Part 1

CONTENTS PAGE

JAMES GORDON BENNETT’S EDITORIAL CAREER. 2

INCOMPARABLE MEANNESS. 5

SPECTRES AND HOBGOBLINS. 6

TO JAMES GORDON BENNETT AND FREDERIC HUDSON, HIS CUNNING SECRETARY. 6

THE WAY NEW YORK IS BAMBOOZLED. 7

STARTLING REVELATIONS. 8

LIFE OF STEPHEN H. BRANCH. 10

Volume I.—No. 9.] SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 1858. [Price 2 Cents.

James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career.

Bennett left his native hills of Scotland in 1819, and arrived in Boston in 1820. After enduring the tortures of poor Goldsmith (as teacher, traveler, editor, and author) for fifteen years, he takes the basement of the crumbling ruin at No. 20 Wall street, and advertises for a boy, when John Kelly (now a Member of Congress from the Fourth, Sixth, Tenth, and Fourteenth Wards) thus responds:

_Enter John Kelly in rags and barefooted._

_John_—Mr. Bennett: Mother says you advertised for a boy, and sent me to ask you for the situation.

_Bennett_—What’s your name?

_John_—Johnny Kelly.

_Bennett_—Where do you live?

_John_—In the Fourteenth Ward.

_Bennett_—How long have you been in this country?

_John_—I have always been in this beautiful country.

_Bennett_—Aint you an Irish boy?

_John_—No, sir,—I am an American boy, and I’m very glad I am an American.

_Bennett_—Why are you glad of that?

_John_—Because George Washington was an American, and I dearly love his memory, because he always spoke the truth, and was good and brave, and loved and saved his country.

_Bennett_—Who told you all this?

_John_—My grandfather first told me of Washington’s greatness, and goodness, and bravery, and since he died, I have read the Life of Washington several times.

_Bennett_—Where was your grandfather born?

_John_—In Scotland.

_Bennett_—Ah! then, you are of Scotch descent?

_John_—Yes, sir.

_Bennett_—Did you ever hear of Wallace?

_John_—Yes, sir, and of William Tell, and his son Albert, of Switzerland. Grandfather told me all about their courageous deeds and great love of country.

_Bennett_—Where were your parents born?

_John_—In poor old Ireland.

_Bennett_—Why did they leave their country?

_John_—Because liberty was dead, and the people starving, and sorely oppressed by tyrants.

_Bennett_—Who crushed the liberty of Ireland?

_John_—England, Scotland, and Wales.

_Bennett_—That will do, my boy, and I am pleased with your intelligence and love of liberty, though you should not denounce the glorious Scotland, because your grandfather came from its pretty vales and majestic mountains.

_John_—If Scotland and Wales had sympathised with Ireland, and fought her battles for freedom, the sweetest and greenest Isle of all the earth would now be free like my dear America, and Scotland and Wales could also have enjoyed the blessings of liberty.

_Enter Washer Woman._

_Washer Woman_—And so I have caught the old Scotch Serpent at last, eh? I have been here a dozen times, and also at your last boarding house, which you left without paying a poor widow (with five young children) for your board, and she is very sick in consequence of your cowardly villainy, and is about to have another child, and her landlord told her yesterday that she must move immediately, or he would turn her into the street, for not paying her rent. But I’ll stand none of your wickedness. And now, Bennett, if you don’t instantly pay me for washing and mending your filthy and ragged clothes, I will rope you on the spot. (She takes a rope from behind her apron.)

_Bennett_—Call in the morning, and I will certainly pay you.

_Washer Woman_—I shall do no such thing, you lying diddler. I will have it now, or I will rope you, and pull your hair, and scratch and bite, and maul you to a jelly. (She approaches him with menacing gestures.)

_Bennett_—There, good woman,—there’s your money. (She seizes it and departs, wagging her head and body with victorious vociferations.)

_Bennett_—There, Master Kelly, you perceive that I am very poor.

_John_—Yes, sir, and so am I, and I like to be with the poor, because they are far more kind and generous than the rich.

_Bennett_ (wiping a tear from his eye)—My boy, I can see a noble heart in your breast, and you remind me of the happy friends I left in my native land, whom I may never see again, and who are ignorant of the terrible vicissitudes through which I have passed, since I left my dear father’s roof.

_John_—What country is yours?

_Bennett_—Scotland.

