were all devoted to the cultivation of music for the enjoyment of the world more than herself, which rendered her early years an utter sacrifice, and had deprived her of the pastimes enjoyed by all her sex in the morning of life; that from the hour she was called “The little Daughter of the Danube,” there was no happiness for her; that she was early beset by lovers from nearly every nation of Europe; that kings and queens lavished their choicest treasures upon her; that princes besought her affections in tearful supplications; that all France prostrated herself at her feet; that amid the flattery and adulations of all classes and kingdoms, she was induced, in a thoughtless hour, to cast herself into the eternal embraces of a being who proved a jealous and savage tyrant, and a heartless gamester; that ere her emergence from the brief hours of bliss that should follow the marriage vow, he became odious in her eyes, and she beheld a life of misery in all her future; that after years of torture in his demon fangs, and after he had squandered her splendid fortune of four millions of dollars, he dragged her from the sacred precincts of private life, and from the pleasing society of her children, into the public arena, to toil for his subsistence; that he forced her to exchange hemispheres, and leave her tender offspring, when they most required a mother’s protection; that he often brandished a dagger in her eyes, when she refused to fill his purse for bibbling and gaming purposes; that she was in fear of his poignard throughout her long confinement in his hideous clutches; that for his traduction and persecution of Alboni in her early years, she resolved to pursue her to America to annoy, and, if possible, ruin her, for his sake, by singing against her in the leading cities; that on the very day she publicly announced her intention to visit America, Alboni went to the Cathedral, and knelt 3at the altar, and swore that she would pursue her through all latitudes, and cut the grass beneath her feet, to avenge herself on Count Rossi, who strove to blight the buds and blossoms of her youth and indigence; that she kept her oath, and followed her through city, town, and village, and allured her choristers, through extravagant salaries and donations, and sang on the evenings of her Concert and Opera entertainments, and greatly reduced her receipts; that Rossi seized her funds, as they accrued, and deposited them in banks unknown to her; that her children often wrote in vain for means to defray their domestic expenses; that Rossi, and Maretzek, and Ullman received all the benefit of her arduous labors; that her lovely daughters were in the care of strangers in Europe, and exposed to all the snares of life; that their education was fatally neglected in her absence; that she was a slave to Rossi, Maretzek, and Ullman, all of whom she thoroughly despised, and that she had very seriously contemplated suicide. And thus did this celestial being breathe her pensive music in my soul, and bathe my vision with nature’s hallowed waters. And amid our mutual tears, and smiles, and cheerful tones, and lingering glances, she enters the dismal cars, and the bell proclaims the parting signal, and she penetrates the deep perspective, until she is forever buried from my melancholy view. She gives concerts on the borders of the northern lakes, and visits Cincinnati, and quarrels and separates from Ullman, and goes to New Orleans, and performs in Opera, and enters Mexico, amid the revengeful maledictions of Ullman, who, as Rocco told me, dug her early grave, by arousing the fearful jealousy of Rossi, to whom Ullman wrote from New York, that he would find letters in her trunk from Pozzolini, the young and fascinating tenor; that Rossi did find letters in her trunk from Pozzolini, (filled with the most enthusiastic love,) which Rocco said were doubtless placed there by Ullman, prior to her departure for Mexico, to revenge himself on Sontag, for her refusal at Cincinnati to give more Concerts under his direction; that Rossi belched words of fire, and threatened her with instant death; that herself and Pozzolini were seized with violent pains, on their return from the Mexican festivals; that during her confinement, Rocco daily called, but was not permitted to see her; that Rossi paced the balcony as a sentinel for days and nights, and would let no one visit her; that he permitted Rocco to enter her apartment only one hour before she died, when he found her in the wildest delirium. And Rocco told me that Sontag and Pozzolini were doubtless poisoned by Count Rossi, and that Ullman was the instigator. Rossi artfully attributed their sudden death to cholera, but the rumor flew on the wings of lightning, that Rossi was their murderer, and he fled for his life to New York, with all her jewels, and went to Europe. And Rocco sorely grieved to see her borne to her sepulchre without kindred mourners in a far distant land; and when he saw her form exhumed, and borne through mud and stones, and deposited as luggage in the filthy suburbs of Vera Cruz, and exposed for weeks to the heat and rain of those withering latitudes,—when he gazed at the remains of a being who had been the pride and glory and adoration of all civilised nations, and who had long been his own dear friend, poor Rocco prostrated himself beside her coffin, and wept for hours in loneliness and utter desolation. And now, dear Sontag, I can see thy pure and genial spirit in its happy home, beyond the pretty stars. And while I indite these melancholy words, thy sweet face smiles upon me from my parlor wall, as you appeared in the immortal Somnambulist. It is the likeness you gave me at our final interview, and represents Amina, in the joyous bridal scene with Elvino, among her native cottagers in the mountains. All! Sontag! I often think of thee, and my highest solace is in gazing at thy bewitching smile, and laughing eyes, and lovely dimples, and even teeth, and classic temples, as depicted in thy likeness, which I shall keep while I linger in the dreary paths of earth. And I will part with fame and fortune and with life itself, ere I will separate from the precious picture of my adored Sontag. And my last prayer to God shall be, that I may join my Parents and Kindred and Sontag in the realms of eternal bliss.

