Part 3

Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator.

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MAY 29, 1858.

DEGRADATION.—Mayor Tiemann walked arm in arm with George W. Matsell, in front of the City Hall, (while the former reviewed the Eighth Ward Police,) to the disgust of private citizens and the policemen themselves. We recently intimated that Peter Cooper, James W. Gerard, Ambrose C. Kingsland, and Mayor Tiemann were afraid of Matsell’s Black Book. Tiemann’s review of the Police, leaning on the arm of Matsell, (with Tallmadge ]coldly neglected in the background,) partially corroborates our assertion with reference to the Mayor. And we believe that Matsell could make Tiemann take his arm and parade in worse localities than the Park, and could make him kiss his big toe, or force him to degrade himself, or distribute his vast patronage as the alien perjurer, and inhuman abjurer of his native land demanded.

What induced Frank Leslie to attack the Milkmen? To make money from the sale of his nauseous pictures. And thus benificence flows from mercenary minds. Leslie is a British alien, and cares far less about American cows and milk, and poisoned infants, than the American dollar. The town is in a perfect uproar about rat’s bane milk, but all will soon be as placid as a summer sea. Gilded metal will soon heal the human palm of all its ills. We have witnessed these milk spasms all our days, and we lived near the Sixteenth street depot, many years ago, and nearly died from the poisonous atmosphere. Let fathers and mothers, and grandfathers and grandmothers assemble at these murderous depots, and saturate the guts of the proprietors with their bloody and scabby milk poison, and then put them in a pillory, and pelt them with rotten eggs, and then tie them to a whipping post, and give them a thousand lashes, with cow tails, until their hacks are raw down to their bone and marrow. And we doubt if even this terrible scourge would drive them from their fatal avocation. For years on years our most respectable citizens have petitioned the Common Council to destroy these poisonous milk establishments, but their proprietors have always united and bought a majority of the members of the Common Council to refuse their just and humane petitions. And where is Ex-Mayor Havemeyer, who has resided within a stone’s throw of the Sixteenth street cow establishment for twenty successive years? He, alone, could have released those poor dumb animals, and have saved the lives of ten thousand infants. And we had rather incur the perils of twenty murderers at the bar of God, than the mysterious and incredible leniency of Ex-Mayor Havemeyer towards the milk assassins, who have committed their deeds of hell under his very nostrils at the foot of Sixteenth street during a third of his mortal career. God’s wrath on him should and will be terrible indeed for his inhuman dereliction.

Can Mayor Tiemann or Peter Cooper inform us who originated the Ward Island speculation, through which the city has been and will be plundered till doomsday? We will bet heavily, that Tiemann and Cooper know more about the Ward Island purchases than they would like to disclose. We shall see.

We approach our career as a lover in the next chapter of our “Life.” We dread this, as it is nearly the only portion of the past that we review with sadness. But we must commence the painful task in the next number of the Alligator, which will elicit many a tear and smile from the curious children of Adam and Eve, but there will be more tears than smiles from us, as we record, for coming ages, our most extraordinary domestic history. The Turks and Mormons and descendants of the amorous patriarchs will wildly stare, when they peruse our legal relations with human divinities.

Who was the confidential friend of Joseph S. Taylor? Mayor Tiemann.—Who was forever prowling around the Street Commissioner’s Office in the days of Jo. Taylor? Mayor Tiemann.—Who boasted that he could always control the vote of Ex-Governor Tiemann? Jo. Taylor. And who always did control the vote of Ex-Governor Tiemann? Jo. Taylor!—O Moses!

A young scamp sends us a threat. His surname begins with K., which is the initial of “Knell!” Knave! Dost thou understand?

Go to thy work, With probe and fork, And earn thy pork, And pay thy debts, And cease thy threats, And Godless frets.

Coward! Save your ink and paper and valuable time, and bring your threat, and we will spank you, or we are no American.

Some complain of the length of our articles, but let all read them understandingly, and they will find them short and sweet as ’lasses.

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.

