Part 2

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

James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career.

BENNETT’S OFFICE IN 1835.

_Enter John Kelly._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Bennett_—I want my papers.

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

_Bennett_—Please let me have them.

_Ward_—Where’s your (hic) watch?

_Bennett_—I let Mr. Anderson have it yesterday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_John_—What! You won’t commit suicide?

_Bennett_—God only knows what I shall do.

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

(To be continued.)

_For the Alligator._

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

PETER PIPER PICT.

NEW YORK, June 15, 1858.

STEPHEN H. BRANCH:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours Respectfuly,

ANTI-TYRANT.

Advertisements—25 Cents a line.

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

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

251 Broadway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 York.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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