ENPages
D6835_Page_1
LETTER FROM "COSMOPOLITE."
NEW YORK, August, 1855.
MR. EDITOR:—I have before me a batch of letters from California, and as most of them contain sketches of social life in that country, I will give your readers a few extracts therefrom. The first is from Cosmopolite, Jr., a perfect chip in every respect:
"You ask me what I do with my money?—Well, as you judge I put the most of it on my back, a young fellow can't live out here and keep his position without dressing well; and you know, sir, clothing here that is good and fashionable, is very expensive, and a young man soon loses caste if he does not dress well.
"We had a dinner party at our ranch on the 25th inst., consisting of about a dozen ladies and gentlemen, among them some old friends—Messrs. N. C., J. F., E. J., and others. The first toast offered was to P. A. B., of N. Y., to which I responded in a long, eloquent and thrilling speech of a minute and a quarter.
"S—r told me you had a set of chess men for me. I would be obliged to you if you will send them to me, as I have not seen a set since I have been in the country. The game is apparently unknown here, except to S— and myself."
In another letter he says: "Mr. Abraham Cox was buried last week. He was originally called Dandy Cox in New York, but that must have been before my day. Why he received the nick-name Dandy, I'm sure I can't tell, for he was not much of the dandy here. He had a very long and respectable funeral. The Masons turned out in full regalia, accompanied by Groome's Brass Band."
Mr. Robert B—s, formerly of Detroit, and an old correspondent of yours, writes as follows: "The day for making rapid fortunes in California is passed, unless by some lucky hit in speculation. As in the Eastern States, money can only be made by actual manual labor, or by shrewd business capacity. True, more money can be made here than there in a given time; and many can, and I hope will, realize sufficient to render them comfortable at home, should they ever return; but large fortunes are beyond our expectations.
Still, this is a great country, my master! From being the recipients of the produce, and refuse of all the world, we are now shipping produce to New York, Liverpool, Australia, and dead Chinamen to China. The clipper ship Sunny South, sailed from this port a few days since, with one hundred cases of dead Chinamen on board, for Hong Cong. New York can't come up to that. You may search history in vain for a parallel to the sudden change this country has made, from being a great importing country to an exporting one.—Your merchants and produce dealers seem reluctant to believe the fact; but it will pay a profit to send you produce. Great country, this, I say again.
One the 1st inst. (June,) a new gambling law went into operation. If carried into effect, it will go far towards suspending all the Monti Banks in the State. (Can't you get up one for Wall Street?) It is a fac simile of the Massachusetts law, and, of course, very stringent.—We have now laws against loafers, (keep away, master [Cos.?]) gamblers and harlots; so you perceive we are getting exceedingly moral, and have great hopes for our eternal salvation.—Laus deo!"
The next is from Mr. J. H. T., formerly editor of the Hyperion, a literary periodical of considerable merit, which had an ephemeral existence here some seven or eight years ago.—Brother T— was educated in one of the Eastern colleges, and was, I believe, destined to the ministry. He came to this city about ten years ago, a tall, sedate, prim, puritanical, intellectual looking young man. We soon took the starch out of him, i.e., his Puritanism, and transformed him from an embryo country parson to a regular New York business man. A happy transformation.
Six years ago, in the spirit of adventure, he went to California, where he has made his mark. He was one of the founders of the San Francisco Athenæum, and has been foremost in every enterprize which has for its object the benefit of the colored people of the country. But to his letter.
"I have become so much of a Californian, that the refinement of the Eastern States would almost present a novelty to me. San Francisco has arisen from a miserable village of a few huts to become a great city, covering an area of some six square miles; and it is now the fourth among the great commercial emporiums of the Union, all within the short space of six years, showing a spirit of energy that is unsurpassed in the world's history.
California, to use a vulgar phrase, has, in a great measure, ('caved in,') become like the older states; her palmy days are numbered!—The poor man's chance is like the money on the Monti Bank, very uncertain. We are overrun with hordes of Chinamen and Spaniards, who have reduced wages to almost New York prices. The country is full of speculators—the hirelings of the rich in the Easter States, who monopolize all the avenues that open with any favorable prospects for the poor man.
