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Updated: May 13, 2025
Matters now began to look rather disheartening, I mean, as far as my grand object was concerned. There was but one other port left, and this was between two and three hundred miles distant. I determined however to go to Plymouth. I had already been more successful in this tour, with respect to obtaining general evidence, than in any other of the same length; and the probability was, that, as I should continue to move among the same kind of people, my success would be in a similar proportion according to the number visited. These were great encouragements to me to proceed. At length, I arrived at the place of my last hope. On my first day's expedition I boarded forty vessels, but found no one in these, who had been on the coast of Africa in the Slave-trade. One or two had been there in King's ships; but they had never been on shore. Things were now drawing near to a close; and, notwithstanding my success as to general evidence in this journey, my heart began to beat. I was restless and uneasy during the night. The next morning, I felt agitated again between the alternate pressure of hope and fear; and in this state I entered my boat. The fifty-seventh vessel, which I boarded in this harbour, was the Melampus frigate. One person belonging to it, on examining him in the captain's cabin, said he had been two voyages to Africa; and I had not long discoursed with him, before I found, to my inexpressible joy, that he was the man. I found too, that he unravelled the question in dispute precisely as our inferences had determined it. He had been two expeditions up the river Calab
It was indeed scarcely entitled to the honour of the smallest resentment. If any could be shewn, it must have been for the freedom used by the author, and not for any novelty in his lampoon. There are two poems on this subject, viz. the twenty-ninth and fifty-seventh, in each of which Caesar is joined with Mamurra, a Roman knight, who had acquired great riches in the Gallic war.
This last letter, written supposedly by the owner of the bag, states that she, having left her New York home some time since, is now in the World's Fair City in company with an aunt, whom she describes as rustic, but delightful, and that because they are stopping very near the Fair she feels safe in coming alone on such days as her aunt elects to pass in the quiet of her own apartment; and the only clue to an address is the statement that she enters the grounds by the Fifty-seventh Street gate.
I had waited at the gate at Fifty-seventh Street for three long and precious morning hours, and then I had turned away anathematizing myself, and vowing that hereafter I would attend to my own legitimate business, and not prowl about after an evasive beauty, who, no doubt, had already purchased a new bag and forgotten her loss.
Victor, with some of the troops brought in from Rivoli, the "terrible fifty-seventh demi-brigade," as Bonaparte designated them, attacked Provera at the same time, and threw his ranks into such disorder that he was glad to surrender his entire force.
Cass Gilbert's admirable studio apartment at 200 West Fifty-Seventh Street, New York, is a building of this type. In this seeking for sunlight in our cities, we will come to live on the roofs more and more in summer in the free air, in winter under variformed shelters of glass.
Laura A. Delano, a daughter of William B. Astor, a grant from Fifty-fifth to Fifty-seventh street, Hudson River, at $200 per running foot, and on May 21, 1867, a grant to John Jacob Astor, Jr., of lands under water between Forty-ninth and Fifty-first streets, Hudson River, for the trivial sum of $75 per running foot. Many other grants were given at the same time.
In the Second Division, the Maryland Brigade was on the left, ours on the right, and Winthrop's in reserve. The One Hundred and Ninety-first, including the fragment of the One Hundred and Fifty-seventh, and the Fourth Delaware, were the first line of battle, under Colonel Pattee. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was ordered forward to skirmish.
Ruth Morton had received a fearful shock the evening before, but by the morning she had recovered from the immediate effects of it, although she still felt extremely weak. When Duvall and his little party arrived at the apartment on Fifty-seventh Street, they were received in the library by Mrs. Morton.
Why did you write to me from that place on Fifty-Seventh Street if you weren't there?" Uncle Chris cleared his throat. "In a sense . . . when I wrote . . . I was there." "I suppose that means something, but it's beyond me. I'm not nearly as intelligent as you think, Uncle Chris, so you'll have to explain." "Well, it was this way, my dear. I was in a peculiar position you must remember.
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