than thirteen miles. I could not make that distance before dark. A
passerby said that there was a horse railway running as far as Murray
Hill. But I strode on, arriving in a little while at Washington Square.
Beyond this I could see that the city did not present the appearance of
being greatly built. On my way I passed the gas works, the City Hall,
many banks, several circulating libraries, saw the signs of almost
innumerable insurance companies. But the people! They were all strange
to me. So many negroes. My manual said there were over 14,000 negroes in
the city, which, added to the white population, made an aggregate of
more than 200,000 souls. I sat for a while in the Park and then retraced
my steps.

On my way back I stopped at Niblo's Garden at Broadway and Prince
Street. It was a gay place. People were feasting upon oysters, drinking,
laughing, talking over the affairs of the day. Here I partook of oysters
for the first time in my life. I walked through the grounds, looking at
the flowers. I stared about at the splendor of the paintings and the
mirrors in the rooms. Then like a ghost I resumed my way to my hotel.
Why? There was nothing there to call me back. Yet it was the only home I
had, and the evening was coming on.

Instead of stopping at the hotel, I went on to Castle Garden. I decided
to dine there. I could look over the harbor and the ships. It was a way
to put myself in touch with England, to travel back over the way I had
come. I found a table and ordered a meal.

I became conscious of the fact that the captain of the _Columbia and
Caledonia_ was at a near table with a gay party. They had wine, and
there was much merriment. This abandonment was in contrast to the
serious, almost dark spirit of a party at another table. This was