James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career.

Enter John Kelly.

Bennett—Well, my lad, I have borrowed a pair of old shoes for you from my bed-fellow in Cross street. They may be rather large, but you must contrive to wear them until Saturday, when I will get you a new pair, if I have the money to spare. Sit down, Johnny, and try on the shoes.

John (puts them on)—They are much too large, aint they?

Bennett—Well, yes, but if you put some pieces of newspaper in them, you can lessen their size.

John (stuffs them in the heels and toes and sides with fragments of the Herald of the preceding day)—There, sir, I guess I can wear them now, and I am truly obliged to you for borrowing them for me.

Bennett—Not at all, John, for you did more than that for me yesterday, in obtaining my papers from Mr. Anderson.

John (in hurriedly walking across the office, steps out of one of the aged shoes, but steps in again before Bennett’s keen eyes perceived that one foot had stepped out)—That was a great pleasure, sir, and I hope you will have the same good luck to-day.

Bennett—I sold very few papers yesterday, and I have very little money, and Anderson has my watch, and I fear he will not let me have the papers until I redeem it, and pay him for the Heralds of to-day.

John—I will do all in my power to obtain them for you.

Bennett—I know you will, my dear little friend. But come—we will go and try to get the papers. (They arrive at Anderson & Ward’s, in Ann street. Anderson is absent, and Ward is partially drunk and asleep on the counter, and Bennett arouses him.)

Ward—What are you about? (rubbing his eyes and garrping.) What do you want (hic) so early in the morning, you vagabonds? hic, hec, hoc.

Bennett—I want my papers.

Ward—You can’t (hic) have them without the money, (hoc.)

Bennett—Please let me have them.

Ward—Where’s your (hic) watch?

Bennett—I let Mr. Anderson have it yesterday.

Ward—Don’t you (hic-a-che-a-che-Horatio-darn it, how I sneeze) sell any Heralds now-a-days? a-che-a-che-a-che-Horatio—O, Jerusalem! will I never stop sneezing?

Bennett—It stormed yesterday, and I did not sell many, but it is pleasant this morning, and I think I shall sell a large number.

Ward—Well, I’ll not be (hic, hic, hic,) too hard with you, old fellow. There, take your papers, and try hard (hic) to sell (hic) them to-day, and (hic-a-che) bring a whole lot of money to (hic) morrow.

Bennett—I will, Mr. Ward, and I’ll always remember you with gratitude for your generosity to-day. Good day, sir.

Ward—Farewell, old boy. And just shut the door alter you. I have been (hic) on a spree all night, (hec,) and I don’t want anybody else to come in and bother (hic) me, until I finish my nap.

Bennett—I’ll lock the door outside, and put the key in the window.

