Mission of Our Lady of the Rosary - Way Station for Irish Immigrant Girls - 7 State Street NYC - Illustrations by Miss G.A. Davis - Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper - 8 Aug 1895

# 7 State Street - Mission of Our Lady of the Rosary - (image date, late nineteenth century)

Across the street from various ferry docks, "South Ferry" Manhattan, first stop in America passing first through Ellis Island, in view of New York Bay/Harbor, next to the Statue of Liberty Island, three charitable organizations, way stations to find work, safe clean housing, set up to cater to individual immigrant groups, newly arrived, and some alone, like Irish girls, making their way to America alone or hoping to join, connect to relatives already here in the promised land at the height of immigration to America at the end of the 19th century.

Mission of Our Lady of the Rosary at # 7 State Street (below), the middle building of the three structures on an irregular lot at the turn/bend of the street - two full facades but more like 1-1/2 houses in terms of space with irregular shaped rooms within. At one time these structures were right on the docks since pushed back by landfill.

Building on left (below), Number 8 State Street, site of at one time the home of Elizabeth Seton around 1800, born in Staten Island in 1774 in her family's summer home. That lot, Number 8 New York structure from when she was a married woman and mother and Episcopalian, before she was widowed and converted to Roman Catholicism and founded the Sisters of Charity religious organization.

# 8 State Street - Lutheran's Pilgrim House

# 7 State Street - Mission of Our Lady of the Rosary

# 6 Leo House - for German Catholic immigrants

King's Handbook of New York, 1893

A Party (of immigrant girls) for Father Callahan.

About the Artist - NY Daily Graphic - 25 Apr 1876.
Artist exhibited at the Women's Pavilion, Centennial Exposition, Philadelphia, 1876.

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Jumbo the Elephant Killed by Train At St. Thomas, Canada - Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, 26 Sept 1885

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Ada Brown Talbot - "The Mine of the Silver Moon" - Author, Editor, Lecturer, Suffragette

(copyright expired)

THE MINE OF THE SILVER MOON

by Ada Brown Talbot

A wedding in Mexico: And, the golden sunlight pouring its blessing over the nuptials like a benediction—as only In Mexico the sun shines! I stood with Don Fernando opposite the - Cathedral and watched the brilliant ensemble—the elite of Zacatecas—as they emerged from the grand old edifice. The bride, a beautiful Mexican girl of the aristocratic class, high bred and haughty, was of a pure Castlillian type, and the tulle veil and orange blossoms gave her the face of a Madonna. The carriages were decorated according to the custom of Mexico, with orange blossoms and tulle on the outside of the doors, and interior daintily draped and the harness resplendent with the same filmy white.

And Zacatecas! How can I describe the historic old city, in the heart of the oldest mining section of Mexico, perched high among the mountains at the dizzy altitude of 8,000 feet! Picturesque, clean, beautiful, delightful! That is the epitome of dear, quaint old Zacatecas.

Don Fernando was my particular friend among my Mexican acquaintances, the more so because, although I spoke his native tongue, he was good enough to realize that his English was at least clear, and I am sure it was picturesque. His friendship meant much to me in those first lonely months in Mexico, and now that mutual tastes had welded intimate friendship and camaraderie, we were seldom separated.

At our backs, as we watched the wedding party disperse, swung the little screen doors of the bar, the most conspicuous feature of the hotel which was temporarily my home, and, In fact, of most hotels in Mexico. Strangely enough mine host was German, but in that country most bonifaces are foreigners. The cuisine is generally Spanish, but at Herr Mueller's I think the menu was a somewhat "improved" Spanish, for a Teutonic dish—the familiar Wiener wurst and sauerkraut— which frequently made its appearance accentuated this impression.

Turning to Don Fernando. I was surprised to discover on his usually cheery face a serious expression foreign to the joyous scene we had just witnessed. He seemed lost in reverie as he nervously smoked his cigar and stared in the direction of the vanishing bridal party. At my suggestion we adjourned to the hotel patio—the typical garden or the Mexican home—where we could quietly smoke and sip our cognac. Still Don Fernando saw, far off. something that I could not see, something that gripped his heart, and that I was determined to know— unless it was for his heart alone.

