IL
 

be many, who read this
because, forsooth, I did
I "machine" or that "fire
 

, AM  satisfied  that there will

; book,   who will object  to   il
''(SnB®a\1 "°'' devote more space to th

'laddie," or because I did not say something interest¬
ing of somebody's friends. I am not writing this book to please any
particular members of the "ancient and honored past," but to give
a true and interesting sketch of incidents and characters of the Old
Volunteer Fire Department.

It was only a few days ago that I stood on the corner of Ann
Street and Broadway watching the steady stream of humanity pass¬
ing to and fro, and my memory went back to many years ago when
this identical locality was the most popular thoroughfare of the
"fire laddies" of New York. The first I remember of the corner
of Ann Street and Broadway,—for custom has settled the fact that
Park Row ends on t'other corner,—Charles Del Vecchio, an Italian
of considerable notoriety, occupied the corner as a looking-glass and
picture-frame manufactory. It was the principal store of the kind
in the city, and no one thought of purchasing a large plate of glass
of any one except Del Vecchio. He was, at a certain time, a poli¬
tician of some note, and hailed from the old sixth ward, and with
Dr. Vache, Shirers Parker, John Foote, George D. Strong, and
Clarkson Crolius, guided the democracy of the sixth ward.

Shortly after the rebuilding of the museum edifice, the basement
of this corner was occupied by a colored man, whose name  I  fail to