Market, arch, race, and vine."
Mulberry, and sassafras, and juniper, would have dished the poetry. The cross-streets are all called by numbers; thus any domicile is readily found. The principal traverse street is an exception, being called "Broad;" it looks its name well, and extends beyond the town into the country: strange as it may seem to those who associate stiff white bonnets, stiff coat-collars, and broad-brimmed hats, with Philadelphia, on the extremity of this street every Sunday afternoon, all the famous trotters may be seen dashing along at three-minute pace. The country round about is pretty and undulating, and the better-to-do inhabitants of Philadelphia have very snug little country places, in which they chiefly reside during the summer, and to which, at other seasons, they often adjourn upon the Saturday, to enjoy the quiet of Sunday in the country.
One of the first objects of interest I went to visit was the Mint, the labours of which are of course immensely increased since the working of the Californian mines. Men are coming in every day with gold in greater or lesser quantities; it is first assayed, and the per-centage for this work being deducted, the value is paid in coin to the owner. While I was there, I saw a wiry-looking fellow arrive, in bright hat and brighter satin waistcoat, with a beard as bushy as an Indian jungle, and as red as the furnace into which his precious burden was to be thrown. Two small leather bags were carefully taken out of a waist-belt, their contents emptied into a tin can, a number placed in the can, and a corresponding number given him—no words spoken: in two days he would return, and, producing his number, receive value in coin. The dust would all have gone into a good-sized coffee-cup. I asked the officer about the value. "400l., sir." He had left a New England state some eight months previous, and was going home to invest in land.
What strikes a stranger most on entering the Mint, is the absence of all extra defence round it; the building appears as open as any London house. The process is, of course, essentially the same as elsewhere; but I was astonished when the director told me that the parties employed in the establishment are never searched on leaving, though the value of hundreds of thousands of dollars is daily passing through their hands in every shape. The water in which the workmen wash their hands runs into a tank below, and from this water, value to the amount of from 60l. to 80l. is extracted annually. The sweepings, &c., after the most careful sifting, are packed in casks and sold—chiefly, I believe, to European Jews—for 4000l. annually. The only peculiarity in the Philadelphian Mint is a frame-work for counting the number of pieces coined, by which ingenious contrivance—rendered necessary by Californian pressure—one man does the work of from twenty to thirty. The operation of weighing the several pieces of coin being of a delicate nature, it is confided to the hands of the fair sex, who occupy a room to themselves, where each daughter of Eve sits with the gravity of a Chancellor opposite a delicate pair of scales. Most parts of the establishment are open to the public from ten till two, and they are only excluded from those portions of the building where intrusion would impede the operations in progress.
This city, like most others in America, is liberally supplied with water. Magnificent basins are built in a natural mound at Fairmount, nearly opposite an old family mansion of the Barings, and the water is forced up into these basins from the river by powerful water-wheels, worked by the said river, which is dammed up for the purpose of obtaining sufficient fall, as the stream is sometimes very low.
Perhaps the most interesting, and certainly the most imposing sight in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia, is "The Gerard College." So singular and successful a career as that of the founder deserves a slight record.
Stephen Gerard was born of French parents, at Bordeaux, the 21st of May, 1750, and his home—owing to his mother's place having soon been filled by a step-mother—appears to have left no pleasant reminiscences. At fourteen years of age he took to the sea. Subsequently, as master and part owner of a small vessel, he arrived, in the year 1777, at Philadelphia for the first time, and commenced business as a merchant; but it appears that in 1786, he took command of one of his own vessels, leaving the management of his mercantile house to his brother. Returning in 1788, he dissolved partnership with his brother, and bade a final adieu to the sea. In the year 1793, the yellow fever raged with fury at Philadelphia; as the ravage increased, the people fled aghast. A hospital was organized at Bush Hill, in the neighbourhood, but all was confusion, for none could be found to face the dreaded enemy, till Stephen Gerard and Peter Helm boldly volunteered their services at the risk of their lives. Stephen Gerard was married, but his wife was consigned to an asylum in 1790, after various ineffectual efforts for her cure; there she remained till her death, in 1815. His mercantile pursuits prospered in every direction, and he soon became one of the most wealthy and influential men in the community; he was possessed of a vigorous constitution, and was extremely regular and abstemious in his habits. In 1830 he was knocked down by a passing vehicle as he was crossing the street; by this accident he was severely injured in the head, from which he was slowly recovering, when, in 1831, he was seized with violent influenza, and ultimately pneumonia, of which he died, the 26th of December, aged eighty-one.
His character appears to have been a curious compound. The assiduity with which he amassed wealth, coupled with his abstemious habits, and his old knee-breeches patched all over—and still to be seen in the college—strongly bespoke the miser; while his contributions to public works, and his liberal transactions in money matters, led to an opposite conclusion; and from his noble conduct during the yellow fever it is reasonable to infer he was a humane man. I do not wish to judge people uncharitably, but, I must say, I can allow but little credit to a man who legacies the bulk of his fortune away from his relations when he can no longer enjoy it himself. Mr. Gerard had very many relatives; let us see how he provided for them. The résumé of his will may be thus stated: he died worth 1,500,000l., and thus disposes of it:—
Erection and endowment of college £400,000
Different institutions of charity 23,200
To his relatives and next of kin 28,000
City of Philadelphia, for improvements 100,000
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, for
internal improvements 60,000
Sundry friends, &c. 13,000
The residue left to the city of Philadelphia, for improvement and maintenance of his college, the establishment of better police, and to improve the city and diminish taxation. Thus, out of a fortune of one million and a half, he leaves his relatives 28,000l. Charity, in this instance, can scarcely be said to have begun at home.