FIFTY YEARS OF MUSEUM WORK 



7 



later on, and not only did the information incidentally gathered sub- 

 sequently prove important, — but for these voyages our little family would 

 rarely have been together. Some of them really count for little, two, 

 from Philadelphia to Liverpool and back, being made when I was respec- 

 tively six and seven years of age, those being the days of sailing packets. 

 My father commanded the "Stalwart," voyaging between Philadelphia 

 and Liverpool, carrying over corn and, incidentally, rocking-chairs and 

 corn broom for friends, and bringing back emigrants and a few horses 

 and cattle. So it chanced that my earliest riding was aboard ship when 

 the ponies were being exercised in fine weather. 



My first long voyage was made in 1861-62, from New York to San 

 Francisco, Japan, China and around the Cape of Good Hope back to 

 New York, barely escaping the Confederate Cruiser "Florida" which 

 was intercepting and destroying our clipper ships. The date 1861 

 means little or nothing to the present generation, but it was the year 

 of the commencement of the Civil War and New York saw much of the 

 preparation for it. City Hall Park was filled with temporary wooden 

 barracks and drill squads were continually at work, and in company 

 with thousands of others, I watched the Seventh Regiment and, later, 

 the "Gallant Sixty-ninth" leave for the front. 



I spent many hours at the window of the United States Hotel in 

 New York looking toward Fulton Ferry and admiring the gaily painted 

 omnibuses. Fifty years later, when Curator-in-Chief of the Brooklyn 

 Museum, I was to learn that the pretty landscapes that decorated their 

 sides were the work of a struggling artist, John Quidor, whose largest 

 work was then in that institution. 



This voyage took me quite around the world and accustomed me to 

 being at sea for months at a time, so that to be told of a "long voyage " 

 of twelve days always makes me smile. 



Yokohama was one of the ports visited, and Europeans were such 

 rare objects at that date (1861) that going up the Bay of Yedo we were 

 fairly mobbed by fishing boats whose occupants had never before seen a 

 white woman and child. In Yokohama I was frequently followed about 

 the streets by clusters of people to whom a white boy with red hair was a 

 curiosity, and on several occasions it fell to me to kneel with others at 

 the roadside while some Daimio with his retinue passed— all of which 

 makes me realize the flight of time. 



There were interesting experiences, too, at Shanghai: the Tae-ping 

 rebellion was in full blast and on our way up the river we passed blazing 

 villages, while it was a common sight to see some corpse drifting down 



