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Title: Stephen H. Branch's Alligator Vol. 1 no. 11, July 3, 1858
Author: Branch, Stephen H.
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Stephen H. Branch's Alligator Vol. 1 no. 11, July 3, 1858" ***

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                           Transcriber Notes

 Obvious printer errors and missing punctuation fixed. Archaic and
   inconsistent spelling retained.
 Unclear text in the ads in the original has been clarified by review of
   the same ads printed more clearly in other issues.
 The table of contents has been created and added by the transcriber.
 Italics are represented by underscores surrounding the _italic text_.
 Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.


                   Life of Stephen H. Branch.       1

                   A Melodious Fragment!            2

                   Human Devils.                    2

                   James Gordon Bennett’s           2
                     Editorial Career.

                   Peter Cooper’s Funny little      3
                     Grocery-Groggery, at the
                     Corner of the Bowery and
                     Stuyversant Street, in 1820.

                   Advertisements                   4




    Volume I.—No. 11.]    SATURDAY, JULY 3, 1858.    [Price 2 Cents.

       Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by
                           STEPHEN H. BRANCH,

       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.

McDonald Clarke had the dyspepsia badly, and would board at the Graham
House while his money lasted, and then Goss would request him to leave.
At the table he always created infinite mirth. I often met him on the
Battery, (with his pockets filled with stale Graham bread,) and at
Mercer’s Dining Saloon, at the corner of Ann and Nassau, and on the
steps of the Astor, and while rapidly promenading Broadway, with his
eyes riveted on the ground. I also saw him every Sabbath in front of Dr.
Taylor’s Grace Church, at the corner of Rector street and Broadway,
where he used to await the arrival of Miss Jones, and almost stare her
into fits, and to whom he addressed such lines as these through the
public journals:

        Her form’s elastic as a willow tree,
        Glorious in motion, when the winds are free:
        She moves with timid dignity and grace,
        While thought is thrilling through her sweet young face.

