THIRTY YEARS AGO. CHAPTER I. A scene in the Park, and a walk on the Battery. "After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live." "They'll take suggestions as a cat laps milk."-Shakspeare. "Nor numbers, nor example, with him wrought WHOEVER has been in the city of New-York, the great centre of the commerce of the western world, must remember the marble front of the hall of justice, or City Hall. Standing on the highest ground which the democratic system of filling up hollows by levelling hills, or lifting the low by removing the superfluity of the high, has left to the great commercial metropolis. Lifting its stainless face in the midst of catalpas and elms, poplars and sycamores, the pride of our forests, this structure, towers,-like the protecting genius of the land, inviting strangers to take shelter under the guardianship of law, and promising protection to the oppressed of all nations. It was on a fine day in the October of 1811, about the hour of noon, when the sun was shining bright and giving a dazzling lustre to the front of this building, that two gentlemen came from within, and descending the flight of stairs with the gay, elastic and careless step of youth, bent their way down the centre avenue of the enclosure, in eager conversation; only interrupted by occasional bursts of laughter. It was plain that they were not of the tribe to which this building seems principally consigned the men of the law-there was not the hurried step, nor the thought-pressed brow; neither were they of the class of jurors dragged reluctantly from their own immediate affairs to pass upon the interests, or the lives, or liberties of others: nor were they litigious clients, filled with doubts and fears of the law's uncertainty, or vexed by its delay-they were light and joyous as the day, (and what American knows not the beauty of an October day,) and appeared to defy or be unconscious of the existence of laws, judges, or jurors, except as their protectors from wrong. They were tastefully and fashionably dressed, and the shortest, who was not quite six feet in height, was a model of manly beauty; his companion was of the square herculean form, full six feet high, with the nose of a Roman Caesar, the eye of a Spanish contrabandista, and the complexion of a Circassian belle. The trees of the Park, for so the enclosure is called, were yet loaded with foliage, which the early frosts had changed from the uniform verdant livery of summer, to the motley brilliancy which distinguishes our autumnal scenery, presenting every tint from gaudy yellow to deep purple, through the intermediate shades of orange and scarlet; from the brightest golden hue, through various grades to the dusky brown, which denotes the speedy separation of the leaves from their parent stock, and return to that state in which they become its food. To such of the busy citizens as, in crossing this triangular pleasure-ground, find leisure to think of nature, this imperfect glimpse of the beauties of American landscape might recall other more variegated pictures; the scenery of our mountains, forests, and prairies: but these young men were not, at the moment our story begins, thinking of woods and wilds-the beauties of nature occupied their thoughts, but they were beauties of a higher order, though as fleeting as the changing foliage under which they loitered, laughed and lounged. They walked half-way down the centre avenue and stopped, as if without sufficient motive either to proceed or return; meanwhile the more Apollo-like gallant sported with a terrier dog that followed him, and who was addressed by the familiar appellation of "Billy." After a few minutes of this wanton idling they, dog and all, bent their way again towards the hall of justice; appearing to look for some one to join them from thence, and they had nearly reached the portico when two very dissimilar figures came out of the front door of the theatre apparently from the box-office, and within view of the first-mentioned pair. The Park theatre, as we all know, being in its position opposite, or nearly so, to the hall of justice. The walk to and from the hall took some minutes, notwithstanding that John Duncan, a Scotch traveller and A.B., says the enclosure we have praised only contains half an acre. ever our North-British friend should be condemned for his sins If to make a pilgrimage of the circumference of his half acre, his shoes lined with peas, we doubt not that he will be happy to take a hint from a brother pilgrim and penitent, of former days, and be especially careful to have them well boiled. A long loud laugh on the part of one of the first mentioned gentlemen was followed by, "He cannot certainly think of marrying her. Her personal attractions are not great, although her professional skill and talents may be deemed so; besides, she's a foot taller than little Spiff. They might play the giantess and Tom Thumb. And her mysterious conduct in regard to Trowbridge, both before and after his death, is too notorious to allow of such an alliance with a man of Spiffards correct way of thinking." "But," said the other, who was no less a personage than Thomas Apthorpe Cooper, the justly celebrated histrion; "She bears the name of a man high in his profession as a tragedian, and Spiff may know nothing of her story, as he came to New-York after Trowbridge's death, and long subsequent to the affair to which you allude." "He was then, and for some years before, in England,” said the other. "Hilson knew him there," said the tragedian, “See, he is coming out of the theatre with his friend Tam.” As we mention the names of two well-known personages, and shall hereafter in the course of our narrative frequently introduce more of the same description, let us pause for explanation. When we call a character by the name of a real person, dead or alive, still the actions of such character, as connected with this tale, are in general purely imaginary; and the deeds, thoughts and words imputed to him or her, mere inventions of the