OF OLD NEW YORK

are-to be seen at Mrs. M. Mullen's in the Square, and will be
sold very reasonable, the Person designing to leave this Place
soon.—A/^. Y. Weekly Post Boy, Aug. 27, 1750.
 

Thursday Evening last, The Tragedy of Cato, was play'd at the
Theatre in this City, before a numerous Audience, the greater
part of whom were of Opinion, that it was pretty well per-
form'd: As it was the fullest Assembly that has appeared in
that House, it may serve to prove that the Taste of this Place
is not so much vitiated, or lost to a Sense of Liberty, but that
they can prefer a Representation of Virtue to those of a loose
Character.—Af. Y. Weekly Post Boy, Sept. 24, 1750.
 

Putting Out a Fire 1794

About the year 1794 the fire-engines were of a very inferior
quality; we had no water, except from wooden-handle pumps.
By a law of the Corporation every owner of a dwelling was
obliged to procure a fire bucket for every fire place in the house
or back kitchen; these buckets held three gallons, made of sole
leather; they were hung ih the passage near the front door.
When the bell rang for fire, the watchman, firemen and boys
while running to the fire, sung out, "Throw out your buckets."
They were picked up by men, women, and boys running to the
fire. Two lines were formed, from the fire to the nearest
pump; when the pump gave out, the lines were carried to the
nearest river; one line passed down the empty, the other passed
up the full buckets; if a person tried to break through the lines
he was compelled to fall in, or get nearly drowned by buckets
of water thrown over him. The buckets were marked by the
name and number of the owner. Every morning after a fire the
Corporation carmen went to the streets near the fire, picked up
the buckets, and dumped them in the lobby of the old City Hall,
which then stood where now stands the Custom-house; people
then sent their children or servants to bring home the buckets,
when they were hung up in the front entry to await the next fire.
De Voe's Market Book.
 

The Myriad Marvels of Manhattan

There be who love to sneer and mock
At this, the town of me and you;

Who say they never get a shock,
Who find no thing unique and new.

They err.    The strange, the new shall lurk
Within this town while it endures.

Why, just last night a soda clerk
Asked only once of me "What's yours ?"

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