In his last days, he often came to the Graham House, and Goss was very
kind to him, and did not charge him for his meals. He called on Sunday
morning, when all were at church save myself. I was ill, in the rocking
chair, and for an hour he amused me with his incoherent flights of
eloquence, and the recitation of his choicest poetry. He came several
times during the week. On a stormy evening, while I was seated by the
stove, he rushed in and took a seat beside me, and wept aloud, and spoke
of his intense affection for Miss Jones, (the daughter of the wealthy
Banker, and President of the Chemical Bank,) whom he supposed was
ardently in love with him. He said that he had been twice invited to her
parties, but that on ringing the bell, he was twice ejected by the
servant. The cards of invitation were forgeries, but those who imposed
on McDonald, assured him that they were genuine, and were written by
Miss Jones. I strove in vain to disabuse McDonald’s mind, who said he
should make the third attempt the following week, and, if possible, he
would have an interview with the precious object of his affection. On
the afternoon of the following Sunday, he came to the Graham House, and
violently rang the bell, and dashed into the parlor, greatly excited,
and took a seat on the sofa, where I was reclining, and exclaimed: “Why,
Branch, people call me crazy. But you don’t think I’m crazy, do you,
Branch? I know you don’t. You love me, don’t you, Branch? I know you do.
Heigh ho! I’m not long for this world. I’m going to Heaven in a few
days, where I shall fare better than among the unkind people of this
world. Yes, I rambled through Greenwood, last week, by the Silver Lake,
and selected the lovely and romantic spot where my poor bones will soon
repose and wither. (His tears now began to fall like summer rain.) And
there will be the sacred bells, and the Grace Church exercises,
conducted by the pure and eloquent Dr. Taylor, and the mournful music,
and solemn procession, and the Sexton’s dreary hearse and spade, and the
pale white monument. And those who now deny me bread, and call me crazy,
and trifle with my affections, will then sadly miss me, and my beautiful
poetry, and lament my melancholy fate. And they will come and stand
before my monument in Greenwood’s Silver Dell, and weep, and profoundly
regret that they always neglected poor McDonald Clarke. Yes, Branch, I
see my snowy monument by the Silver Lake, and I shall soon be there. O
God! Yes, I shall too soon be in that dismal vale. But you will come and
see me, won’t you, Branch? I know you will. I know you will, O God! O
God! My destiny is very hard.” And he buried his face with both hands,
and cried with all the simplicity of childhood, and I strove to restrain
my tears, lest he would not cease his lamentation, if he saw my eyes
moistened with nature’s sympathising waters. And I breathed kind words
into his lacerated heart, and he leaned his head upon my shoulder, and
was silent for some minutes, when he sprang to his feet, and said he
would like a bath, and went to the bathing room. In half an hour, he
returned, went to the tea table, ate sparingly, came into the parlor,
went to the window, and knelt and prayed in whisper tones. The clouds
had suddenly dispersed, and the moon was full, whose soft rays rested on
the sad face of McDonald. He then got the Bible, and read a chapter, and
was absorbed in a second prayer, just above a whisper, when a transient
boarder (from Boston) entered the parlor, and sat on the sofa, and began
a spirited conversation with a friend who had long been waiting for him.
McDonald, while engaged in prayer, in a kneeling posture, sprang to his
feet, and rushed towards the two gentlemen in lively conversation on the
sofa, and told them that if they did not cease to laugh, and talk so
loudly, he would smite them on the spot. They were amazed and terrified,
and dared not speak. McDonald then rapidly paced the parlor, and
exclaimed: “I am only 40 years old, with nearly half the period often
allotted to man yet to run, and I am near my journey’s close.” And then,
with a sudden halt in the centre of the parlor, he again riveted his
wild eyes on the gentlemen seated on the sofa, who had excited his ire,
and stamped, and most violently exclaimed: “How dare you talk and laugh
in God’s holy hour? This is the all-glorious Sabbath, and it is
sacrilege to talk and laugh beyond a whisper. Do it again, and as sure
as my name is McDonald Clarke, I will paralyse you where you sit.
Silence, I say, (stamping,) silence!” The two gentlemen then arose, and
left the parlor, in pursuit of Mr. Goss, and McDonald went to the
window, and delivered a glowing apostrophe to the moon and stars, and
asked me to play sacred music on the piano, which I did, and he strove
to sing, but his voice was severely weakened, and nearly lost, by his
nervous excitement, and through his severe anathema of the two gentlemen
who had just left the parlor. As I played, he stood beside me, and
hummed and beat time with his hands. I closed the piano, and he went to
the window, and prayed again, and breathed the most eloquent and
touching soliloquy I ever heard. Such melting pathos and purity of
language never flowed from human lips. He rose to the highest
inspiration in his allusion to his departed mother, and his anticipated
joy at his early reunion with her in Heaven. I have always regretted
that I had no pencil and paper on this sad occasion, so that I could
have preserved his supernatural soliloquies, which impressed me with the
profoundest solemnity. Mr. Goss now came into the parlor, and asked
McDonald where he boarded, and he said he had no home. Goss then asked
him if he had any friends. He said that James Gordon Bennett was his
friend, and had been kind and generous towards him, and had given him
money and apparel, and published his poetry in the _Herald_. He also
said that he ate, and sometimes slept, at a Dentist’s in Park Place, and
that he would now go there. I asked him if I should accompany him, and
he warmly thanked me, and he put on his cloak and cap, and very
carefully adjusted his large red comforter around his neck, and took my
arm, and I accompanied him to the residence of his dentist friend in
Park Place. I rang the bell, and the servant came, and said the dentist
was out, and McDonald then shook my hand, and bade me an affectionate
good night, and walked in and closed the door, which was my last
communion with poor McDonald Clarke. I called the next day, and the
servant told me that McDonald left in half an hour after my departure on
the previous night, and had not returned. I went in pursuit of him, but
could not find him. The next I heard of him was through the newspapers,
which stated that he was found at midnight, by a Policeman, in Broadway,
near St. Paul’s Church, in a terrible storm, and in a state of raving
insanity, with his apparel partially gone,—that he was conveyed to the
Tombs,—that neither the Policemen nor any of the officers at the Tombs
knew McDonald, nor was he sane enough to disclose his name,—that on
going to feed him in the morning, his place of confinement was partially
filled with icy water, (in which he was bathing himself,) which had been
running all night, and which gave him a chill of death,—that he was
finally recognised by one of the Tombs’ officers, and conveyed to the
Alms House Hospital, where he soon died. I called to see him before he
died, but he did not know me. His reason entirely returned just prior to
his death, when he called for a custard, (of which he was always
extremely fond,) and he ate a little, and said he was glad his hour had
come, as he was tired of earth. He bade his nurse an affectionate
farewell, and died without a contortion or a moan. His sudden and pauper
death produced great excitement, and the newspapers severely lashed his
murderers, who strove to make him think that Miss Jones loved him
dearly, and had invited him to her aristocratic parties. But the names
of the villains were not published, (as they should have been,) because
they belonged to the upper circles. Some kind friends erected a monument
to his memory, on the very spot McDonald had selected, by the Silver
Lake in Greenwood, for which they received much praise. And thus closes
my sad allusion to poor McDonald Clarke.