"Don Fernando." I said gently. "let's have the story."

He looked at me quizzically for a moment and then smiled upon me that smile of good comradeship I so much loved. "How do you know there is a story."

"Oh, I know; you have related so many. I knew when I looked in your face, when the wedding party was leaving the church." that there was one you had not told me. Does it concern the bride?"
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"Not directly-that is. It was of her father. Oh, Senor, what strange tricks the fates play, and, sometimes, how cruel they are!"

Don Fernando smoked on in silence, as if in deep thought, and then, in his quaint English, resumed his story.

"Senor, the money that bought Senorita Gertrudis Gamboa her fine wedding, that has made the whole family rich-so very rich—came from the old La Luna Plata mine, "The Silver Moon", a poetic name for a mine. But so it is, the moon gives forth her light forever, and, Senior, maybe La Luna Plata will always give up her silver, for there is not a richer mine in all this region. But. poor Dios! what a price to poor Rafael! That, Senior, was her father, Rafael Gamboa. a distant relative of mine.

"Rafael was always digging, digging, from his boyhood, expecting some day to find somewhere up in the mountains a richer mine than any one else had discovered. He had queer notions always. Senor, and he loved to wander off alone. People laughed at him at first, particularly his relatives. But one day be found it! It was an 'outcropping.' as you say in English; and, Senor, he had discovered a vein of the richest silver. Rafael had found his mine at last! Friends aided him with the necessary money and for several years he mined his ore. But after a while things went badly with Rafael, and finally the vein ceased to run good ore, and then the end came. No more ore was in sight.

"But Rafael was not the kind to give up easily. No. Senor, he knew the vein he had followed, and he knew it was inexhaustible. He would find it again. He struggled desperately to win back that which had cost him so much labor and patient waiting. But what could he do? His money was almost gone; he had borrowed until his friends no longer were willing to risk more. At length he had nothing with, which to pay his miners, and it was only with the hope held out to them of a fortunate find at any moment, as he had imploringly urged them to believe, that they consented to remain with him and work on day after day.

"Rafael had been reduced to a mere skeleton—he scarcely ate or slept—and his family, too, were nearing the point of starvation. The storekeepers had refused further credit either for food for his family or for supplies for the mine. They had heard the same old story from day to day —"trust me with one more day's supplies and to-night maybe I will find the vein again, and then" - Fortune was what he meant, but he did not need to finish. They knew; they had heard it so often.

"One night the few miners who had been willing to work on huddled near the entrance of the mine. They scowled at Rafael as he greeted them when he went to work with them on the night 'shift.' The foreman, Antonio, declared they would work no longer without money. Rafael implored them to try once more—one more night—and then if there was no luck—well, then they would all quit. He did not tell them that he, too, would be forced to quit the mine forever, for he had that night induced the last storekeeper in Zacatecas who would listen to his pitiful tale to let him have candles for one more night's work—the last he would ask! Buoyed up by a little flicker of hope, and with his precious candles. In his arms, Rafael appealed to the hearts of his men for the last time, and, as you know, Senor, our peons have tender hearts. These simple fellows had always been treated kindly by Rafael, and in their humble way they loved him and wished him success.

"Well. Senor, the little band descended into the mine with lighter hearts than when they had quit their work the night before, for this was to be the last night. In the black hole where hopeless, disappointing toll had been the only reward for so many weary months. Rafael left them, after distributing the candles, and went to a distant gallery where for days he had been digging alone. Hours passed and no sound came from him, not even the familiar crunch of his pick, that had often cheered them in the lonely watches of the night.

"When midnight came the men sat down; to eat their cold tortillas. But they did; not linger over their meal. Sometimes the very atmosphere made them apprehensive and eager to resume their work. Antonio has often told me how be was trying to interest the men with idle gossip. Just to cheer their hearts, you know, Senor. when suddenly a wail, so faint, so strange, came floating to them through, the darkness. The men looked at each other with frightened eyes, and one of them cried: — 

"A cat, where is the cat?" 

"But Antonio pretended, to he disgusted at the folly or such a suggestion.

