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Updated: May 13, 2025
I was intending to visit some place of amusement, but would much prefer a visit from you." Dick and Fosdick readily accepted this invitation, and turned in the direction of the St. Nicholas, which is situated on Broadway, below Bleecker Street. "By the way, Dick, where are your Washington coat and Napoleon pants now?"
"Are you addressing me, my dear, as your son-in-law or as your father- in-law?" enquired Mr. Van Winkle. "Why do you ask?" she demanded. "Because if you are speaking to me as your son, I prefer to be called Bleecker." "Stuff and nonsense, Mr. Van Winkle! Why, I scarcely know you." "Won't you tell me your Christian name? I can't very well go about calling my daughter MISSIS Van Winkle."
"In Bleecker Street," said Dick, very glad that he was not obliged to say Mott Street. "That is quite a good location," said Mr. Rockwell. "How do you spend your evenings, Richard?" "In studying with a friend of mine," said Dick. "I want to know something by the time I grow up." "That is an excellent resolution," said his employer, with warm approval.
Then in a stupid way I went forward to make my compliments and bend low over the little hand; and as I recovered myself I found her eyes on me for the first time and for a brief second they lingered, soft and wonderful, sweet, tender, wistful. But the next moment they were clear and brilliant again with controlled excitement, as Mrs. Bleecker stepped forward, putting out both hands impulsively.
Cooper returned from abroad in 1833, having added The Prairie, The Red Rover, The Water Witch, and The Bravo to his list of published books, and went to live in Bleecker Street, two blocks from Broadway, near Thompson Street. This was a select neighborhood then of pretty, irregular brick dwellings. The house is there yet, but the neighborhood is no longer elegant.
Passing Hawberk's door again I saw him still at work on the armour, but I did not stop, and stepping out into Bleecker Street, I followed it to Wooster, skirted the grounds of the Lethal Chamber, and crossing Washington Park went straight to my rooms in the Benedick.
When I had finished my copy and had returned to the main room, nothing remained of the afternoon party save Boyd and Lana, whispering together by a window, and the black wench, Gusta, clearing away the debris of the afternoon. Outside in the late sunshine, I could see Mrs. Bleecker and Mrs. Lansing strolling to and fro, arm in arm, but I looked around in vain for Lois.
Grabbing up her demi-train in her bare hand, Henrietta and I also eddied down the street and were lost to view for a few moments in the whirlwind which struck us at the crowded corner of Bleecker Street. This whirlwind was the result partly of physical and partly of human forces. For it was Saturday night, and life was running at flood-tide all over the great city.
This one belonged to some one of the old Knickerbockers whose winter residence was below Bleecker Street and who came up here to spend the summer and so escape the heat of the dog-days. You can see it any day you drive up the Speedway. It has stood there for over a hundred years and is likely to continue. You know its history, too or can, if you will take the trouble to look up its record.
Our host himself, an old friend of mine, quickly appear'd on the scene to welcome me and bring up the news, and, first opening a big fat bottle of the best wine in the cellar, talk about ante-bellum times, '59 and '60, and the jovial suppers at his then Broadway place, near Bleecker street. Ah, the friends and names and frequenters, those times, that place.
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