Some students met to play a game of cards, when one proposed to bet some money, which was accepted. This led to universal betting. Cauldwell, of Virginia, proposed a heavy bet, which I accepted and won. Cauldwell then asked me to accompany him to his room, where we could play by ourselves, and I went, and we gambled several nights, including Sunday. We were about even, and I proposed to play a limited number of games and stop, as I loathed gambling, and feared it might lead to a gambler’s fate. My proposition was accepted, and at the close of the games, he owed me about eighty dollars, which he paid me the following day, which closed my gambling at Cambridge. I seldom attended the recitations at the Law School of Judge Story and Professor Greenleaf, but rode fast horses with the Southern students, and accompanied them to the opera of Mr. and Mrs. Wood, in Boston, and other places of amusement and dissipation. My sojourn at Cambridge cost my father a large sum, for which I acquired nothing. And, disgusted with myself and lamenting my ingratitude to my father, I proposed to leave Cambridge, and return to Andover, to which, to my surprise, my father readily acceded. I engaged excellent board and parlor, and hired a horse daily for exercise, and employed three private teachers in English, Greek, and Latin, and I studied fifteen hours a day for six months, and acquired a more critical knowledge of principles than I had obtained in all my life. I gave my English teacher two dollars an hour, who devoted four hours a day in recitation and explanation. I gave my Greek and Latin teachers two dollars an hour, who each taught me two hours a day. I permitted no one to visit me, save my teachers, and my only recreation was a ride, on horseback every day. Large as my bills were, my noble father paid them without a murmur. The only serious mistake I made during my residence at Andover, was a journey to Washington, by invitation of Nathaniel P. Causin, Jr., who, during his visit to Providence, while I was in the Post Office, was introduced to me by Tristam Burges, Jr. I thought young Tristam neglected Causin, and I introduced him to the students and pretty girls of Providence, for which he often expressed the warmest gratitude in letters from Washington, and I at length favorably responded to his frequent importunities to visit him. So fond was Causin of me, that while I was in the Law School at Cambridge, he desired to join me in my class, and room with me, and actually packed his trunks at Washington for his departure to Cambridge, but I advised him to go to the New Haven Law School, as I did not dare have him come to Cambridge while I had the itch, lest he might catch it, through our constant intimacy. I left Andover with one hundred dollars, and was warmly received by Causin on my arrival in Washington. He accompanied me to the President’s, to either House of Congress, to the Executive Departments, and to Mount Vernon, where we fertilized the tomb of Washington with our tears. And he now proposes a dinner in honor of me, to which the distinguished ladies and gentlemen of Washington are to be invited, which made me nervous, and I send a note affecting sudden illness, when Causin comes and implores me to accompany him in a carriage to his father’s. I feared to go as the lion of such a gay and polished throng, as doubtless would be there, but I yield to his irresistible persuasion, and assure him that I will come in the evening. Causin departs, and I repair to the abode of a Virginian in Washington, who was a famous linguist at Cambridge, and inform him that I am invited to an intellectual festival, at which would be the genius and beauty of Washington, and that as it was a compliment to me, I trembled lest I should be forced to give a toast or make a speech, or be propounded questions which I could not answer with fluency and accuracy. My friend sympathises, and consents to go, and talk to them, if necessary, in six languages, and give them toasts, and speeches, and answer all the questions they could ask in the whole range of the sciences, and freely partake of all the liquids and solids they could place before him. And he directs me to be sure and sit close beside him, and when I get cornered, to pinch him, and he will monopolise the conversation, and keep up such a loud and everlasting chatter, that I can have no possible chance to respond to the questions of the guests. Young Causin’s father was the physician of Henry Clay, and other Senators and Representatives, and when I enter the parlor and behold Clay himself towering above the assembled intelligence and dazzling magnificence of our National Capital, I thought I should fall, and leaned firmly on the arm of my accomplished companion for support. With Causin as our faithful guide, we passed around, and bowed to the intellectual guests, and their lovely wives and daughters, who gleamed with jewels, and formed a brilliant constellation. My Virginia friend was perfectly at home, and shook the hand of Clay with as much nonchalence as if he had been his own father, and saluted the wives and virgin coquettes like his own mother and sisters; and one glorious and irresistible creature, I thought he would kiss and conquer on the spot, so interminably did their tongues revel in French, Spanish, and Italian. But I was giddy, and asked Causin for water, and through this happy pretext, emerge from the gorgeous display. My friend desires to linger, but I twitch and coax him to leave with myself and Causin, as I fear he might seat himself at the approaching dinner beside some black-eyed maiden, and thus place me in the dilemma I had sought to avoid by inviting him to the festival. We descend the stairs, and drink wine, and smoke segars until the gong summons us to the banquet. Causin clings to me, and I to the Virginian, and we seat ourselves in the centre of the table with myself between Causin and my guest. The covers are removed, and the posterity of about all the ducks, and hens, and roosters, and flocks, and herds, that were preserved in the Ark are in the arms of death before us, for their last grind and annihilation. But as I was a professed invalid, I dared not eat, although my stomach craved the ducks and venison most acutely. After the poor animals were hacked and devoured, the pastry, jellies, cream, and fruits appear in such profusion, that it seemed as though Java, Madeira, the tropics, Indies, and all of the Mediterranean isles had been pillaged and desolated to appease our palates, and corks flew like rockets, and rivalled the reverberations of rifles in a siege. I drank some wine, but was extremely cautious, and more than once besought Causin to let me retire, but he peremptorily refused. And now the majestic form of