                   (To be continued to my last sun.)


                         A Melodious Fragment!


READER:—Did you ever behold the tumultuous excitement of the populace at
a Race Course, as the furious steeds neared the judge’s stand on the
last heat? Then go and see Gazzaniga’s reflection of the passions at the
Academy of Music, and behold the glow and palor, and joy and terror, and
stamps and screams of the excited and enraptured multitudes. Did you
ever see the moon emerge from a tranquil ocean, or the sun descend a
wild horison? Then see Gazzaniga. Did you ever see a peerless virgin at
the altar, or on her journey to the sepulchre? Then see Gazzaniga. Do
you remember the merry laugh of childhood, or your fond mother’s gentle
tones? Then see Gazzaniga. Do you lament Ophelia’s sadness and mournful
destiny, and the fatal grief of Portia at the absence of Brutus? Then
see Gazzaniga. Do you love the murmurs of the rivulet, or of summer
zephyrs on the moonlight waters? Then see Gazzaniga. Do you love the
melody of the birds, and the hues of the pastures, and the romance of
the forest, and the perfume of the foliage, and the silence of the
wilderness, and the beauty of the vales, and the majesty of the
mountains? Then see Gazzaniga. Do you love the security of a calm, or
the sublimity of a storm? Then see Gazzaniga. Have you seen Niagara or
Vesuvius, and admired and trembled in their glorious and awful presence?
Then see Gazzaniga. Have you read and dreamed of Antony and Cleopatra?
Then see Brignoli and Gazzaniga. Have you read Cæsar’s hatred of Cassius
and Horace Greeley, and his love of Matsell and fat men? Then see Ullman
and Armodio. Do you love to roam in dells and caves and deserts? Do you
love the pensive meditations of genius in cavern solitudes? Do you love
to gaze at Heaven’s Panorama, in the silence and glory of midnight? Do
you love your parent’s admonitions, and the sweet tones of your brothers
and sisters, and wives and children? Do you remember your early love,
and pleasant rambles with your devoted and beauteous Juliet? Do you love
to witness the reflection of your own heart? Do you love to shed tears
of joy at the triumph of the virtuous, and to paralyse the vicious with
your terrible execrations? Have you breathed Italian skies, and wandered
by Italian streams, and fondly lingered on Italian sunsets? O then go
and see and hear Gazzaniga, whose mighty soul reflects the smiles and
tears—lovers and misanthropes—beauties and melodies—calms and
storms—rainbows and landscapes—plains and mountains—cataracts and
volcanoes—thunder and lightning—rain and hail—tornadoes and
earthquakes—witches and angels—devils and demons—ghosts and hobgoblins,
and suns and globes and caravans of Universal Nature. O Gazzaniga! Thy
tranquil music is the echo of a Choir of Angels, and thy frenzied strain
is the yell of a gang of devils. More than a thousand millions of human
pilgrims rove in the romantic paths of earth, but in all this mighty
throng, on its march to a common sepulchre, there is but one Gazzaniga
in the delightful realms of melody.

                     Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator.


                   NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JULY 3, 1858.


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.


                             Human Devils.