Ward—Do so, old (hic) boy, do so. (And he goes to sleep, and Bennett and John wend their way to Wall street.)

Bennett—Now, John, this is the last chance I shall have. If I fail to sell my papers to-day, I am ruined for ever.

John—Had I not better go into the stores, and try to sell the papers.

Bennett (kisses him in Nassau street)—My dear boy, if you will do that, I will love you next to my God. My great trouble has been to get honest boys to sell my paper, and return the money to me, instead of going to the Theatre and eating peanuts with my funds. Now, you take some, and I’ll take some, and you take one side of the street and I the other, and let us toil for our lives (until the sun goes down) to sell these papers, and, if we fail, my fate is sealed for time, and perhaps for eternity!

John—What! You won’t commit suicide?

Bennett—God only knows what I shall do.

John—Well, I see there’s no time to be lost. So, give me some papers, and I’ll go into the first store on this side, and you take the other side of the street. (They separate, John going into every store on his side, and Bennett into every store on the other side, until they arrive at Wall street, when they go into Bennett’s office, in the old rat hole at No. 20 Wall street, where they count their pennies, and find that they have sold quite a large number of Heralds. They then drink some water and eat some ginger nuts, for their breakfasts, and go down Broad street, and enter every store on either side, and meet with great success. John then takes South street, and Bennett Front street, from the Battery to Fulton street, and afterwards take Water and Pearl streets, and then they canvass either side of Wall street, and sell all their Heralds, and go to a Restaurant and get something to eat, and separate in the afternoon in high spirits. John then got some boys in the Fourteenth Ward to sell the Herald, and in ten days Bennett had about $40 surplus, and begins to put on aristocratic airs, and domineer over Johnny Kelly.)

(To be continued.)

For the Alligator.

Wide-mouth shocking Alligator!
I wish you were a Boa Constrictor!
And crush within your awful fold,
The villains with our pilfered gold,
Who, with sanctimonious face,
Steal with such a pious grace:
They dance and dress and call it good,
Because it gives the hungry food.
But hold your mirror to their face,
And show them their sad black disgrace:
One robs the City’s golden coffers,
And then a mighty Fabric offers,
And tries to court a worldly fame,
Out of such an impious shame.
The temple thus to science rears,
That he may surely soothe his fears,
Lest his ignorance should be known,
And lack of knowledge shown,
And so the starving, suffering poor,
He drives them fainting from his door;
And tells them: (Oh! how very strange!)
The Mansion’s taken all his change!
And in his high, majestic wrath,
He kicks a female down to earth!
The mansion he will never give,
While one heir of his shall live.
See how this modern Simon Magus,
Blinds our eyes, and then deceives us.
Soon we shall see how very funny,
He’ll make his “Union” yield him money:
He finds it is so very pretty,
To have a Mayor made of putty,
That he can mould him at his will,
To make his son an office fill.
But lest Columbia prove too new,
He lays a wire the ocean through,
That he all Europe may invite,
To bask in his resplendent sight.
Oh! most happy England Queen,
When she can say: “I’ve Peter seen!”
Now see him cringe, and jump for fame,
To reach the scroll, to write his name:
But as he lives alone for fame,
My verse will sure preserve his name.
Peter Piper Pict.

New York, June 15, 1858.

Stephen H. Branch:

Sir:—Permit me the privilege of making a few brief passing remarks, asking a few questions, and respectfully suggesting a few hints as to your weekly publication, the Alligator. Please to attribute any intrusive errors in this communication as emanating from an inefficient method of expressing my sentiments, as my heart is with you whole and entire in spirit, and, with a few exceptions, to the very letter, in your laudable endeavor to bring to light before the open day the hidden villainies of the many detestable tyrants that have risen from the very scum of poverty and criminal degradation, and who now so unaccountably hold despotic sway under the garb of honorable industry in every branch of society, to the unjust injury and oppression of the poor, humble, but honest man.

I am rejoiced to find the Alligator creeping its way to the literary tables of almost every respectable News Depot in this and the adjacent cities, piercing its deadly fangs into the very vitals of every influential thief and scoundrel, and that the business public are now availing themselves of the opportunity in patronising it as an advertising medium, and I sincerely wish you every success.

