10. NY July 1852

That Monday morning, either the 13th or the 14th of July [July 12 dw], everyone was on deck, each dressed as if for a holiday. The exciting prospect of a prompt debarkation was reflected on the faces. As for me, the same feeling of anxiety which I had had upon embarking came over me once more, only stronger. And I can say that every time that I found myself faced with the unknown, a sense of nervous apprehension never failed to overwhelm any feeling of optimism I might have cherished. Since I am a Christian it is different. In face of the unknown, I feel God's presence with me.

The customs officers came on board, looking over the ship and the trunks of the passengers, then all at once we found ourselves surrounded by row boats. They belonged in some cases to persons who had come out to see if the expected friends were on board; in others were mobs of agents recommending the different hotels. The one which was following us was agent for the Thomas Chatillon which gave board and lodging for two dollars and a half per week.

The appearance of the hotel was not bad for emigrants. There were four beds in each room; two persons to the bed, and the beds were infested by vermin. I stayed there one week, at the end of which time, I found work at Fellows & Cooper, 11 Maiden Lane. I had paid for my room in advance, and on Sunday my purse was stolen from the pocket of my trousers while I slept. I thought it was a roommate by the name of Morel, as he was known for other thefts. So I left and went to an American boarding house on William Street. There I paid more, but I had my own bed; and I had but one roommate. There were no bedbugs.

The two hotels seemed to me representative of the traits of character of the two nations. In the French boarding house there was much noise, impassioned discussions concerning the most trifling subjects --- discussions filled more with vanity than with wisdom. Amongst the Americans, one heard not the least noise during a meal. If someone asked of his neighbor to pass the bread or a glass of water, he spoke in a low voice. All the men at this table had lean faces, serious looks, even sickly, slow of movements, no giddiness, no freedom from a dull convention. Everything with them was discipline. If the steam from the soup gave them the need to use their handkerchiefs, they sniffed. That was the style; and everyone did it. One might have called them funeral diners.

Opposite my boarding house was the store of Beauron, a family from Porrentruy, real Swiss and true Catholics. The father might have been fifty years of age and was full of energy. The wife was bigoted and timid, like most old Swiss country women. The eldest son, Joseph, who was of my age, was one of that type of watchmaker that one finds in Switzerland --- thin, sickly, sensitive, and never in need of amusement or exercise. All his going out consisted of but a little walk in the evening with me, as far as the City Hall. Monsieur Beauron worked for several watchmakers, sometimes for Tiffany, but always at work that their workmen were unable to do. His store was very narrow, and he didn't like to wait on customers. He had many supplies, which he imported from Switzerland. This brought in many customers of the different watchmakers from various surrounding places, who, in bringing in the difficult work to do, bought his materials. Then they asked him for watches. Seeing all this, he enlarged his store; and earned more from his sales than from his work. The father felt that to wait on customers should be for Joseph a rest from the close attention which his work demanded. The Beaurons rented the entire building and rented out rooms, from which they made a good profit. They were worthy folks, who loved their countrymen.

I associated with my friend Henri, the gardener, and Kleinknecht, the confectioner. We bought two pineapples for twenty-five cents. The gardener, who had cultivated them in the Midi of France in greenhouses, and had sold them for as much as fifteen francs apiece, was greatly surprised to find them at this price. We talked for a long time upon the subject of pineapples, and we decided that we would devote all we could make, to the purchase of the precious fruit, the which I was charged to preserve under the directions of my confectioner friend.

Thus, each evening, under conditions of greatest heat, I would make my fire and boil my syrup, into which the pineapples were plunged, they becoming very attractive in appearance. I preserved some in whiskey, also.

We bought also moccasins and caps and all we could find from the Indians we met. All this was to be taken to France, sold at enormous prices, and the money was to be used in buying wine from the Midi, the profit on which should also be great. I concentrated upon this all the money I earned up to the New Year. Then Xavier Henri sailed, first to England, where he had to pay high customs upon the boxes which must not be unsoldered. Then, upon arrival in France, he had to again pay duty. Arriving at Lyons, he offered his confection of pineapple to a confectioner, who told him that, had they been fresh, he could have paid him a good price; but that being preserved, they had lost their value. The merchandise of the Indians found little demand, so that the gardener had only the necessary funds for his re-crossing of the ocean. Thus, at the beginning of the year 1853, I had not yet a single dollar as a start on my fortune. I have never had doubts about the gardener. He was honest; but I see that to mix in a business, one must know something about it, as was not the case with us.