Some $10,000 have been expended in building fences, and improving the
forest grounds at the corner of Fourteenth and Fifteenth streets and the
Sixth Avenue? We have received a card, heralding a “Palace Garden,”
signed by De Forest and Tisdale, Proprietors. Mr. De Forest was the
Treasurer of the Crystal Palace Ball, and Mr. Tisdale is the Treasurer
of the Hunter Woodis Benevolent Society. A few loaves of John Hecker’s
bread, distributed among the poor, was the only charitable result of the
Academy of Music Ball, and none of John Hecker’s bread, nor of any
baker, nor any necessaries of life were distributed among the indigent,
as the result of the mighty and lucrative Crystal Palace Ball. Both of
those Balls were given by the public—for the benefit of the Poor—in the
name of the self-constituted members of the Hunter Woodis Society, and
De Forest and Tisdale, who control the vast receipts of that Society,
now open an Ice Cream and Lager Bier Saloon on a scale of unprecedented
magnitude and magnificence, while the poor creatures are starving, who
own all the surplus funds in the vile grasp of the Hunter Woodis
Society, and of the outside scamps, who partially control those pauper
funds. De Forest and Tisdale (who thrice cunningly assured me that all
the members of the Hunter Woodis Society were Know Nothings) beckoned me
last week to their gorgeous chariot on Broadway, and told me that they
were “snags,” and through dagger eyes, and ferocious gestures, and
stunning declamation, threatened my utter annihilation, for my recent
exposure of their plunder of our generous citizens, and the private
paupers, whose funds they withhold and squander. If one of the huge
villains of these devilish days in which my lot is cast approaches me
with menacing look or attitude, he will be a dead thief before he can
implore the God of truth and justice and mercy to forgive him for his
awful crimes. Where the $40,000 that were doubtless received by the
Managers and Treasurers of the Academy of Music and Crystal Palace
Balls; and where their vast private collections have all mysteriously
vanished, will never be disclosed to the poor of this, nor of coming
generations, but, at the Throne of God, these consummate villains and
infernal scamps will have to confront the famishing creatures they have
robbed and starved, when they will be convicted, and condemned, and
hurled from Heaven’s resplendent heights into a gulph of yelling devils,
who will pinch them, and prick them, and bite them, and lance them, and
roast them through wasteless ages.

                 O, what I hear, and what I see,
                 Makes me from earth yearn to be free.


                James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career.

                       _Bennett and John Kelly._

_Bennett_—John, the wall cracked again yesterday, and I fear this old
ruin will soon fall, and bury us in death. So, after you have folded
those papers, you can take them and the broom, and I will take my
memorandum book and easy slippers, and we will go to the new quarters
that I hired yesterday in Broadway. The rent is very cheap, and I am not
to pay it until the end of the month, which is a godsend in these days
of poverty.

_John_—I have only got fifty papers to fold, and I will soon be ready.

_Bennett_—Hurry, Johnny, for the building may fall before we get out.
(John folds papers mighty fast.)

_John_—I am ready, sir.

_Bennett_—Come on then. (They depart for Broadway, with all their
luggage, consisting of fifty _Heralds_, a broom, memorandum book, and
Bennett’s easy slippers.)

                           _Enter Landlord._

_Landlord_—Mr. Bennett, I told you that you could pay your rent at the
end of the month, but I have concluded to require it in advance.

_Bennett_—I have not the money to spare, but I will let you have my
watch as security.

_Landlord_—I have no pawnbroker’s license, and I fear it would be a
violation of the law to take a watch in pawn.

_Bennett_—I have let Anderson & Ward have it as security for the payment
of my papers some fifty times, and they have not been arrested.

_Landlord_—Is it gold or silver?


_Landlord_—What is its value?

_Bennett_—Twenty dollars.

_Landlord_—Does it keep good time?

_Bennett_—It goes well, don’t it, Johnny (giving him a wink.)

_John_—Yes, sir. (May God forgive me for this lie.)

_Landlord_—I will take it, but you must try to pay the rent before the
close of the month.

_Bennett_—I will, sir. Our circulation is rapidly increasing, ain’t it,

_John_ (pale as death)—Y-e-s, s-i-r. (O, Heavenly Father, do forgive me
for another lie.)

_Landlord_—Good day, Mr. Bennett, and may success attend your

_Bennett_—Good by, sir, but don’t call again until the very last week in
the month.

_Landlord_—I will be as lenient as I can. Good day. (He goes.)