Wherever I have an opportunity, I endeavor, indirectly, to pave the way, to introduce the merits of the Alligator, and, as a matter of course, have to give and take in the various opinions expressed as to the carniverous propensities of that astonishing animal, and the choice objects it pitches into for its daily food. The opinions and ideas expressed on the subject are as varied as the colors in the rainbow. Any man whose past misdeeds trouble his conscience, dreads the animal, as he would a drawn sword, lest its brutal tusks should tear open to public gaze what he had secretly hoped was unknown to mortal being.

If the crawling reptiles you select to satisfy the craving appetite of that amphibious animal (with such extended jaws continually gaping) are really of such an abhorrent and loathsome nature as represented by you in such bold relief, I should never cease lashing their diseased and ulcerated carcases with whips of poisoned scorpions, till I purged and purified their polluted system with wholesome antidotes. It strikes me that your gormandising hydra-headed monster can never be satisfied with common carrion: it seeks for something more nutritious for its sustenance. It appears he is like Pharoah’s lean kine—the more he devours, the thinner he gets, and his rapacity increases, and what seems so singular is, that he has abundance of choice prey for ever at his side, which he selects indiscriminately, and an untold amount laid up in his store houses for ages to come.

Nothing do I admire more than the free use of strong and emphatic language to express our approbation or disapprobation of men’s actions public or private, and from the general tenor of your style, and the peculiar advantages you possess as a scholar, and the unlimited information you have treasured up as a man of experience, with regard to public characters and measures, I feel confident that you can convert every tooth of the Alligator into a poisoned arrow that will deal death and destruction into every particle of air whereever it wings its flight, and you can more effectively hit your mark with surer certainty by avoiding the use of such terms and phrases as would be looked upon by the general class of readers, as rather coarse or vulgar; although I myself consider your style as purely hieroglyphic, and that your sarcastic way merely emanates from a proud, manly, straightforward, bold and independent above board kind of a spirit than that of malice, with the view to convey the sentiments of your mind, in order to express your strong feeling of detestation and abhorrence of every unprincipled scoundrel, against whom your fiery shafts of indignation may happen to be turned, cutting to the very heart’s core like a two edged sword.

The body of the Alligator is too small by a long shot. It would greatly enhance its usefulness by being more liberal. Increase its pages, extend its columns, devote a space to correspondents, and, if need be, stretch its stomach so as to afford an opportunity to others to open their store-houses, and contribute their quota of similar wholesome food to the hungry cannibal, in order the better to assist in the process of digestion.

Yours Respectfuly,

Advertisements—25 Cents a line.

Credit—From two to four seconds, or as long as the Advertiser can hold his breath! Letters and Advertisements to be left at No. 128 Nassau street, third floor, back room.

HERRING’S PATENT CHAMPION FIRE AND BURGLAR Proof Safe, with Hall’s Patent Powder Proof Locks, afford the greatest security of any Safe in the world. Also, Sideboard and Parlor Safes, of elegant workmanship and finish, for plate, &c. S. C. HERRING & CO.,

251 Broadway.

JAMES MELENEY, (SUCCESSOR TO SAMUEL Hopper,) Grocer, and Wholesale and Retail Dealer in Pure Country Milk. Teas, Coffee, Sugars & Spices. Flour, Butter, Lard, Cheese, Eggs &c. No. 158, Eighth Avenue, Near 18th Street, New York. Families supplied by leaving their address at the Store.

BOOT & SHOE EMPORIUMS. EDWIN A. BROOKS, Importer and Manufacturer of Boots, Shoes & Gaiters, Wholesale and Retail, No. 575 Broadway, and 150 Fulton Street, New York.

DR. SMITH’S ELECTRIC OIL, CURES PAIN IN A few moments. Dr. Smith’s Electric Oil gives almost instant relief in all nervous diseases. Acute rheumatic pains need only a few applications. Dr. Smith may be consulted at the Smithsonian House, and at 91 Hudson Street. Try it.

