THE BATTERY.
The Battery was formerly one of the most delightful spots in New York. It occupies the extreme lower end of the island, and commands a fine view of the bay and harbor. It had formerly a granite sea-wall, along which was the favorite promenade of the city, and was shaded by a grove of fine oaks which the Dutch settlers had been wise enough to spare. It was almost triangular in form, and on two sides was built up with stately mansions of the old style, which were occupied by the elite of the metropolis. It had an elegant and aristocratic air, which made it very attractive to both native and visitor.
The houses and trees are still standing, but the dwellers who made the place so gay, twenty years ago, have flown up the island, and the buildings are occupied with the offices of the various shipping lines, that ply between this and other ports; and by cheap hotels, bar-rooms, and sailors' boarding houses, the grass in the enclosure is trodden down, and the place is both dirty and repulsive. The railing is lined with long rows of street-venders' stalls, and the gates have been taken away. Crowds of emigrants, drunken men, slovenly women and dirty children are to be seen at all hours of the day in the old park, and the only beauty still clinging to the scene is in the expanse of blue water which stretches away from it seaward. At night the Battery is not a safe place to visit, for its frequenters respect neither life nor property, and the bay is close at hand to hide all traces of crime.