liberally to his education. He was one of the founders of the gallery of paintings in the Park.

The gallery at his own house, No. 13 Greenwich street was opened once a week to every one. Mr. Coles had painted for Mr. Reed those celebrated pictures, the "Course of Life. He gave them to the Historical Society, or at least they are up at the buildings of the Society.

He was very fond of his business, and he never gave it up until he died, in 1836.

He was a thoroughly honest man. He would not have wronged any one out of a cent, if he could have become a millionaire by so doing. He was so honest himself, that he could hardly suspect dishonesty in others.

He was a pew owner in Grace Church, that stood at the corner of Broadway and Rector street, of which Doctor Wainwright was Rector. He was also a pew owner in the Unitarian Church in Chambers street.

Robert Hystop is dead. He was an old merchant of New York. He died March 18th, 1863. He was born in 1787.

He was first in business with Irving & Smith, auctioneers, at 142 Pearl street, as early as 1812, when the firm became Irving, Smith & Hystop. His partner was a brother of Washington Irving.

They afterwards changed their business to hardware importing. Mr. Hystop did a very heavy hardware business for many years, under the name of Robert Hystop & Son. He was much esteemed by every one who knew him. For twenty years he was a vestryman of Trinity Church. He had a fine family of children.

I believe there were four sons and five daughters. The sons, unless I am mistaken, are all dead.

The daughters are married. One married Milton Berger. One married Mr. Brush. One married Edward S. Mesier, a son of old Peter A. Mesier. After his death, I think she married a Mr. Livingston. One married lawyer Graham, David, I think. Mary mar ried Eugene Thorn, a son of Colonel Herman Thorn.

CHAPTER VII.

Looking over the deaths, I discovered this:

"CURTIS.-In Paris, on Monday, February 16, Augusta Curtis, wife of J. D. B. Curtis, Esq., and only daughter of Catharine Lawrence and Baron Alfred Roubell, of that city."

How few of the present day, among the million that now inhabit this city, would think that there was anything remarkable in that, and yet what a train of ideas and of recollections the names will call up to many an old New Yorker.

It carries the minds of old men and women back to the days of the beautiful Kate Lawrence, and her beau, the dashing Captain Roubell, who, by the death of his father or uncle, became a French baron.

It carries back the recollections of still older people to the times when Captain Roubell's father, General Roubell, was aid-de-camp to the Prince Jerome Bonaparte, who was obliged to put into the port of Baltimore to escape the English fleet. Jerome, afterwards King of Westphalia, fell in love with Miss Patterson. His aid, Roubell, was not to be outdone, and he fell in love with her friend, one of the three beautiful Miss Paszaults (pronounced Pa-ko), of Baltimore City. Their father was a Frenchman, or rather a native of St. Domingo, who escaped from the negro massacre of 1798, and reached Baltimore with considerable property.

Jerome Bonaparte finally married his flame, Miss Pat terson, and so did General Roubell, who succeeded in marrying his sweatheart, the lovely Miss Pascault.

Another sister married General Columbus O'Don

nell, of Baltimore. The O'Donnell girls were all beautiful, and some of them married in New York. C. O'Donnell is the richest man in the "Monumental City," save one.

Those dashing and clever Generals (Stuart) of the Rebel service are Baltimore people, and the eldest Stuart was a beau of the youngest Miss Pascault. He, at that time, was a lawyer; had founded the free school system of Baltimore, and commanded the regiment in that city that ranked a pet one, as does our Seventh Regiment in this city. He was defeated then by James Gallatin, of our city, who fairly cut him out, and won the lovely prize, and she is now Mrs. James Gallatin. Her sisters were charming and extremely lovely, but Mrs. Gallatin was really beautiful. To see her, gaze on her beauty as she passed through the streets, was actually food for many persons. She was in the streets every day of her life, as was the case with all of the splendid women of Baltimore of that day, many of whom are now duchesses and countesses in Europe. They were in the streets two-thirds of the time while the sun shone, and not shut up in unhealthy but magnificent parlors, as is the case with our pale-faced, handsome women.

The other Miss Pascault, who married General Roubell, was also a magnificent creature, though not per haps so regally beautiful as the one who married James Gallatin. By the way, I often use that word, and I will tell what my idea is of its meaning, and what it

used to mean in the good old times a hundred years ago. There is a great difference between the words handsome, pretty and beautiful. It is their fate to be used indiscriminately in the present day, when applied to the female sex. Yet there never were three words that had a more different meaning. By a handsome girl, I understand one that is tall, graceful, and well-shaped, with a regular disposition of features; by a pretty one, I mean one that is delicately made, and whose features are so formed as to please; by a beautiful girl, like Miss Pascault, a union of both handsome and pretty.

A girl may be pretty and not handsome handsome and not pretty but to be beautiful, she must be both. pretty and handsome.

Many a handsome woman has a forbidding counte

nance.

Many pretty women have been crooked and deformed. One may walk Broadway for six weeks without meeting one such really beautiful girl as was the youngest of the Miss Pascaults (Mrs. Gallatin.) A beautiful woman is rarely to be met with. The reason is nature is too much interfered with. A "tom boy" (as a natural girl is called,) ought to be the glory of the sex. If a girl is running, romping, riding and exercising in the sun ten hours a day, she is doing what God intended she should do, and to become perfect, beautiful, and fit to be the mother of a healthful and a glorious race. What matters the other silly, half acquired, forlorn accomplishments? It would perhaps conduce more to her real happiness as well as health, if she could not write. Then she would not be compromising herself and getting into all sorts of scrapes by writing love letters in after years.