MCSPEDON AND BAKER’S STATIONERY WAREHOUSE and Envelope Manufactory, Nos. 29, 31, and 33, Beekman Street, New York.

Envelopes of all patterns, styles and quality, on hand, and made to order for the trade and others, by Steam Machinery. Patented April 8th, 1856.

COZZENS’ HOTEL COACHES,—STABLE, Nos. 34 and 36 Canal Street, New York.

I will strive hard to please all those generous citizens who will kindly favor me with their patronage.


J. W. MASON, MANUFACTURER, WHOLESALE and Retail dealers in all kinds of Chairs, Wash Stands, Settees, &c. 377 & 379 Pearl Street, New York.

Cane and Wood Seat Chairs, in Boxes, for Shipping.

BENJAMIN JONES, COMMISSION DEALER, IN Real Estate. Houses and stores and lots for sale in all parts of the city. Office at the junction of Broadway, Seventh Avenue, and Forty-Sixth Street.

FULLMER AND WOOD CARRIAGE Manufacturers, 239 West 19th Street, New York.

Horse-shoeing done with despatch and in the most scientific manner, and on reasonable terms.

W. E. KNAPP’S NEWS DEPOT, 279 BLEEKER ST., near Barrow street. Subscriptions for Dailies, Weeklies, and Monthlies, which will be served as soon as issued.

CHEAP PERIODICAL AND PAMPHLET BINDERY, No. 50 Ann street, N. Y. F. S. Pittman, successor to H. H. Randall. Mr. Gouverneur Carr and N. S. Putnam have purchased an interest in the concern.

AUG. BRENTANO, SMITHSONIAN NEWS DEPOT, Books and Stationery, 608 BROADWAY, corner of Houston street.

Subscriptions for American or Foreign Papers or Books, from the City or Country, will be promptly attended to.

Foreign Papers received by every steamer. Store open from 6 A. M. to 11 P. M. throughout the week.

P. C. GODFREY, STATIONER, BOOKSELLER, AND General News dealer, 831 Broadway, New York, near 13th street.

At Godfrey’s—Novels, Books, &c., all the new ones cheap.
At Godfrey’s—Magazines, Fancy Articles, &c., cheap.
At Godfrey’s—Stationery of all kinds cheap.
At Godfrey’s—All the Daily and Weekly Papers.
At Godfrey’s—Visiting Cards Printed at 75 cents per pack.
At Godfrey’s—Ladies Fashion Books of latest date.

C. TYSON, CORNER OF NINTH STREET & SIXTH AVE. Has for sale all the late Publications of the day, including all the Daily and Weekly Newspapers.

SEE “JOBSON’S RED FLAG,” OF THIS DAY, FOR interesting news. Published at No. 102 Nassau Street.

JOHN B. WEBB, BOAT BUILDER, 718 WATER STREET. My Boats are of models and materials unsurpassed by those of any Boat Builder in the World. Give me a call, and if I don’t please you, I will disdain to charge you for what does not entirely satisfy you.


SAMUEL SNEDEN, SHIP & STEAMBOAT BUILDER.—My Office is at No. 31 Corlears street, New York; and my yards and residence are at Greenpoint. I have built Ships and Steamers for every portion of the Globe, for a long term of years, and continue to do so on reasonable terms.


ALANSON T. BRIGGS—DEALER IN FLOUR BARRELS, Molasses Casks, Water, and all other kinds of Casks. Also, new flour barrels and half-barrels; a large supply constantly on hand. My Stores are at Nos. 62, 63, 64, 69, 73, 75, 77 and 79 Rutger’s Slip; at 235, 237, and 239 Cherry street; also, in South and Water streets, between Pike and Rutger’s Slip, extending from street to street. My yards in Williamsburgh are at Furman & Co.’s Dock. My yards in New York are at the corner of Water and Gouverneur streets; and in Washington street, near Canal; and at Leroy Place. My general Office is at 64 Rutger’s Slip.