Clay arises, who addresses the ladies in a strain of fervor and exhilaration that fascinated every heart. He then addressed the gentlemen, and when about to close, rests his searching eyes on me. I begin to tremble, and when he articulates my name as the distinguished guest of the occasion, I can scarcely breathe, and unconsciously take a glass of brandy (for water) which was designed for my Virginia friend, and which nearly choked me, and plunged me in deeper misery. The great Kentuckian closed with a glowing eulogium on Rhode Island, and her manufactures, and warriors, and statesmen, and lingered on the genius, and valor, and eloquence, and patriotism of Greene and Perry, and Tristam Burges. All eyes are now upon me, and I pinch the Virginian in vain, and fear paralysis, unless he instantly relieves me. So, having a gold toothpick in my hand, I plunge it into his leg as far as it would go, and up he sprang as though suddenly galvanised, and breathed a strain of eloquence worthy of the best days of old Virginia. He extenuated my non-response to the pleasing remarks of the distinguished Kentuckian, on the ground of indisposition, and, after happy allusions to the patriotism of Rhode Island, Virginia, and Kentucky, in the darkest period of American history, he rivetted his piercing eyes on the magnificent array of female loveliness, and entranced the sweet angels with language as luxuriant as Antony’s to Cleopatra, in the high antiquity of Roman and Egyptian splendor. The matrons smiled and the virgins clapped their tiny and lily fingers, and the gentlemen struck the table, and stamped their feet, and rose, and ejaculated bravo! Senators, and Representatives, and scholars spoke in strains of powerful eloquence, and elicited enthusiastic praise. All now arise, and repair to the parlors, where vocal and instrumental music, and dancing, and waltzing, and intellectual communion of the most solid and brilliant minds of our country, close the pleasing exercises of the memorable occasion. The Virginian departs for his abode near the President’s, and Causin and myself go to Gadsby’s. While strolling on Pennsylvania Avenue, on the following evening, Causin said: “Branch, in yonder marble edifice is a band of gamblers, where many a promising youth and meritorious gentleman have been ruined for ever.” I accompany Causin to his residence, and listen to the delightful music of his sister, and invite him to dine with me on the following day, and leave for Gadsby’s, and halt at the portal of the gambler’s den, and thus soliloquise: “My expenses have been more than I anticipated, and I have hardly sufficient funds to pay my bills, and reach Cambridge, and a week must elapse ere I can obtain money from my father. I have always been fortunate in the half a dozen times I have gambled, and I will try my luck once more, and for the last time,” and I enter the gamester’s hell, and drink some delicious wine, and eat some turkey and pickled oysters, and advance to the gaming table, and in one hour I am penniless. I return to Gadsby’s, and retire, but cannot sleep, rolling from side to to side like a ship in a howling tempest. Causin and his cousin dine with me, and after dinner, we stroll in the beautiful paths around the noble Capitol, and visit some lovely girls in the evening, whom Causin had known from childhood, and we separated at nearly midnight. I then go to the gamester, and beseech him to restore a portion of the money I had lost, to convey me to my distant home, which he refuses with the glances of a demon. I then go to a Member of Congress from Rhode Island, who was a friend of my father, and ask him to loan me sufficient to pay my bills and defray my expenses to Andover, which he readily vouchsafes. On the following morning, I go to Causin’s, and bid himself and father and mother and sister a warm adieu, and depart for Andover by way of Hartford and Worcester. I knew the son of the Superintendent of the Lunatic Asylum at Worcester while he was a student at Brown University, in Providence, and am anxious to see him, and leave my hotel about 10 P. M. for the Asylum, which was in the suburbs of Worcester. On arriving at the gate, I am permitted to enter after a brief delay, and proceed to the Institution. I had not gone far, when I am attacked by two huge Newfoundland dogs. I coax one, and intimidate the other, and advance. On reaching the front entrance of the Institution, I find it closed, and pass round to the rear, and enter the basement, where I find a solitary candle emitting its last beams, and a stout lunatic is seated in the corner, who instantly approaches me with distended tongue, ejaculating: “Lar, lar,” about a dozen times in rapid succession, when I inquired: “Is young Mr. Clark at home,” to which he responds, with both hands on my shoulders: “Lar, lar, chick-a-de-dee.” and his eyes rolled fearfully, and his tongue appears and disappears with the velocity of an angry rattle snake’s. I am alarmed, and strive in vain to extricate my shoulders from his giant grasp, when he knocks off my hat, and grabs my hair, and pulls it so hard that I cry murder, and he releases his hand, and kisses me, with both arms around my neck. While picking up my hat, he grabs me again around the waist, and belches his infernal “lar, lar,” and protrudes his tongue, and laughs like thunder, and again incloses my neck with his long arms, and evinces the affection of a bear, and squeezes me so hard, that I can scarcely speak or breathe, when I summon all the vigor that God and Nature gave me, and cast him fearfully to the floor, and run for my life, with the lunatic and both dogs close at my heels. I proceed not far, when a ball comes whizzing by, which is fired by a sentinel from the window of the Asylum, which increases my speed, and presently down I go all sprawling into a vault, that was partially cleansed that day, or I would have been instantly drowned from a most awful suffocation. I crawl out, with the aid of the man at the gate, who comes to my rescue when he hears the report of the rifle, and the bark of the dogs. Presently the sentinel comes, and I accompany them into the dreary basement of the Asylum, where the candle is in its final throes, when young Clark makes his appearance, and, after recognising my voice, is about to embrace me, when I most solemnly warn him to stand off, and, for God’s sake, to forbear until I am scraped and washed, and freshly clad. He runs to his bed room, and brings apparel, and a tub, and soon I am clean as mountain snow, and we eat and drink and smoke and sing and laugh until the daylight does appear; and at meridian, I leave Worcester for Andover, resolving never to leave again, until I close my intellectual career in its sacred and mellifluous groves.