_Bennett_—John, why did you say y-e-s, s-i-r? This is no time to drawl
your words. And I saw your lips quiver, and your eyes and arms directed
to Heaven, as though you were engaged in silent prayer. This won’t do,
sir. My case is desperate. Can’t you lie, in matters of business,
without invoking the celestial pardon? If you can’t, you will soon ruin
me. What say you, John?

_John_—My parents will not let me tell lies. They would kill me, if they
caught me in the two lies I have told for you to-day. They are extremely
indigent, but they are as honest as poor Burns, the great poet of your
native land, who said:

                  “The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
                  Is king o’ men for a’ that.”

And who also said:

                  “O, wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
                  To see oursels as ithers see us!”

_Bennett_ (stamping the floor)—Darm it, boy, this is no time for poetry.
Hang Burns, who was an old fool, and lived on air, like all the poets. I
prefer Richard, who said:

                      “I have set my life upon a cast,
                And I will stand the hazard of the die.”

Or Iago:

                                “This is the night,
              That either makes me, or fordoes me quite.”

Or Ophelia, with whose beautiful aphorism I closed my leading editorial,
in the first number of the _Herald_:

                     “Lord, we know that we are,
                     But know not what we may be.”

But darm the rhyme. We want bread and butter. I have been starving on
truth and poetry, and I intend to lie, and cheat, and black mail, during
the residue of my days. Do you understand me?

_John_—Yes, sir, but I can’t lie. I had rather be poor, and tell the
truth, than lie, and cheat, and wrong my fellow creatures, and be
loathed by my parents, and be despised by myself, and by others, and
have sleepless nights, and be in constant fear of death, and be in
danger of a prison or the scaffold. So, you had better get another boy.

_Bennett_—I am sorry to part with you, dear Johnny, because you have
been so true and kind to me.

_John_—I would like to remain, but I must leave, if you require me to
lie. And yet I dread to inform my poor father and mother that I have
left you, and have no means to aid them. But I had rather go hungry than
tell lies, and I hope and believe that my parents will forgive me for
leaving you.

_Bennett_—I fear you are too conscientious to be my associate in the
reckless and unscrupulous career of journalism before me, and therefore
I shall advertise for another boy to-morrow.

_John_—Very well, sir. (John takes his hat to go.)

_Bennett_—Don’t go until I get another boy.

_John_—I must go now, because you have proclaimed yourself a dishonest
man, and I should be unhappy if I remained longer in your presence.

_Bennett_—How much do I owe you?


_Bennett_—Yes I do.

_John_—You can have it, because I fear you did not get it honestly, and
I do not want it. (John goes.)

_Bennett_ (soliloquises)—This boy’s rebuke is terrible. And now I am
alone. O God! if I only had his integrity, I would make any sacrifice.
That boy has got the principles of Washington in his breast, and the
world will hear of him. No earthly power can crush the love of truth in
the heart of that dear little boy. And now what shall I do? His merited
castigation has unnerved and unmanned me. I know not which way to turn.
I have but little money. I cannot get another boy so faithful as Johnny.
I must strive to sell my papers in the stores alone, now that Johnny is
gone, and, if I fail, I am forever ruined. But this won’t do. I must not
despair. I must rally. (He arises, and paces his office rapidly, with
compressed jaws and lips, and distended nostrils, and clenched fingers,
and ferocious gesticulation.) I must not whine now. I must cut and
smash, and detract and terrify the innocent, and levy thousands on the
affluent, or I am forever lost. I have no associate, nor friend, nor
kindred in all this land, and I can only degrade myself, as my aged
parents are in the deep mountain glades of Scotland, and can never hear
of my degradation. So I will be a devil. I will advertise for another
boy, and if I get one who will conspire with me in my contemplated
villainy, my fortunes will yet be vast. (He writes an advertisement, and
puts it in the _New York Sun_.)

                           (To be continued.)

   Peter Cooper’s Funny little Grocery-Groggery, at the Corner of the
                Bowery and Stuyversant Street, in 1820.

                       PETER BEHIND THE COUNTER.

                        _Enter Female Customer._

_Customer_—I want two candles, and a quart of soft soap, and a pint of

_Peter_—There’s the candles, and there’s the soap, and now I will get
the gin. (Measures it.) And there’s the gin.

_Customer_—Put it all down on the book.

_Peter_—I will only put it on the slate, as I want you to pay me by
Saturday evening.