_John_—Ah! Scotland! My adored grandfather’s native home! O, I love you much better, now that I learn you came from Scotland.

_Bennett_—No more of this, dear boy. I cannot talk of my present poverty, and of my native skies, without sad emotions. And now to business. Can you write a handsome hand?

_John_—I can write a plain hand.

_Bennett_—Can you spell well?

_John_—Tolerably well, for a poor boy.

_Bennett_—Do you understand figures?

_John_—Better than spelling or writing.

_Bennett_—How much do you want a week?

_John_—Enough to buy shoes and jacket and trowsers, and pay my father and mother something for my food and lodging.

_Bennett_—Well, if you prove active, and answer my purpose, I will reward you according to my success in my new enterprise.

_John_—When do you want me to come?

_Bennett_—You may stay now, and, after sweeping out the office, and folding that pile of papers in the corner, which I could not sell yesterday, you can accompany me to my Printers, Anderson & Ward, in Ann street, for the _Herald_ papers of to-day. (John sprinkles and sweeps out, and folds the papers in half an hour, and he and Bennett start for Ann street.)

_Bennett_ (at his printer’s in Ann street)—Mr. Anderson, are my papers ready?

_Anderson_—Yes, but you can’t have them until you pay me for them.

_Bennett_—I have not got enough.

_Anderson_—Then you can’t have them.

_Bennett_—But the newsboys are outside, waiting for them.

_Anderson_—I can’t help that.

_Bennett_—But, my dear sir, do let me have them.

_Anderson_—I shan’t do it.

_Bennett_—Will you take my watch?

_Anderson_—I have taken that twenty times, and, as I am not a pawnbroker, I am sick of taking your watch as security for the results of my honest labor.

_Bennett_—Do take it once more.

_Anderson_—I told you, when you last redeemed it, that I should not take it again.

_Bennett_ (crying)—Do take it once more, Mr. Anderson.

_Anderson_—No, sir. Here, Rufus, put these Heralds in a box, and nail it, and take the box to my house.

_John_—Do take his watch once more, kind sir. Mr. Bennett has just employed me, and I’m not afraid to trust him. Besides, just look at his tears. See how big they are, and how fast they flow and roll down his manly cheeks. Do, sir, O do let him have the papers, and spare his tears, and heal his broken heart.

_Anderson_ (looking over his spectacles)—Who the devil are you?

_John_—I am Johnny Kelly.

_Anderson_—What! Does your father live in the Fourteenth Ward?

_John_—Yes, sir, and that’s just where I was born, and have always lived, and always mean to, and die there also, and, if possible, I intend to be buried there, in some beautiful cemetery, because I most fondly love the good and generous people of the Fourteenth Ward. And now, Mr. Anderson, have I not often seen you at my father’s, on winter evenings, telling each other funny and pleasing stories of the past?

_Anderson_—Seen me at your father’s, you young rogue? Why, to be sure you have. I came to America with your father and mother, and my wife was present when you were born in Mott street, and after your mother got well, we had a great frolic at your Christening, and went to the Park Theatre, and you were the fattest and prettiest baby I ever saw.

_John_—You don’t say so? Give me your hand—

_Anderson_ (jumping over the counter)—and a kiss, too, you rosy little rascal. (Kisses him, and then turns to Bennett.) There, Bennett, take your papers, and give me your old dumb silver turnip once more, but I’ll be hanged before I will ever take it again. And you may attribute your good luck this time to this bright and pretty and honest little boy, whom I have loved since his infancy. (Bennett and John take the papers, and let the boys outside have some, and then depart for No. 20 Wall street.)

_Bennett_ (on his way to Wall street)—Well, my lad, you have saved me to-day, and I’ll remember it with gratitude as long as I live. Tell your father and mother that I will come and see them on Sunday evening, and take tea with them. You can tell them that I will let you have money enough on Saturday night to get you a pair of shoes, as it won’t do for you to be my clerk with naked feet. Besides, I’m afraid you will get nails or splinters in your bare feet, and have the lock jaw. So, John, you had better ask your father to let you wear his shoes until Saturday.

_John_—Daddy hasn’t got any shoes. He has been sick a long time with inflammatory rheumatism, and he can’t work any more, and he is obliged to go barefooted like myself.

_Bennett_—Good Lord! Then ask your mother to let you wear her shoes until Saturday.

_John_—Mother aint got but one pair, and they are slippers, and nearly worn out.

