Photo. by G. F. Simonson.
There was great ruin in Prince William Street after the fire. A good deal of the wealth of the city, and some of the chief buildings of the place were situate here. The destruction of the Imperial Building belonging to the Messrs. Magee, and which was occupied by them and Messrs. Maclellan & Co., the bankers, was but the work of a few moments. A large quantity of valuable merchandise likewise perished, and the newly commenced block of buildings adjoining exhibited even a vaster extent of ruin than it did on the night of the last great fire which raged in this locality, and which cost the city seven lives.[P] Mr. Robert Marshall's insurance office, on the corner of the Market Square, and indeed the whole of Prince William Street, both sides clear to Reed's Point, were reduced to ashes and debris. Jardine's grocery store, Messrs. Wis
dom & Fish's belting and heavy goods establishment, Benson's millinery store, Steeves, Bros., J. & J. Hegan & Co's., Beard & Venning, The Devebers, James R. Cameron & Co., W. H. Hayward & Co., George Philp's banking house, and Chubb's book store on the one side, were as completely wrecked as the row of stores on the eastern part of the street which contained Barnes & Co's. book-store, Peiler's piano warehouse, and Professor Devine's music store, the splendid book and publishing establishment of Messrs. J. & A. McMillan, which was first built in 1831, and was afterwards burned in one of the great fires which succeeded that year, and, about 1842, was rebuilt in the shape in which the fire found it the other day, the insurances offices of H. R. Ranney, Lawton's drug store, Stevenson's shoe-shop, Valpey's, Sheraton & Skinner's carpet warehouse, Simeon Jones & Co's., Eastern Express, Francis', and Z. G. Gabel's corner store.
Chubb's Corner—the home of the curb stone broker, and the place where more gossip has been talked during the last forty years than would furnish the stock-in-trade of forty well-organized sewing circles—was an early victim, for it went down with Furlong's palace about the hour of six. The mention of Chubb's Corner awakens a thousand memories. For many years it enjoyed the distinction of being the great centre of commercial speculation. Men came here to meet men who had money to lend, and those who had none came to borrow it. Stocks and merchandise changed hands on this spot a dozen times a day, and the cautious bill-broker who
never had any funds of his own to lend, came here to scent the financial air. In this cheerful spot money was subject to the fluctuations of the market with a vengeance. The rate—aye, there's the rub—"if we can only agree about that," said the note-shaver, "I think I may take the paper. 'The man is a good man,'" he continued, unconsciously quoting Shakespeare, "and I think I may take his bond," and though nothing was said about the pound of flesh in the event of the notes not being paid at maturity, the modern Shylock meant it all the same, and was as equally determined to get it, too, as the old gentleman we see on the stage rubbing his hands together, and making horrible faces at the audience and the Christian merchant Antonio. The rate in this grim corner was not measured by the consciences of the money-lenders, but by the necessities of the applicant. One could tell in a much less expensive way than by borrowing money of these gentry, whether they were getting a good price for their coin or not, by simply watching their faces during the operation. The face of the note-shaver is a barometer. It requires no regulating and it is always correct. There, quick, watch it now. See how long the face is. No, he has no money himself, but—Ah, that's it, now watch. See, observe the countenance, listen to
that chuckle? Yes, what is he chuckling about? Oh, that's nothing, only habit; now the face is hanging up again, and it is ready for observation. The lender is telling the borrower how difficult it is to get money, and how much Smith had to pay for a thirty days' loan yesterday. This is of no inter
est to Jones, who is hanging on the words of Mr. Shylock as a lover drinks in the soft nothings of his mistress, but it gives the lender opportunities to find out how "hard up" his victim is. Now watch the face again. Still long and bilious-looking. Twenty per cent. is not so high. It's only five dollars off of a hundred, and look at the time three months—and it falls due on Sunday, too. You'll get a day's interest out of me for nothing, you rogue. The face is positively joyous. The eyes snap and sparkle. The countenance has become quite round and full, and there are bright spots on the cheeks. The extra day without interest did it, and the two go off arm in arm. But after all they are not happy; one has paid too much, and the other stands ready to kick himself for not having asked more. O, Chubb's Corner, you have much to answer for, and perhaps the fire did some good in staying this kind of business for a time at least on your site. But the old corner was not given over entirely to the vultures of commerce. It was the place for many years where property, stocks, debentures, bonds, and all such securities were sold at Public Auction as well as by private sale. The old Corner was a meeting place too, where men met and talked over the times and their affairs. Men stopped here on their way to the Post Office, the old Bank and the Custom House, if it was not too late, to have a friendly chat with an acquaintance. Office boys hurrying along in the leisurely hurry that office boys always employ, stopped at Chubb's Corner and looked into the windows of the Exchange office, and wondered to themselves if the
huge pile of money they saw lying about was good or not, and whether it would pass. And so the days came and the days passed away, and year in and year out, the old Corner still stood the centre of a busy hive. If those old walls could speak now, as daily, men tramp over their fallen forms, what tales could they tell, what stories of joy and sorrow might they not relate! Walls have ears and they heard much, but they could not speak and what they knew has perished with them.
The building on the Corner was put up by Mr. Chubb, shortly after he was burned out in 1839. The head of the old firm was Henry Chubb, Esq., whose father landed with the Loyalists. He succeeded in 1811 the business which had formerly been carried on by Mrs. Mott, wife of the King's Printer, for whom Mr. Chubb conducted the work of the establishment on the death of her husband. In 1842, Samuel Seeds was admitted partner in the firm together with the eldest son of Mr. Chubb, Henry J. Chubb. In 1846 the latter died and the surviving partners continued the business until the spring of 1855, when Mr. Chubb died leaving his share to Mr. Seeds and his two sons, Thos. Chubb and George James Chubb. In 1863, Mr. Seeds retired and the brothers remained in business until 1865, when G. J. Chubb bought out his brother's interest, and the firm has continued under the old style of H. Chubb & Co., ever since. An exchange office was added to the stationery and printing business during the American War.
The old Commercial Bank building which was lately