The building intended as a residence for paupers, as we passed along the rail-road, on my return from New York, in a pleasant morning, on our right hand, across the Schuylkill, standing on elevated ground, made a splendid appearance. Had we not known that it was the Almshouse, we might have been tempted to believe it the residence of some retired monarch of the old world, who had come here, and at the expense of a million of dollars or more, had erected this splendid palace for a residence. The traveller is generally treated a little better, and charged a little less in Philadelphia, than he is in any other Atlantic city. As a whole, this city has always been celebrated for its good qualities of all sorts, and yet a few, a very few men here have done not a little to injure its still fair character. Its banks, bankers and bankrupts have brought down ruin on many an honest man and covered themselves, the authors of the ruin, with shame and disgrace. The ruin has fallen on the innocent only, while the guilty have escaped condign punishment, except one of them, whose death in all human probability was occasioned by his mental sufferings, at the loss of his character.--Peace to his shade.
Early on the morning of January 10th, I left the Mansion house, crossed the Delaware and passed through the State of New Jersey, in the rail-road cars, and arrived at New York city about three o’clock in the afternoon, in season for a dinner at a tavern on Broadway, At dinner we had a printed bill of fare in French. For drink, I had a glass of Croton water, with ice in it, and this, after a cold day’s ride, in the depth of a cold, northern winter! Had I been a frozen turnip, such water might have thawed my frozen stomach, but as it was, hot coffee or hot tea would have suited me much better. I called for something to eat, but the waiter in an insolent tone ordered me in German “to read my bill of fare,” and he refused to give me any thing to eat. Finally, after positively refusing to comply with my request a dozen times, the ruffian gave me a thin slice of roasted beef, which I ate at a mouthful, and called in vain for more. This mouthful of meat, with some cold Croton water and some ice in it, was all I got for my dinner! Half a dollar for such a dinner! kind reader. I had the _bill of fare_ lying before me, but the _fare itself_ I did not and could not obtain. After sitting at the table nearly an hour, faint, cold and hungry, I went to my room, in which a small fire had been made at my request, at the expense of another half dollar. The room being cold and damp, with so bad a prospect before me, I locked my door, put the key in my pocket, and went down Broadstreet, until I came to Thresher’s Broadstreet hotel, and told the host my story. He agreed to furnish me the best fare, unaccompanied by a bill of it, a good room to myself, warmed constantly by a good coal fire, for one dollar a day. Upon these terms we agreed, and I went back to the Broadway tavern. The Broadstreet hotel is the same house, which was occupied by General Washington as his head quarters, when he took possession of the city, after the British army had left it, at the conclusion of the revolutionary war. Standing in front of a large opened window in the second story, his officers standing before him in the street, below him, General Washington delivered to them his farewell address. From the house, his officers accompanied him to the wharf, not very distant from this spot, where he took his final leave of his companions in arms. Having crossed the ferry into New Jersey, he hastened to appear before the continental Congress, then sitting in Annapolis, the now seat of government in the State of Maryland. A painting in the rotundo, represents Washington at Annapolis delivering his farewell address to Congress.