FULTON IRON WORKS.—JAMES MURPHY & CO., manufacturers of Marine and Land Engines, Boilers, &c. Iron and Brass Castings. Foot of Cherry street, East River.

BRADDICK & HOGAN, SAILMAKERS, No. 272 South Street, New York.

Awnings, Tents, and Bags made to order.


WILLIAM M. SOMERVILLE, WHOLESALE AND Retail Druggist and Apothecary, 205 Bleeker-st., corner Minetta, opposite Cottage Place, New York. All the popular Patent Medicines, fresh Swedish Leeches, Cupping, &c. Physicians’ Prescriptions accurately prepared.


A. W. & T. HUME, MERCHANT TAILORS. No. 82 Sixth Avenue, New York. We keep a large and elegant assortment of every article that a gentleman requires. We make Coats, Vests and Pants, after the latest Parisian fashions, and on reasonable terms.

A. W. & T. HUME.

THE WASHINGTON, By BARTLETT & GATES, No. 1 Broadway, New York. Come and see us, good friends, and eat and drink and be merry, in the same capacious and patriotic halls where the immortal Washington’s voice and laugh once reverberated.

O come to our Hotel,
And you’ll be treated well.

J. N. GENIN, FASHIONABLE HATTER, 214 Broadway, New York.

GENIN’S LADIES’ & CHILDREN’S OUTFITTING Bazaar, 513 Broadway, (St. Nicholas Hotel, N. Y.)

EDWARD PHALON & SON, 497 and 517 Broadway, New York—Depots for the sale of Perfumery, and every article connected with the Toilet.

We now introduce the “BOUQUET D’OGARITA, or Wild Flower of Mexico,” which is superior to anything of the kind in the civilized world.


EXCELSIOR PRINTING HOUSE, 211 CENTRE ST., IS furnished with every facility, latest improved presses, and the newest styles of type—for the execution of Book, Job and Ornamental Printing. Call and see specimens.

CHARLES FRANCIS, SADDLER, (ESTABLISHED IN 1808,) Sign of the Golden Horse, 39 Bowery, New York, opposite the Theatre. Mr. F. will sell his articles as low as any other Saddler in America, and warrant them to be equal to any in the World.

H. N. WILD, STEAM CANDY MANUFACTURER, No. 451 Broadway, bet. Grand and Howard streets, New York. My Iceland Moss and Flaxseed Candy will cure Coughs and Sneezes in a very short time.

JAMES GRIFFITHS, (Late CHATFIELD & GRIFFITHS,) No. 273 Grand st., New York. A large stock of well-selected Cloths, Cassimeres, Vestings, &c., on hand. Gent’s, Youths’ and Children’s Clothing, Cut and Made in the most approved style. All cheap for Cash.

J. AGATE & CO., MEN’S FURNISHING GOODS and Shirt Manufacturers, 256 Broadway, New York.

Shirts made to order and guaranteed to fit.


BILLIARD TABLES.—PHELAN’S IMPROVED BILLIARD Tables and Combination Cushions—Protected by letters patent, dated Feb. 19, 1856; Oct. 28, 1856; Dec. 8, 1857; Jan. 12, 1858. The recent improvements in these Tables make them unsurpassed in the world. They are now offered to the scientific Billiard players as combining speed with truth, never before obtained in any Billiard Table. Sales-rooms Nos. 786 and 788 Broadway, New York. Manufactory No. 53 Ann Street.

O’CONNOR & COLLENDOR, Sole Manufacturers.

S. L. OLMSTEAD, IMPORTER, MANUFACTURER and Jobber of Men’s Furnishing Goods, No. 24 Barclay Street, corner of Church, New York.

C. B. HATCH, HILLER & MERSEREAU, Importers and Jobbers of Men’s Furnishing Goods and Manufacturers of the Golden Hill Shirts. 99 Chambers Street, N. E. corner Church Street, New York.

L. A. ROSENMILLER, DRUGGIST, NO. 172 EIGHTH Avenue, New York. Cupping & Leeching. Medicines at all hours.