"'A cat, indeed! And in the bottom of the mine! Stupid! Next you will say it is the devil singing!"

"At this the men crossed themselves devoutly and Antonio saw that he had made matters worse by his intended joke. Again the strange wild sound came, this time louder and more prolonged. It was indeed like the cry of some animal in distress, but these men knew that no animal had found its way into the mine. Antonio was first to determine what to do.

"Come," he said sternly to the men; "we must go through the gallery and see for ourselves. We must find the poor Senor Rafael! 

"That was enough. They had forgotten their master, but now they were ready to face any terrors for him behind Antonio's broad back. And so they resolutely followed on, huddled together like frightened children. Yon could not blame them, senor, for it would take stouter hearts than theirs to face the dangers of such blackness. Suddenly a gust of wind blew out the flames of the few candles they were carrying, as well as of the torch Antonio held. They stopped, appalled, not venturing to move, for mines are full of pitfalls, as you know, senor, and to their terror was added the plaintive cries of that invisible something. They stood motionless for a time, and, as their eyes became accustomed to the darkness there came to them from afar, down the long dark cavern ahead, the faint gleam of a candle's flame. As one man they started forward toward the welcome light, heedless of possible pitfalls, of the boulders in their path, and heedless of the fact that the voice came from the source of the light. 

"Well, senor, at last they found him - poor Rafael: He was kneeling at the farthest end of the gallery, digging frantically at the wall of the rock with his poor, bleeding hands. His candle, stuck in a crevice of the rock, had almost burned out, but in its rays the ore as it fell with each clutch of Rafael's fingers, where he had loosened it with his pick, sparkled like jewels. Rafael looked up when he heard the sound of their footsteps, but the face they saw was not like the face of the Rafael they had known. It was the face of a maniac; and again that awful cry rose on the still air, chilling the blood in their veins. Yes, it was Rafael, but reason had fled, and this was but the shadow of their Rafael whom they had loved as their master. 

 "He was muttering to himself between his terrible screams and with his bleeding hands was examining feverishly the sparkling lumps of ore. Silver! Yes, great masses of native silver, senor, held together by silver wires. But Rafael was gone? His joy at again finding the precious vein had been too great. His sanity and strength had turned to the edge, sputtered and gone out; and the candle-his last-flickered a moment and died, as Rafael fell forward unconscious amidst this his treasure. 

 "Antonio picked him up in his strong arms and carried him like a child to the mouth of the mine. But not even the sweet night air revived him, and to they look him to his home near by. Only once did the flicker of reason return before he died, and in that moment he gasped, 'Plata, Plata: Viva  la Luna Plata.'

 "Senor, that mine has proved, as you know, so rich that not one of us can tell its worth, and Rafael's family have enjoyed their wealth. Ten years ago his eldest daughter was married from the Cathedral. She was his pet and the most beautiful of them all—Maria Josefa Gamboa, that was her name, senor-and-when she walked from her carriage to the church door, it was on a pavement of silver bricks, senor, solid silver from her father's mine, and placed there for the occasion.  It was her mother's idea, and the last tribute to the poor dead father, to his work and the glory of 'La Luna Plata.'"

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Ada Brown Talbot - "The Mine of the Silver Moon" - NY Evening Telegram 26 March 1910

Heredity Tells in Winning of Story Contest by Mrs. Talbot

Father of the Author of "The Mine of the Silver Moon" Was Himself a Writer. 

Mrs. Ada Brown Talbot, of No. 601 West 136th street, is the winner of the EVENING TELEGRAM'S Prize Story contest this week. Her winning story is entitled "The Mine of the Silver Moon." It was published yesterday. 

When seen by a reporter for the EVENING TELEGRAM, Mrs. Talbot was greatly elated over her success in winning the prize, as it was the first time she had ever tried for a prize in any competition, although she admitted that she bad written several stories for magazines.

Literary ability is a matter of heredity with Mrs. Talbot. Her father, Joseph G. Brown, is well known in the newspaper profession In the West, having been associated with papers in Denver for many years. While doing active newspaper work he collaborated with Eugene Fields and "Bill Nye" in many ot their literary creations. Mr. Brown now devotes his time exclusively to writing for magazines. 