_Customer_—O, certainly. (She goes.)

                         _Enter Jim, a Darkey._

_Jim_—Mr. Cooper, I want a plug of tobacco, and a glass of rum, and I
will pay you on Saturday night, when I get my week’s wages.

_Peter_—I can’t trust any more to-day, as I have just let a woman have
some candles, soap, and gin on credit, and I shall ruin myself if I
trust so much as I have recently. My capital is very small, and my
credit is so bad that I have to pay cash for nearly all I buy, and if I
trust much, I shall have to fail again, and shut up my little shop for
ever. So, Jim, I can’t trust you any more.

_Jim_—Then I will trade elsewhere. I have been drinking your rum for a
long time, and I have always paid you for it, and I have got drunk many
a time on your rum, and now you won’t let me have a glass on credit. You
must have an iron heart.

_Peter_—Jim, you have drunk a large quantity of rum at my bar, and you
have always paid me for it, as you declare, but I am going to turn over
a new leaf, and trust no more. But if you will promise never to ask me
to trust you again, I will let you have as nice a glass of rum as you
ever drank.


_Peter_—(pours out some cheap and nasty rum, and squats down behind the
counter so that Jim can’t see him, and adulterates it about two-thirds
with old Manhattan water, that had been in the pitcher all day)—There’s
your rum, Jim, and now drink it, and enjoy yourself.

_Jim_—(drinks, and can hardly taste the nasty rum, and makes wry
faces,)—How much bilge water did you put in this mean rum, and how much
do you intend to put down on the slate against me for this disgusting
dose of rum and water?

_Peter_—That is nice rum, Jim, and I shall charge you my usual price of
three cents a glass.

_Jim_—Take that, and that, and that, you stingy old villain. (Throws
most of the rum and water into his face, and strikes him twice, and
knocks him down, and runs down the Bowery.)

_Peter_ (solus and nose bleeding profusely)—I fear the black rascal has
broken my nose and ribs, and blackened my eyes badly. I will close the
shop, and go and see a physician, and I suppose I shall have to run up
quite a Doctor’s bill before my wounds are entirely healed. (Shuts the
shop and goes to an Apothecary.)

_Peter_—Doctor, nigger Jim has just struck me several times with all his
might, and I fear he has mutilated me for life. Just examine my nose and
ribs, Doctor, and dress my nose and eyes as soon as possible, so that
they will soon heal.

_Doctor_—Why did Jim strike you?

_Peter_—Well, Doctor, he wanted some rum on credit, and because I
hesitated, and finally gave him some very poor rum (rather freely
adulterated), to get rid of him, he got angry, and threw the rum and
water in my face, and then most cruelly beat me.

_Doctor_—Mr. Cooper, why don’t you stop selling rum, and especially to
such low characters as nigger Jim?

_Peter_—O, I can’t stop selling rum, as I make more profit on that than
any thing else. In fact, it is nearly all profit, if properly and
judiciously adulterated.

_Doctor_—But don’t you impoverish and degrade and render vicious all to
whom you sell your poisonous alcohol, and expose their wives and
children to all the horrors of poverty, and the brutal ferocity and
insanity of a drunken father?

_Peter_—O, I don’t know any thing about all that. All I know, as a
business man, is, that I get a mighty large profit on my rum, and if my
customers get drunk, and abuse and starve their families, and commit
theft or murder, that is their fault, and I shall not be responsible for
it here, nor hereafter.

_Doctor_—I fear you view this matter altogether in the light of

_Peter_ (terribly cornered)—Doctor, no more of this. I have come to have
you examine and dress my wounds, and if you can’t do it, without a
tedious homily on temperance, I will go to the other Apothecary, down
the Bowery, who has long been your rival, and would like the job mighty
well. (This was a clincher, and smashed the Doctor’s impregnable

_Doctor_—That is all true, Mr. Cooper, and I will discharge my painful
duty. Here, Samuel, bring me some warm water. (Washes Peter’s bloody
nose and dark eyes, and dresses them. He then feels of his bruised ribs,
and finds them unbroken, though very sore and inflamed.)

_Peter_—Doctor, what is your charge?

_Doctor_—Twenty-five cents.