(To be continued to our last roam.)

Legislative Robbers.

There is a small tornado in the coffee-pot about the scamps who bought a majority of the Municipal and Rural Legislative Members to vote them a lease of the Washington Market property. Words and threats and Legislative and Court appeals are all moonshine.—When the scoundrels who lobbied the obnoxious Bill through the Legislature with gold appear in Washington Market, let the butchers and fishermen and hucksters seize them and put a cable around their necks, and carry them to the piers’ extremities, where big sharks often roam, and sink them to the water’s bed, and draw them to the surface very slowly, and let them blow as long as a porpoise, and sink them again, and yet again, trebly and quadruply, until they relinquish their Dev-lin-ish claim to the market property, and swear on the surface of the chilly waters, that they will never shadow the Capitol with their odious carcases during their natural lives. This is the only mode, in these degenerate days, of foiling the thievish propensities of the leading traffic rogues of the Republican, American, and Democratic parties. All other means will prove idiotic abortions.

The following meritorious gentlemen are wholesale agents for the Alligator.

Ross & Tousey, 121 Nassau street. Hamilton & Johnson, 22 Ann street. Samuel Yates, 22 Beekman street. Mike Madden, 21 Ann street. Cauldwell & Long, 23 Ann street. Boyle & Gibson, 32 Ann street and Hendrickson & Blake, 25 Ann street.

Advertisements—One Dollar a line IN ADVANCE.

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 Newsdealer, 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.

THERE IS SOMETHING MYSTERIOUS IN THE PICAYUNE.

You are sincerely warned not to look at THE PICAYUNE.

AVOID THE PICAYUNE! SHUN THE PICAYUNE!

Or if you must have it, STEAL it.

AMERICANS—TO THE RESCUE!

JOBSON, in his RED FLAG, of the 24th inst. (published on Thursday), is mauling your beloved Bennett and L. N. Bonaparte, in a manner the most inhuman.

STOP HIM! by buying and burning a copy of his sanguinary Journal, for 8 cents, at the office, 102 Nassau street, or any respectable Newsvender.

EXCELSIOR PRINT, 211 CENTRE-ST., N. Y.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.

—A Table of Contents was not in the original work; one has been produced and added by Transcriber.