As to the colored people who are always poor, they are scarcely recognized among the human family in this country. We have no vote, no oath against a white person, no protection against the insults and brutal barbarity of the common street loafers and vagabonds, of which numbers there is not a few; yet there is a good state of public sentiment in our behalf in this city. We are subject, it is true, to most degrading laws; but here we mee with but few insults from the better class of the community.
The colored people here are very active and energetic. They are in almost every class of business, from the highest to the lowest. Some are doing a good business, while others are getting along very poorly. It is the height of my ambition to see colored men take a bold and decided position before the world—a stand upon the platform of truth and justice, and act like men. It will command respect from our most inveterate enemies, and eventually obtain our rights."
No. 5 dates from Sacramento city. It is from a humorous correspondent, who is somewhat of a philosopher withal: "This is emphatically a coon heaven, and you will find more dirty, lazy loafers here than in any other place in California, and I ought to know, for I have travelled a few miles around these diggings. Why, it is a perfect Church Street; and, thank God, we have none of the sisters of the moon here, or we would have Anthony Street and West Broadway realized. It seem when a coon gets out of business, or is too lazy to work, he puts off for Sacramento city, where he lounges around as happy as if the devil had him."
The 6th is from my Oregon Correspondent, where every line is a jewel. Under date of Portland, July 6th, 1855, he says: "Well, the day for celebrating mock republicanism has just passed; it went off with considerable hilarity. The old U. S. War Steamer Massachusetts, was laying in our river. The road of her cannon on the morning of the Fourth, echoed through our mountains like an earthquake, our cannon from the shore answering. The drums beating and bells ringing, reminded me of Fourth of July in New York. The Sabbath Schools (in one of which I am superintendent) met, and we had a grand pic-nic. They called on me for a song, to be sung on the occasion. In the hurry of business, I gave them the enclosed thoughts:
FOURTH OF JULY SONG
FOR THE PORTLAND SABBATH SCHOOLS.
Tune—BRUCE'S ADDRESS.
Freedom's glorious day is here,
Each young heart is filled with cheer,
We'll shout aloud, hurrah! hurrah!
For Freedom's Jubilee.
We'll raise our voices high in air,
Each and all again declare,
Brightest, happiest thought in life,
God and Liberty.
That banner floating high in air,
Proud emblem of each fleeting year,
When this day doth greet us here,
Freedom's Jubilee.
Along this broad Pacific coast,
A valiant Nation's pride and boast,
May you rear a willing host,
To marshall with the free.
New England sires, hear our prayer;
From the Pacific coast-bound shore,
We're pleading for our rights so dear,
Liberty to all.
We want no marshall glory's crown,
A moral battle's easiest won;
Our stars and stripes kept pure from shame,
For God and Liberty.
Onward! travelling as a hand,
On Freedom's chariot through the land,
Echoing loud our great command,
We must and will be free.
On to victory pure and bright,
We plant our motto on the right,
Pleading with our Fathers' might,
Freedom and the Right.
* * * * The laws have carried the territory this election, returning old Joe Lane to Congress. So Oregon is in favor of Nebraska and Slavery. Since the election the first anti-slavery meeting in the territory has convened. Next October we hold a Convention. The battle has just commenced."
So much, Mr. Editor, for my Californian correspondence. How my friends will state, and may be scold a few, when they see themselves done up in print, as not one of them ever ex pected to see or hear aught again of their letters; but I will not be selfish and keep all the good things to myself.
I see by the last accounts from Liberia, that Mr. Benson is elected President of the Republic. My little friend Johnson was unsuccessful in his electioneering labors, and he will not be Attorney General after all. Well, John won't give it up so. One defeat will be no barrier to his ambition. His next attempt will be grand high priest, or head chief of some of the African tribes, or perhaps the Presidency. Who knows? Success to him.
COSMOPOLITE.