_Bennett_—Well, then, I must try to get you some second-hand shoes in the morning. I have only one pair myself, but I think I can borrow some that are considerably worn from one of my room-mates. So, good day, Johnny, and come down early in the morning, and I guess I’ll have some protection for your tender feet.

_John_—Good day, sir, and I hope you will not cry any more until I see you.

_Bennett_—I thank you, my dear boy, for your genial sympathy, and I will strive not to cry again until I see you. So, good by.

_John_—Good by, sir. (They separate.)

(To be continued.)

Incomparable Meanness.

I taught Richard T. Compton grammar and composition, while he was President of the Board of Aldermen, at his residence, for which he never fully paid me. I also went nearly two years to Ambrose C. Kingsland’s princely residence in Fifth Avenue, for the purpose of his education in spelling, grammar, and composition, and he has never paid me. Dick Compton’s Bill is small compared with Kingsland’s, who owes me a large sum. President Compton and Ex-Mayor Kingsland were the most corrupt men ever in the City Hall. I have asserted, and still assert, and intend to assert, to the very last hour of my existence, that one of my Aldermanic pupils of the scabby Common Councils of 1851 and 1852, assured me that Ex-Mayor Kingsland made more money while Mayor in 1851 and 1852, than all the Mayors who preceded him, and that he (my Aldermanic pupil) was an eye witness to many of Kingsland’s plundering operations. So, Compton and Kingsland, just put all this in your pipes and smoke it, and now, if you attempt to violate my person (for publishing what I and you know to be true, and what I yearn to prove in the Courts,) you can come on as soon as you please, and if I don’t tumble your thievish carcases into the liquid fires of hell, I shall prove an unworthy advocate of the millions you have robbed and tried to starve, and of the land of Greene and Perry from which I proudly hail. I dunned Kingsland a long time for my just dues, and wearied and shocked with his meanness, I sent him a letter long since, presenting him with my entire claim for learning him to spell the simplest words. And if he will publish my letter, I will give him a clock, gilded with gold and silver, as an ornament to the Chief parlor of his gorgeous mansion, which he stole from the poor creatures who crawl in nakedness to the corner groceries for food to keep them from the grave. I recently asked Compton for an advertisement for the _Alligator_, in order to indirectly get the money he owes me for instruction, but he even declined the advertisement. And now I publicly give him the entire balance of my claim against him for instruction, while he was President of the Board of Aldermen. Compton was as corrupt when he was in the Common Council in 1845 and 1846, as he was in 1852 and 1853. His Ice Partner, Joseph Britton, was Assistant Alderman of the Fifteenth Ward in 1848, and Alderman in 1849, 1850, and 1851, and (as Chairman of the Finance Committee, in connection with James M. Bard,) he did not steal over $200,000. It is most time for Compton and Britton to return to the Common Council, and make fresh grabs at the pockets and throats of the people, who should seize such villains and hang them in the Park, and thrust their worthless bones into a felon’s grave.

Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator.

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 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.

Spectres and Hobgoblins.

Poor _Helen Jewett’s_ ghost appeared to James Gordon Bennett last night, and he leaped from his bed, (_a la_ Richard from his tent,) and sweat terribly, and his jaws clattered, and his frame trembled, and he screamed for Grinnell and others to come to his relief. But they could not respond, because they were long since bled to death in the rear of the City Hospital, and are at the High Court of God, awaiting the speedy arrival of Bennett’s soul, which they will convict of crimes that will consign his wicked spirit to wasteless fires!

To James Gordon Bennett and Frederic Hudson, his Cunning Secretary.

How many members of your families and _Herald_ spies are quartered in the Departments of our Municipal Government? in the Post Office? in the Custom House? in the Departments at Washington? I am anxious to know, and, if you don’t soon publish the interminable list, I will. Is Robert, your former book-keeper, and other family relatives, still in the Custom House, and other public stations, and to keep them there, do you jump Jim Crow from Fremont to Buchanan, and defend the everlasting Wetmore robbers, and the brothers Schell, and other public plunderers? You know you do, you double-dyed villains. And you know that I know that Bennett and Fred and Ned Hudson, and black-mail-bottle-holder-Galbraith, and “Obscene-publication”-”British-alien”-”thirty-days-in-the-Tombs”-”Drury” -”go-between”-Fire Marshal Baker, are an irredeemable band of consummate scamps. I mean to strip, and lash, and brand yourselves and whole tribe of vultures, so that you cannot longer deceive the people. So, prepare, ye two-faced, nauseous, scabby, leprous, and hellish gang of thieves, for a dissection that will enlarge the eyes of honest men, and make them stare like affrighted owls. You have quoted Scripture long enough, and I intend that you shall hereafter quote from your friend the Devil, and cease your hypocrisy.