_Peter_—Business is very dull now, and your rival Apothecary, down the
Bowery, would not have charged more than twenty cents. Can’t you take
twenty, Doctor?

_Doctor_—Twenty will do, if you will promise to come again, when nigger
Jim beats you.

_Peter_ (very slightly blushes)—I will certainly come again, when I have
any more business in the Apothecary line. (Gives the Doctor an old
pistareen, and departs, with poultices and bandages over his eyes and

                            SUNDAY EVENING.

_Peter’s Groggery full of political strikers and vagabonds and criminals
  of every hue—A primary election to come off early in the morning._

_Peter_—Now, boys, I want you to put me through to-morrow.

_Thieves_—We will—we will.

_Peter_—If you will, I’ll give you all the most glorious drunk you have
had since the last election.

_Head Thief_—We will elect a majority of our friends to the Convention,
and you may regard your nomination as sure.

_Peter_—Give me your hand on that delightful news, and now, boys, what
are you going to drink? As it is Sunday evening, and as some of the
stiff old deacons will soon be coming by on their way to Church, I will
close my shop doors, and then we will all sit down, and drink and smoke
until daylight appears, so that you can be earlier than our adversaries
at the polls, and put in a handful or two of ballots before the polls
open. What say you?

_Jack_ (one of the primary inspectors)—Go it, Peter,—you are the boy for
me. I put in a large handful of ballots with your name on them half an
hour since.

_Peter_—That’s the talk, my lad. I will remember you for that, if I’m
elected. (Closes the doors, and brings jug of rum.) Now, boys, fill
yourselves to your throats with rum, and in the mean time, I’ll get some
crackers and cheese.

_Thieves_ (all drink like fish while Peter is after the crackers and

                   (To be continued for a long time.)

T. B. JOHNSTON has a complimentary benefit at Wallack’s Theatre on
Saturday evening, the 26th of June. I shall go early, and take a front
seat, and enjoy his extraordinary comicalities, and I advise all to
follow my example.


                    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.


WAREHOUSE, 70 and 72 Bowery, between Canal and Hester sts., New York.
Large and elegant assortment of Youths’ and Boys’ Clothing.

                                                        F. B. BALDWIN,
                                                         J. G. BARNUM.

F. B. BALDWIN has just opened his New and Immense Establishment. THE
CHILDREN’S CLOTHING, recently manufactured by the best workmen in the
city, is now opened for inspection. Also, a superior stock of FURNISHING
GOODS. All articles are of the Best Quality, and having been purchased
during the crisis, WILL BE SOLD VERY LOW! The Custom Department contains
the greatest variety of CLOTHS, CASSIMERES, and VESTINGS.

Mr. BALDWIN has associated with him Mr. J. G. BARNUM, who has had great
experience in the business, having been thirty years connected with the
leading Clothing Establishments of the city.


THOMAS A. DUNN, 506 EIGHTH AVENUE, has a very choice assortment of
Wines, Brandies, Cordials, and Segars, which he will sell at prices that
will yield a fair profit. All my democratic friends, and my immediate
associates in the Boards of Aldermen and Councilmen are respectfully
invited to call in their rambles through Eighth Avenue, and enjoy a good
Havana segar, and nice, sparkling champagne, and very exhilerating
brandy. For the segars, I will charge my political friends and
associates only five pence each, and for the brandy only ten pence per
half gill, and for the champagne only four shillings a glass, or two
dollars a bottle.

                So call, kind friends, and sing a glee,
                And laugh and smoke and drink with me,
                              Sweet Sangaree
                              Till you can’t see:
                    (_Chorus_)—At your expense!
                              (Which pays my rents,)
                For my fingers do you see
                O’er my nose gyrating free?

                                THOMAS A. DUNN, No. 506 Eighth avenue.


J. VAN TINE, SHANGAE RESTAURANT, No. 2, Dey street, New York.


COREY AND SON, MERCHANT’S EXCHANGE, Wall street, New York—Notaries
Public and Commissioners—United State’s Passports issued in 36
hours,—Bills of Exchange, Drafts, and Notes protested,—Marine protests
noted and extended.

                                                       EDWIN F. COREY,
                                                   EDWIN F. COREY, JR.


CARLTON HOUSE, 496 BROADWAY, NEW York. Bates and Holden, Proprietors.

