Adjoining The Town-Hall, Or Separated Only By An Avenue, Is A Heavy, Monastic-Looking Building, Used As A Bridewell, And Called The City Penitentiary.

Having remained a considerable time in the hall where the trial was going on, the agonized state of the

Prisoner and sickening details of the murder caused a disinclination for the present to continue my perambulations, so I stepped into the Cafe de l'Independence, in Broadway, and called for a port-wine sangaree, endeavouring, while I sipped it, smoked a cigar, and read the _Courier and Inquirer_, to forget the scene I had just witnessed. Leaving soon after, I pursued my way down Broadway, passing Peel's Museum and the Astor House, to the Battery Marine Promenade. This is a delightful spot, the finest in point of situation (although not in extent) of the kind I ever saw, the Esplanade at Charleston in South Carolina, of which I shall have by-and-by to speak more particularly, being excepted.

Ladies and gentlemen were promenading up and down, under the umbrageous foliage of the lofty trees which skirt the Battery Park, and which were as yet unscathed by the recent frosts, forming a delightful retreat from the scorching rays of an American sun. The sea view from this point, with the adjacent scenery, is interesting and attractive; the broad expanse of ocean in the distance, the highlands looming in the perspective, the numerous aquatic birds skimming the surface of the estuary, and the picturesque fort and woody shores of New Jersey, all tending to diversify the scene and add to its natural beauty.

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