The Way New York is Bamboozled.

“_First Annual Report of the American and Foreign Emigrant Protective and Employment Society_,” of which _Peter Cooper_ is President, and _Horace Greeley_ and _Solon Robinson_ are Directors.

ANNUAL STATEMENT.

_Receipts to date, from all sources—April 30, 1855._

By cash received in donations, subscriptions, fees, &c., $7,822 67 ————————— $7,822 67

_Payments to Date—April 30, 1855._

Cash paid for repairs and offices $350 38 ” furniture and office fittings, 444 50 ” rents, firing, &c., 1,113 92 ” salaries, 3,663 20 ” petty disbursements, 310 07 ” advertisements, 356 73 ” books, stationery and printing, 525 75 ” licenses, 50 00 ” _transportation of emigrants_, 482 33 Balance of cash on band, 525 79 ————————— $7,822 67

We do hereby certify that we have examined the books of account of the American and Foreign Emigrant Protective and Employment Society, and audited the above account, and find the same correct.

JASPER E. CORNING, } H. PLANTEN, } _Committee_.

NEW YORK, May 22, 1855.

So that “$482,33, _for transportation of emigrants_,” was every cent (out of the annual receipts of $7,822,67) that was devoted to the legitimate objects of the Society. This is the boldest robbery of a Charitable Society on record, though the following is close at its heels:

_Official Statement_ of the _Hunter Woodis Academy of Music Calico Ball_.

Receipts, (rogues’ exhibit,) $9,202 30 Expenses, (rogues’ exhibit,) 4,288 72 ————————— Balance disbursed for _John Hecker’s_ Bread, with a very small balance still in the hands of rogues 4,913 58

Peter Cooper was also President of this Ball, and Mayor Tiemann and James W. Gerard the Secondary Managers.

_Official Statement_ of the _Crystal Palace Ball_, of which Peter Cooper was the President, and Mayor Tiemann and James W. Gerard the Secondary Managers.

Receipts, (rogues’ exhibit,) $10,147 38 Expenses, (rogues’ exhibit,) 6,828 03 —————————— Balance still in hands of the Hunter Woodis Roguish Managers, 3,319 35

So that not one cent of the enormous receipts of this famous Ball has been devoted to the purchase of one little loaf of John Hecker’s Bread, nor to the relief of the indigent thousands, whom the receipts of this Ball were intended to relieve. The _Hunter Woodis Society_ Managers told me on Monday last, that the receipts of the Crystal Palace Ball were §10,147,38, and that the expenses were $6,828,03, leaving a balance in the hands of their Treasurer of $3,319,35, which is now in their Safe, and that they have not disbursed one cent for bread nor any thing else for the relief of the poor, and do not intend to, until the next winter. I had a long interview with the officers of the self-constituted _Hunter Woodis Society_, (at their official quarters,) who are remarkably well clad, and smelt very strongly of cologne and pomatum, and they seemed extremely happy in their gaudy easy chairs, and I learn that they can often be seen on the fashionable avenues with fast steeds, and at the Italian Opera, and the aristocratic clubs. One of the leaders of the _Hunter Woodis Society_ (doubtless fearing that I was about to let loose my _Alligator_ upon himself and associates,) breathed honied words during my visit to the Society, and boldly said that Peter Cooper was anything but an honest man, but that the _Hunter Woodis_ Managers were all honorable men, and that all the members of the _Hunter Woodis Society_ were Know Nothings. He told me this three times, lest I should forget it, the fool supposing that I regarded Know Nothing thieves with less abhorrence than Irish or British thieves, of the Busteed, Connolly, or Matsell brand. I believe that most of the charitable funds of the “American and Foreign Emigrant Protective and Employment Society,” and of the “Academy of Music and Crystal Palace Balls,” have gone into the pockets and bellies and bladders of the scoundrels who collected those sacred funds for the immediate relief of the Emigrants and Starving Poor of New York.

Startling Revelations.