                                                     THEOPHILUS BATES.
                                                       OREL J. HOLDEN.


BOWERY NEWS DEPOT, NO. 177 BOWERY.—Constantly on hand, Daily, Sunday and
Weekly Papers, Monthly Magazines, Play Books, stationary, &c. &c.
English Papers per Steamers. All orders punctually attended to.

                                                     BENNETT & CARROLL


TRIMMING MANUFACTURERS.—B. S. YATES & CO., 639 Broadway, New York.

                 Fringes, Cords, Tassels, Loops, Gimps,
                            and Gimp Bands.


GERARD BETTS & CO., AUCTION AND Commission Merchants, No. 106, Wall
street, corner of Front street, New York.


JAMES DONNELLY’S COAL YARD,—Twenty-sixth street and Second Avenue. I
always have all kinds of coal on hand, and of the very best quality,
which I will sell as low as any other coal dealer in the United States.

                                                       JAMES DONNELLY.


FOLEY’S CELEBRATED “GOLD PENS.” For sale by all Stationers and

                          OFFICE AND STORE,
                                163 BROADWAY.


AMERICAN GLASS COMPANY, MANUFACTURE and keep constantly on hand at their
Warehouse, Plain, Moulded, and Cut Flint Glass Ware, in all its
varieties. Also, Druggists’ and Perfumers’ Ware of all Kinds. Wholesale
Warehouses, No. 163 Pearl street, New York, and 54 Kilby street, Boston.
(Factories at South Boston.) D. Burrell & Co., Agents, New York.


W. W. OSBORN, MERCHANT TAILOR, 9 Chamber street, near Chatham street,
New York.


JNO. WARD, JR., REAL ESTATE AGENT, Offices No. 5 Tryon Row, corner
Chatham St., (opposite the Park,) New York, and 4th Avenue, near 126th
street, Harlem.


ROBERT ONDERDONK—THIRTEENTH Ward Hotel, 405 and 407 Grand street, corner
of Clinton street, New York.


MRS. S. S. BIRD’S LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S Dining and Oyster Saloons, No.
31 Canal street, near East Broadway, and 264 Division street, New York.

                       Oysters Pickled to Order.


WILLIAM M. TWEED, CHAIR, & OFFICE Furniture Dealer and Manufacturer,

No. 289 Broadway, corner of Read street, New York. Room No. 15.


TRUSSES, ELASTIC STOCKINGS, SHOULDER Braces, Supporters, Bandages, &c.
H. L. Parsons, E. D. Office, 4 Ann street, under the Museum.


FASHION HOUSE.—JOSEPH HYDE PROPRIETOR, corner Grand and Essex street.
Wines, Liquors, and Cigars of the best brands. He invites his friends to
give him a call. Prompt and courteous attention given his patrons.


negotiated, Houses and Stores Rented, Stocks and Bonds Sold at Auction
or Private Sale.

Also, FURNITURE SALES attended to at private houses. Office, 14 Pine
street, under Commonwealth Bank.


AUGUST BRENTANO, CORNER OF HOUSTON street & Broadway, has all the latest
Publications, and receives all the Foreign Papers by every steamer. He
also has the back numbers of almost every paper published, including
Branch’s “_Alligator_.”


street, New York. Any business entrusted to his charge from citizens of
this city or any part of the country, will receive prompt and faithful
attention, and be conducted on reasonable terms.

                                                   WILLIAM A. CONKLIN.


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 MELENFY, (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


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.


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,


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.

                                                     EDWARD VAN RANST.


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

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.


Pittman, successor to H. H. Randall. Mr. Gouverneur Carr and N. S.
Putnam have purchased an interest in the concern.


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


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.

                                                        SAMUEL SNEDEN.


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.

                                                         JOHN B. WEBB.


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.

                                                    ALANSON T. BRIGGS.


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.

                                                    JESSE A. BRADDICK,
                                                        RICHARD HOGAN.


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

                                                    WM. M. SOMERVILLE.


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.

                                                     BARTLETT & GATES.


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


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 any thing of the kind in the civilized world.

                                                  EDWARD PHALON & SON.


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.


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.


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.



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.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Stephen H. Branch's Alligator Vol. 1 no. 11, July 3, 1858" ***

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