remember when Bishops McGill and Keane officiated there. There was once a theological discussion carried on through the newspapers between the Bishop McGill and Doctor Plummer, of the Presbyterian denomination, who were two intellectual giants, and were well matched in vigor and zeal. I recall an amusing incident: there lived out on the Brook Turnpike a certain lady who drove to church every Sunday to her carriage, a pair of rat-tailed sorrel horses that always came quietly down the street to the church, but when their mistress was once in the vehicle, and their heads were turned homewards, after services were over, they ran at a sharp gallop all the way until they reached the front gate at their home.

A very attractive feature of these churches was the fine choir music, which I am sure has never been surpassed. I remember when the choir of Monumental was composed of Mr. John Tyler, Miss Emily Denison and other noted vocalists, while at the organ presided Mr. Leo Wheat. When the funeral services were held there of Major Wheat, the commander of the New Orleans Tigers, who was killed at Cold Harbor in 1862, Miss Denison sang a solo, entitled “I Would Not Live Always.” I thought it one of the sweetest and most pathetic hymns that I ever heard. At Saint Paul’s Madam Rhul was the leading soprano, and her notes were as sweet as the warbling of a mocking bird. On one occasion I heard her when she sang that fine old hymn, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” to the air of “When the Swallows Homeward Fly,” and indeed I do not believe that it has ever been surpassed in that grand old edifice.

Among the many interests, commercially speaking, were the real estate firms, for instance I mention, Goddin and Apperson, Taylor and Williams, Hill and Rawlings and Holliday and Rawlings. The movement of real property then was not quite so lively as it is now, but nevertheless they all did a fair business.

Another important business was that of the wholesale drug houses, among the largest were, Purcell, Ladd & Co., Peyton Johnston and Brother, Adie and Gray, William Beers & Co.; and I doubt if there has ever been any larger houses in that line, before or since. Their trade was extensive and came from all parts of the State, and neighboring States to the south. There was then no selling goods through travelling salesmen by samples, but the purchasers came in person direct to headquarters and laid in their supplies.

Another leading feature of Richmond’s make-up was its corps of physicians. A man who is a specialist nowadays in any particular calling is termed a doctor, but I am now only alluding to the Doctors of Medicine—the M.D.’s—the followers of Esculapius of yore. Among these was first and foremost, Francis H. Deane, whose presence even almost revived a patient; many sick fellows recall his genial face when entering the sick chamber. He practiced in our family over thirty years. Also there was Doctor Cunningham, who was regarded as one of the best; Doctor Bell Gibson, who was esteemed the most eminent surgeon in the State. Another noted surgeon was Doctor Petticolas, whose general practice was very extensive. Then I must mention those great and good men, Doctors Skelton and Knox, who were shining lights in their profession, whose memory is cherished, as well as that of old Doctors McCaw and Marks.

The wholesale shoe houses were a big item in the city’s mercantile life. Among the leading ones were Hubbard, Gardner and Carlton, which concern did the largest business in foot-wear in Richmond; their trade was co-extensive with the State. It is doubtful if there is now a house in their line conducting a larger trade. Then there was the old and staunch firm of Putney and Watts, and also White and Page, besides several large retail stores.

At this gentlemen did not wear machine-made boots and shoes, but had them to order by native shoemakers. The fashionable footdress then was Congress gaiters and boots; Oxford ties were worn in the summer. The change in men’s attire is quite distinct, as formerly gentlemen wore broad-cloth made with a Prince Albert or frock coat with pants and vests to match. A very popular style was a blue cloth clawhammer coat with plain brass buttons. Linen suits were much worn in the hot season.

At one time a Mr. Selden kept a large boarding house called “The Richmond,” which stood at the corner of Governor and Ross Streets. It was a fine house and was particularly popular with young clerks, and among the boarders was a unique person named Beau Lambert, he was a very fastidious man in his dress, always wearing a fine black suit with a dress coat, and was particular in parting the skirts of his coat on sitting down. Accordingly one day Henry Thornton, a young fellow, full of fun and tricks, took from the dinner table a dumpling of meal out of a dish of jowl and turnip salad and slipped it in Lambert’s coat pocket. It was a very greasy and disagreeable joke, and the Beau did not find out who was the perpetrator for some days, and of course he was very much displeased, but mutual friends arranged the matter amicably, and they became good friends afterwards.

The gambling establishments were an important part of the city’s life at this juncture. The law against faro banks was not strictly enforced as it is now. Their rooms were elegantly furnished, and every night a sumptuous supper was spread before their patrons, which was greatly enjoyed by many planters coming to town to sell their crops. Among the most popular ones were Worsham and Brother, the Morgan Brothers and Nat Reeves. The credit of these men was as good as that of any merchant in town. I recall an incident in connection with these games, to wit: There were three students at the medical college who were gay and up-to-date boys, but were not blessed with much cash, who frequently visited Mr. Reeve’s rooms. On a certain Saturday night they went out with a tumbrie cart to procure subjects for the college to be dissected. They first backed up the cart in front of his entrance, and then asked each other how much money they had between them; one had a dollar and a half, another two dollars and the other only fifty cents, making all but three dollars, which was not enough with which to get on a good “spree.” So it was arranged, in order to carry out their fun to the best advantage, in the following manner, they appointed one as spokesman to run the small sum in their pool at Mr. Reeves’ bank in a game of faro, and as the boy walked up to the cashier to invest it in “chips,” Mr. Reeves said, “I will not sell you any, for if you should make a run on me you might win from me several hundred dollars, and if I should beat you in the game I should only gain three dollars,” and so, at these words, he took out of the drawer a ten-dollar bank note and handed it to him, saying, “Now boys go ahead, and don’t come back here again tonight.” Now, that was all they wanted; it played right into their hands, for the money enabled them to pass a gay and joyous night. These three youngsters afterwards graduated well, and all of them became successful practitioners of the “Art of Healing.”

Before the beginning of the war between the States. In those days on each “Fourth of July” picnics and barbecues were held. On one of these days I attended a barbecue at Buchanan’s Spring, which was then outside the city in the county of Henrico. A large and enthusiastic crowd was present and there were various devices for promoting mirth and pleasure. A Mr. James Ferguson, one of the city’s most prominent merchants, was there, and also Mr. William F. Watson, a lawyer of high standing. Mr. Ferguson was a man of fine figure and was considered one of the best dancers in town. Mr. Watson was a portly man and weighed about two