There was a great influx of visitors in the city. The streets were
thronged; the stages were crowded. One wonders what they did without
electric cars. But numbers of people still kept carriages, and temporary
lodging-houses were erected in the vicinity of the Palace. It certainly
was a great thing for that day. And the interior, with its handsome
dome, its galleries, its arched naves, and broad aisles, had a striking
and splendid effect.

And, oh, the riches of the world that had contributed some of its
choicest treasures! There were many people who never expected to go to
Europe, and who were glad beyond measure to have it come to them. Here
was the largest collection of paintings and sculpture that had ever been
gathered in New York. Then, for the first time, we saw Powers' matchless
Greek slave, and Kiss' Amazon, and many another famous marble. There was
the row of the Apostles by the sculptor Thorwaldsen, about which there
was always a concourse of people; and some of the devout could almost
see them in the flesh.

We have had a Centennial since, and a famous White City, and almost any
day, in New York, you can see some famous pictures and statuary. Then
people run over to Europe, and study up the galleries, and write books
of exquisite descriptions; but it was not so at that time. There is the
grand Museum of Art near to where the old Palace stood; but all was new
then. We had not been surfeited with beauty; we had not had a flood of
art critics, praising or denouncing, and schools of this or that fad. It
is good for cities, as well as nations, that they should once be young,
and revel in the enchanting sense of freshness and delight.

Presently, it became a sort of regular thing to go,--a kind of
summer-day excursion. There were delightful walks and drives up above.
Bloomingdale was still a garden of sweetness. Riverside was unknown,
only as the beautiful bank of the Hudson. You went and carried your
lunch, or you found some simple cottage, where a country-woman dispensed
truly home-made bread, and delicious ham, and a glass of milk,
buttermilk on some days.

The remembrance of it to Hanny Underhill, through all her after years,
was as of a golden summer. The little knot of young people kept
together. When Josie Dean recovered somewhat, from the first transports
of her engagement, she proved very companionable. Charles, in his long
vacation, was quite at their service. Jim couldn't always be at liberty;
but h