THE WALTON HOUSE,

Pearl-street, New-York.

[Taken from Volume IX. of the New-York Mirror.]

What citizen or stranger has ever passed through Franklin Square, in this city, without gazing with interest on an antiquated, large, three-story edifice, built in the English baronial style of the last century? It is called the "Walton House," because it was erected by an aristocratical Englishman of that name, nearly a century ago, and has ever since remained in the family. The entrance hall is in the centre of the building, with large, oldfashioned parlors and drawing-rooms on each side. The portal is in fine keeping with the style of architecture, which then distinguished the English patrician from the plebeians. The portico is supported by two fluted columns, and surmounted with the armorial bearings of the Walton family richly carved and ornamented; but, like all insignia of nobility on this side the Atlantic, somewhat the worse for wear. Were we conversant with the technics of heraldry, these arms should be described; but being totally ignorant of the mysteries of that profound science, we are not competent to the task. The pride of ancestry is a kind of pride of which we know nothing, although we have read much; and so long as we know that our grandfather did his duty in the revolutionary war, an received a certificate of approbation from Washington, we are not ashamed of him, and feel quite indifferent whether he inherited "the blood of all the Howards," or whether one of his remote progenitors actually turned the spit which sustained the goose which fed the queen when she heard the news of her foe's defeat on Shrove Tuesday.

The Walton House is now No. 326 Pearl-street, in the midst of a most dense population; but, when it was first erected, there was but one building on that side of the street, between Peck Slip and the commencement of Cherrystreet. The diagonal junction of the latter with Pearl-street, then created an acute point of land, which now constitutes Franklin Square. At the period to which we allude, there were not half a dozen buildings in Pearlstreet, north of Franklin Square. For many years afterward, that region, comprising at present the populous streets called Roosevelt, James, Oliver, Catherine, and Oak, together with Batavia-lane, was an impassable bog, denominated "Swamp Meadow," being almost wholly covered with stagnant water, holding communication with the Collect by a stream which crossed Chatham-street.

That section of the city which is still called the "Swamp,” extending from Beekman to Frankfort-street, was then literally a swamp, being a wet, boggy waste, covered with trees and bushes, where wild birds built their nests and laid their eggs, as they fondly thought, far from the invasion of wicked school-boys, who learned their ab, abs, somewhere in Broad-street. Here, also, did sportsmen resort for game; here did whole herds of swine, not then employed as city scavengers, earn their own living by rooting up roots and ground nuts and here were luscious blackberries, far more plenty than satisfactory reasons for winding Pearl-street round the margin of this quagmire. The natural course of Pearl-street from Peck Slip, is Cherry-street. But the whole city (modern improvements always excepted) is a labyrintha puzzle—a riddle-incomprehensible to philosophers of the present day. This family dwelling-house was, in its day-indeed, still is--a noble speci

men of English architecture a century ago. It is a brick edifice, 50 feet in front, and three stories high, built with Holland bricks, relieved by brown stone water-tables, lintels, and jams, with walls as substantial as many modern churches, standing along the south side of Pearl street, formerly called Queen-street. The superb staircase in its ample hall, with its mahogany hand-rails and bannisters, by age as dark as ebony, would not disgrace a nobleman's palace. It is the only relic of the kind that probably at this period remains in the city, the appearance of which affords an air of grandeur not to be seen in the lighter staircases of modern buildings.

This venerable mansion is one of the very few remaining in uninterrupted succession in the family of the original proprietor. It was erected in 1754, by William Walton, Esq., who lived and died a bachelor, and bequeathed by him to his nephew, the late Honorable William Walton, whose son, advanced in years, now occupies the premises. The family of Walton, of English ancestry, is one of the most respectable of this city; we know not whether allied to the Reverend Izaak Walton, of angling memory, whose delectable treatise on the subject will be read and esteemed by amateurs of the rod, line, and hook, as long as waters flow and trout swim. The first William was distinguished by the appellation of Boss Walton, by way of pre-eminence. The title is Dutch, and given even now by apprentices and subordinates to their principals and superiors.

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Boss Walton was a merchant, and resided in Hanover Square. He acquired an ample fortune by an advantageous contract with some Spaniards of St. Augustine, which enabled him to build by far the most expensive, capacious, and elegant house at that period in New-York. When the foundation was laid, his fellow-citizens all wondered that he should choose a site so far out of town, it being on almost at the eastern extremity of the city, but at the present time it considerably west of the centre, between the Battery and Corlaer's-hook This edifice was the pride and admiration of our plain citizens of former days-and children, as the writer of this article well remembers, as an incentive to good behaviour through the week, were treated with a walk on Saturday afternoon, to see and admire Boss Walton's fine house.

Boss Walton was very hospitable, and gave, as he could well afford, the most sumptuous entertainments of any person in those plain, but bountiful days. At the termination of the old and last French war with this country, in 1759, (which was crowned by the conquest of Canada, whereby the British colonies in America, and especially the province of New York, were relieved from the incursions and aggressions of the French, and the dreadful terrors and sufferings by the tomahawk and scalping knife of their savage allies, the Indians,) every demonstration of joy was evinced by the good citizens of Albany and New-York.

The British army, on its return from Canada, was hailed and treated with the most profuse prodigality. Among others, Boss Walton entertained the chief officers, in a magnificent manner. His table was spread with the choicest viands, and a forest of decanters, sparkling with the most delicious wines. The sideboard groaned with the weight of brilliant, massive silvernone of your tinsel, superficial, plated ware, that dazzles and mock the eyes of modern times.

After the peace of 1763, the English Parliament manifested its intention of taxing the colonies, for the purpose of refunding the debt incurred by the recent war. The colonies had no objections to paying their liberal quota of the expenses, but wished to do it in their own way, through the medium of their own legislatures, which were best acquainted with the circumstances of the people, and remonstrated against "taxation without representation ;" pleading, moreover, that the colonists, harassed by long and sanguinary wars, were poor and exhausted-which was the fact. The plea, however, was

rebutted in Parliament, by an appeal to the elegant entertainments given by the citizens of New York to the officers of the British army, and the dazzling display of silver plate at their dinners, equal, if not superior, to any nobleman's, which hospitality and exhibitions were adduced as proofs of the wealth and prosperity of the colonies. But every colonist was not a Boss Walton-the generality of our merchants and citizens were humble, but not indigent. Remonstrances were vain-the ministry persisted-the stamp act, duties on teas, &c., were soon enacted, which led to discontent and riots, and opposition to the mother-country ensued.

The Boston port bill and reinforcement of British soldiers in that town followed, which led to the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, the Declaration of Independence, and a seven year's war, that ultimately terminated in its acknowledgment by the British king, and the emancipation of these United States from foreign thraldom and subjugation Long may they ex ist, free from domestic strife, and in their present happy enjoyment of civil and religious liberty!