The story which was submitted by Mrs. Talbot is centered around Mexico, where she has lived many years. It is based solely on fact. 

Born in Denver, Mrs. Talbot has seen much of the miner's life and, coupled with the experience she has had in Colorado, is well equipped to picture vividly the sad scenes that she saw in both the American and Mexican mining camps. 

Mrs. Talbot's husband. Mr. E. H. Brown (typo, s/b - Mr. E. H. Talbot), is also a literary man. He has been editor of a number of publications, and has also been the founder of many of them. Mrs. Talbot some years ago established the Club Woman's Magazine. It was while developing this periodical that she overworked herself and was forced to go to Mexico. 

"Let me be quoted as saying one thing.' said Mrs. Talbot. "I want to commend the EVENING TELEGRAM for the opportunity it gives its readers to bring out whatever originality they may have in the literary line. The Short Story Contest has created intense interest in literary circles." 

Women's Who's Who in America - 1914

THE MINE OF THE SILVER MOON

Phila. Inquirer 9 June 1899

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Town House - NE Corner 75th St. and West End Avenue - Architect, Charles T. Mott, Owner, Elisha H. Talbott 1839-1923

SOME TOWN HOUSES. 

On pages 44 and 45 will be found floor  plans and engravings of some townhouses, erected on West End Avenue, New York City, N. Y. The corner house, of which we give plans, was erected for E. H. Talbott, Esq. The design is treated in the Romanesque style. The first story  is built of brownstone with faces left rough as they come from the quarry,with the exception of the door and window openings. The upper stories are built of wash brick, with trimmings of similar stone. Above this, the building is made impressive by a tower and a step pitched roof, covered with Spanish tiles. The cornice and dormer windows are of copper. Within the house, the arrangement is excellent, and the first story contains the first and second drawing-rooms, broad hall and dining-room, which can be thrown together if desired.The most striking feature of the interior is the hall and stair case. This hall is trimmed with oak. The walls are paneled the full height, and are finished with a carved cornice. The ceiling is ribbed, forming panels,which are filled in with rare bits of carving. The broad staircase is built of oak, and it has a massive carved newel with candelabrum of wrought iron and lantern of antique design. The walls and ceiling of vestibule are paneled, and the floor is laid in mosaic.The nook has a paneled divan. The drawing rooms are treated with ivory white and gold in a delicate manner.  The trimmings are carved exquisitely. The fireplace is furnished with white onyx tiles, Mexican onyx facings, and an over mantel aid in mosaic.Dining-room is trimmed with white mahogany. It has a paneled wainscoting ten feet high, and ceiling beams.The fireplace is provided with a tiled hearth, Mexican onyx facings, and a mantel with beveled plate mirror,etc. 

These apartments have parquet floors and are highly polished. The windows on this floor have transoms glazed with delicate tinted glass, shedding a pleasant light over the various apartments. The butler's pantry has a counter shelf of Italian marble with bowl. It also contains an ice box, dresser, china closets, dumb waiter, and a private stairway from basement to fourth story. The second floor contains four chambers and bathroom, and the third floor contains three chambers and bathroom. These apartments are trimmed with sycamore. The fireplaces are fitted up complete.The The bathrooms are wainscoted with Italian marble, and are furnished in the best possible manner with exposed plumbing, all nickel plated.The chambers have large closets.The fourth story contains three servant bed rooms and a billiard room. The basement contains kitchen, pantries, laundry, furnace, and other necessary apartments. Mr. CharlesT. Mott, architect, 137 Broadway, NewYork.

(Scientific American, Building Edition, March 1896, page 35)

(Real Estate Record and Builder's Guide, March 2, 1895, page 335)

Elisha Hollingsworth Talbott - 1839-1923

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    Descendants of Richard and Elizabeth (Ewen) Talbott of Poplar Knowle, West River, Anne Arundel County, Maryland - 1927

Co-founder of Railway Age Magazine and Iron Age among other publications. Organizer of the 1883 National Exposition of Railway Appliances, Opening May 24th, Chicago, Illinois. 

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, 2 June 1883

(Chicago History Magazine, Winter 2010, page 51)

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