20 
House & Garden 
Slowly the streets awoke . . . but not as they awake today. Business was much more 
leisurely then. Albeit drivers of hard bargains, the Quaker business men had none of 
our trusting efficiency. Some of that same leisure characterizes the city in these times 
many Inn were clear¬ 
ing the taproom of the 
litter of the night be¬ 
fore, resanding the 
dark floor and setting 
out fresh churchwar¬ 
den pipes in the racks. 
There was some activity 
on the river; a skiff or 
two and a small boat 
with a sail made the 
most of the open water, 
doubtless returning well 
laden from some duck 
hunting trip. 
Now and then a 
thrifty merchant en¬ 
tered his office, w'here 
the clerk had several 
hours ago taken down 
the shutters and swept 
out the entry. 
Up near Third Street, 
children stiffly attired 
in their best were wait¬ 
ing on the little front 
steps for their parents 
to emerge and bid 
them start for church. 
Coaches were rolling to 
the doors of the finer houses, chariots arid 
chaises were frequent in the streets and occa¬ 
sionally a chair was seen. As the bells rang 
out the sidewalks quickened with life, and 
neighbors and friends stopped and exchanged 
the courtly greetings of the day. 
Unless he chanced to be at Monticello, it is 
likely that Citizen Jefferson, in the ostenta¬ 
tiously sober garb he fancied, moved slowly 
among the pedestrians. His Excellency the 
President had doubtless joyfully taken himself 
off to Mount Vernon to spend his holidays in 
his accustomed manner. 
No one hurried. Leisure was not the rare 
thing it is today. The churches filled gradu¬ 
ally with richly clad worshippers, who, we 
trust, gave the same satisfaction to their clergy¬ 
men that Manassah Cutler’s congregation did 
to him. Heavy coaches from the outlying dis¬ 
tricts were drawn up outside. Riding horses 
were hitched to the rows of posts, safeguard 
petticoats on some saddles showing the care 
taken by the fair riders to protect their finery 
from the stains of travel. Over all brooded 
the calm of Christmas morning that is ever 
vaguely felt today despite the racketing of 
traffic, the mad rush of motors and the deter¬ 
mined haste of the pedestrians. 
All the brave raiment of a new nation still 
untaught in the ways of economy and cau¬ 
tion, and not yet feeling the deep depression 
that was surely coming, filled the streets with 
color when church was over and people re¬ 
turned to their homes and their great family 
dinners. 
G EORGIAN portals opened and closed 
along Pine Street and Spruce Street op¬ 
posite the hospital grounds, as crinolines and 
hoops edged in with care, and the feminine 
owners betook themselves to their chambers to 
reshape the wonderful coiffures and adjust the 
remarkable head dresses over which they spent 
so much time and thought. Silks and satins 
were the order of the day, and when homespun 
was urged by those wiser heads who feared for 
the country’s industry, beauty and fashion 
shrugged their shoulders and went on reckless¬ 
ly ordering finery from France and England. 
In time the delectable dinners of terrapin, 
oysters, canvasback duck, wild turkey and reed 
birds served with Madeira of the vintage of 
1745, were over; and as early guests were ex¬ 
pected the rooms were quickly set in order and 
the hostesses hurried upstairs to don even 
more radiant silks, fasten ruffs about bare 
throats and place a patch here and there. Some 
repaired to the powdering room with which the 
great houses were equipped, and there, in the 
tiny windowless closet, their hair was heavily 
deluged with the scented stuff. 
Downstairs the candles lighted at an early 
hour gave an air of festivity to the fine rooms. 
The drawing room, relentlessly shuttered from 
sunlight and air, had 
its furniture ranged se¬ 
verely about the white 
paneled walls. A great 
gilt girondole hung in 
the center of the room, 
holding many candles, 
all reflected in the mir¬ 
rors between the win¬ 
dows. An odd little 
lacquer stand with an 
inlaid box of carved 
ivories shared one wall 
space with a fine old 
lounge, shapely chairs, 
a spinet and a table 
with claw feet. Against 
the other wall stood a 
tall chest of drawers, 
accompanying chairs, a 
pair of card tables and 
an inlaid cabinet. 
There were candles in 
sconces and candle¬ 
sticks on the chest, with 
a snuffer and tray of 
shining brass. 
In the dwelling room 
across the entry there 
was a different atmos¬ 
phere. Here a high-backed seat flanked one 
side of the fireplace, a big wing chair the other. 
A drop-leaf mahogany table with a festive ar¬ 
ray of china and glass was the central point of 
interest. There were other chairs, comfortable 
and graceful, a tall clock and a cupboard or 
dresser hospitably arrayed. There were also 
benches and long forms, well-cushioned. The 
fireplace glowed with reflected flame on the pol¬ 
ished brass of fender and fire dogs and tongs. 
Soon the guests began to arrive, and the 
colored page in Oriental turban and suit with 
scarlet facings answered the ever-drumming 
knocker. The women crowded the stairs as 
they went up to the best bedroom to lay aside 
their wraps and calashes. And as they passed 
down again with the half eager hesitancy that 
people commonly show when approaching 
lights, laughter and the round of festive gath¬ 
ering, the men waited at the stair foot to toast 
them, laughingly, with the steaming punch 
that the negro maid was passing. 
Greens twined the stair rails and were fes¬ 
tooned around the walls of the rooms. Every 
now and then a serving man in dark small¬ 
clothes and silver buttons entered and laid 
some driftwood from the river upon the blaz¬ 
ing fire, and charged the red glow with leaping 
purple and green flames. 
Lemonade was served and later that delight¬ 
ful innovation, ice cream, in dainty, fragile, 
(Continued on page 68) 
Although today, in the midst of Phila¬ 
delphia’s ghetto, Christ Church is jealously 
preserved, it was once one of the centers of 
the nation’s life. It is among our finest 
architectural monuments of the past 
