Small houses, some of which may still be seen, straggled out
along Church street, to what is now called Fort Barbour, though not so
called till twelve years later. There was hardly an elegant private
residence in the city. The bricks, of which the best houses were built,
were rough and roughly laid. The houses had no conveniences, except here
and there a closet. They were, however, substantially built, and were
neatly finished within. They invariably had one thing which is fast
passing away. There was the smoke-house in which every housekeeper cured
his meat; and there was the dairy; but how they could put the dairy to
its proper use I could never find out. The people had cows, and the cows
gave milk; but there was no running water, and there was no ice. Long
years passed before ice was introduced. The gentlemen of the bar were
awake, and made out very well--much better than the clergy. The very
youngest of the profession fed freely and voluptuously on the black eyes
and cracked crowns of Little Water street, with an occasional haul from
Exchange alley and the river Styx.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51