author's brain, meant to give point to the moral of his story, or add to the amusement of his readers. As Walter Scott makes use of the names of Cromwell, Charles Stuart, Ireton, Claverhouse, Montrose and others to decorate his characters withal, so we in our humble history of domestic life, take those of Cooke, Cooper, Hilson and other mimic heroes and and mimic villains, for our purposes, as well as some well known names of politicians and professional men of that time. If the action or incident attributed to the person is real, the reader may look for a note indicating it to be so. But we will not, if we have any skill in our vocation, appropriate actions to any one, bearing the name of a real personage, which shall be at variance with the general character of the person from whom the name is borrowed; although we might plead in ex cuse that, the great Scotch novelist has made the greatest man in England play the part of commander of a sergeant's guard, or a bailiff with a search warrant, when he (Oliver Cromwell) was in possession of supreme power. Once for all, we protest that this real history is an unreal mockery as it respects characters and events: all is a fabricated tissue wrought by the brain, or the imagination, from the materials collected during a long and variegated life. But as all images must have had existence from previous impressions made by realities, the fantastic combination, which we intend to present, may leave a lesson of profit on the memory, for the reader's conduct in real life. For we do believe that our book contains true pictures of human nature, and that the actions therein described are the actions of men and women, appropriate to real men and women in similar circumstances, and that the consequences we attribute to the actions of our imaginary characters are the result of such actions, and will ever result from them. Therefore is our book, although a novel and a fiction, a book of truth; calculated to amend the heart, while it enlists the imagination under the colours of fancy. But to proceed.-The tragedian and his companion, having again turned, had reached one of the avenues of the Park on the east side, and were in full view of the theatre. The herculean gentleman took a quizzing glass from his pocket and applying it to one eye, said, "It is Spiff and Tam, sure enough. Suppose you introduce the subject of the lady, and the world's babble about her, to show Spiff that we have heard something, if he has not." "We shall have some sport "Agreed," said the tragedian. at any rate. It will be nuts for Tam.” The two gentlemen from the theatre had now advanced to the gate of the park opposite Beekman-street, and were entering the enclosure. As one of the new-comers is the principal actor in our Drama, and as both once were the very soul of hilarity-the delight of the laughter-loving throngs who crowd play-houses to see the creatures of Shakspeare and Sheridan, Coleman and O'Keefe to gaze at scenes of imaginary magnificence, and forget the poverty they have left at home; as both are important to the readers of this work, and one the very pivot on which all our machinery turns, we will introduce them by a graphic description of their persons. Zebediah Spiffard, or as his companions familiarly called him, "Zeb. Spiff." was in height rather less than five feet five inches. He was remarkably square and muscular, at the same time that he looked attenuated from the absence of all those unctuous particles which give plumpness and swelling contour to persons who like him are possessed of youth, and endowed with health, strength and activity. There was no rounding of feature or limb; all was angular and sharp. His head was large and thickly covered with coarse sandy hair, (or rather a bright orange red,) and his face was long enough for a man of six feet. This face was in every feature, and in the physiognomical combination (if we may be allowed the expression) truly remarkable. The forehead was low, the eyebrows bushy, strongly marked, and almost meeting; they were attached to powerful muscles, and could be moved in various directions: his eyes were large and prominent; the colour of the iris hazle, naturally bright, but so covered by the upper lid, as, when not animated by passion, or excited by mirth, to appear sleepy and lifeless; yet occasionally full of fire; and capable, in concert with the flexible brows, of great comic expression, as well as strong and concentrated marks of emotion. The nose belonging to this extraordinary face was thin, high, and extremely hooked; with wide, ever-moving nostrils. The cheeks hollow, freckled, and pale; the mouth wide, lips thin, and bloodless; teeth long, regular and white; the chin square, yet sharp, having an edge though no point: in short, such a combination of feature and limb in face and person, was never seen before nor since. Spiffard's gait was as singular as his physiognomy. His step was long, slow, and slouching; and although he bore his head erect (as most short people do) he walked with his body bent a little forward at every stride. His voice was strong and clear; usually pitched high, but of great compass; and his enunciation was deliberate and distinct in conversation, but on the stage, in such characters as required the effort, it was uncommonly rapid, without losing force or distinctness. was Zebediah Spiffard, a Yankee by birth, and a water-drinker in practice. Such Spiffard's companion at this time was Thomas Hilson; who, in appearance was a contrast to the Yankee water-drinker, though in height and breadth nearly the same, probably an inch or two taller. His frame well proportioned to his head. His muscles full and round. All his form indicating power without the hardness of his companion's. His dark hair curled naturally and gracefully. His forehead was high and white. His eyes small, black, and laughing. His nose far from prominent, and partaking of the rubies of his cheeks and mouth, which both glowed with the richest natural carmine that health could be |