With the passing of the old Potter’s Field, came many changes.  Mayor Stephen Allen (later lost on the Henry Clay), made signal civic improvements; he levelled, drained and added three and a half acres to the field.  In short, it became a valuable tract of ground.  Society, driven steadily upward from Bowling Green, Bond Street, Bleecker and the rest, had commenced to settle down in the country.  What had yesterday been rural districts were suburbs today.

In 1806 there were as many as fifteen families in this neighbourhood rich and great enough to have carriages.  Colonel Turnbull had an “out of town” house at, approximately, Eighth and Macdougal streets,—­a charming cottage, with twenty acres of garden land which today are worth millions.  Growing tired of living in the country, he offered to sell his place to his friend, Nehemiah Rogers; but the latter decided against it.

“It is too far out of town!” he declared.

“But you have a carriage!” exclaimed the Colonel.  “You can drive in to the city whenever you want to!”

The distance was too great, however, and Mr. Rogers did not buy.

By 1826, however, the tide had carried many persons of wealth out to this neighbourhood, and there were more and more carriages to be seen with each succeeding month.  All at once, high iron railings were built about the deserted Potter’s Field,—­a Potter’s Field no longer,—­and on June 27th of that year a proclamation was issued: 

“The corporation of the city of New York have been pleased to set apart a piece of ground for a military parade on Fourth Street near Macdougal Street, and have directed it to be called ‘Washington Military Parade Ground.’  For the purpose of honouring its first occupation as a military parade, Colonel Arcularis will order a detachment from his regiment with field pieces to parade on the ground on the morning of the Fourth of July next.  He shall fire a national salute and proclaim the name of the parade ground, with such ceremonies as he shall see fit.”

This occasion, an anniversary of American independence, seems to have been a most gorgeous affair, with the Governor, Mayor and other officials present, and a monumental feast to wind up with.  The menu included, among other dainties, two oxen roasted whole, two hundred hams ("with a carver at each"), and so many barrels of beer that the chronicler seems not to have had the courage to record the precise number!

1827 seems to have seen a real growth of social life around the Washington Parade Ground.  The New York Gazette of June 7th advertised “three-story dwellings in Fourth Street, between Thompson and Macdougal streets, for sale.  The front and rear of the whole range is to be finished in the same style as the front of the Bowery Theatre, and each to have a grass plot in front with iron railings.”

This promise of theatrical architecture seems a curious inducement, but it must have been effective, for many exclusive families came—­no, flocked,—­to live in the houses!