RICHARDSON-COV Wall-street, north side, looking west. and wholly omitted on the side of the building, and the value of the relieved piers between the windows, and the recessed windows themselves in supplying shadow to the façade, is entirely neglected. We are especially disappointed with this result, since the architects, as far as our drawing goes, get credit for nothing but the erection of a plain rectangular building, without shadow, without ornament, and quite unworthy, except for its size, of any particular notice. In truth, the building is very large, and very handsome, with tasteful ornaments in stone, subdued to the character of the material which they accompany; and, moreover, very interesting in itself, as the first example of the employment of a material entirely new in this city, and which we hope to see extensively adopted. We were shown, some two years ago, at the same time when we first saw this yellow brick, another specimen of a pale rose color, very delicate and beautiful. We thought at the time that this might be used in connection with the yellow brick, the two tints being diffused in irregular masses over the surface of the building, and producing, what seemed to the mind's eye, a charming combination of hue, and a very desirable relief to the monotony of brown and white which threatens us at the present time. Since that time, however, we have never seen or heard of this rose-colored brick, and suppose that the material was either not warranted to wash, or that the supply failed. If there were no such drawbacks, will some enterprising millionnaire be obliging enough to put up an acre or two of jobbing houses, in the style suggested above, in time for our second article on this subject? The banks of NewYork are becoming every day more important in an architectural point of view. The accompanying cut, representing Wall-street, looking West, groups together eight banks of the ancien régime in their classical costumes after the most approved YankeeGreek mode. Doubtless, in their day, these tough, granite dowagers, bloomed with grace in the eyes of the young men who now look down regretfully upon their beards, gray as the structures they once admired. Yet to our eyes these grim temples, consecrated to Plutus, are matter only for lamentation; and the cold world, incredulous of their former beauty, sees without regret that the eyes of builders, greedy for prey, are upon them. In architecture, as in history, Greece has fallen a victim to Italy, and while millionnaires are busy with their brown-stone and marble palaces, these forsaken specimens of the pseudo-Greek remain with their bulky and ungraceful leg-like columns, out of place, out of proportion, like a crowd of briefly-petticoated ballet dancers, who stand shivering and unregarded after the play and its applauses are over, for their carriages to carry them home. At the corner of Wall-street and Broadway, stands the handsome freestone structure, called the Bank of the Republic, dimly represented in the accompanying cut. It is in an important situation, and one in which an excellent view can be obtained of both sides. The upper story, having, as it does, the appearance of an after thought, and rising above the legitimate cornice of the building, is a very serious defect, and deprives the upper portion of all beauty. Any cornice, however fine or effective, would be utterly lost beneath such an addition, which is an imposition in more senses than one. The bad effect of windows placed in a rounded cornice of a building, is to some extent obviated in this Bank by deeply recessing the windows; but it is a dangerous experiment, and must always be, to a certain extent, bad and ungraceful in its effect. In this case, we suppose, the corner was rounded to save space in the street, but we ought to have done with such arrangements; they are illiberal and petty, and unworthy of our city, but unfortunately we have to remember too many of them. The doorways in this structure are too heavy, and the one on the corner, owing partly to its position, and partly to its size, is a positive deformity. Further down Wall-street is the new Insurance Building, an elegant structure of brown freestone, with the basement and angles richly rusticated. We detest this vermiculated rustic work, seeing no beauty nor meaning in it; but this sample is good of its kind, and created an era in the history of architecture in the city. The string course, which runs below the fourth story, is neat and elegant, but out of place; it belongs more properly below the third story, since, in its present place, it gives too much weight to the upper portion of the building. It is due to this really handsome structure, to say that the artist has done no sort of justice to it, and to make what may be called a concentrated apology, it may be generally stated that, with one or two exceptions, artists and engravers have been too much hurried with Mercantile Bank the preparations for this number's illustrations to do themselves or the subjects credit; a fact which we regret as much for their sakes as ours. We hope to have no occasion for apologies hereafter. The new Bank corner of John-street and Broadway, of which the above engraving is a very indifferent view, is less deficient in shadow than most of its contemporaries. The window-hoods on Broadway are bold and handsome, and the side on John-street is worthy of a broader thoroughfare than the one it faces. Its windows are very handsome and effective, but was it worth while,-oh doubtless most worthy occupants! to put up so fine a building, and then deface it with a fantastic display of signs of all shapes and sizes, rendering it almost impossible to form any idea of the architecture? The building of which a view is given on p. 135, is not yet completed. Its architectural front is on Park Place, but its entrance is in the narrow end on Broadway.* We regret for many reasons that the cut should be so far an inadequate representation of a building, which occupies an important position among the new structures of the day, and moreover is so conspicuously placed, particularly as the detail, which is entirely slurred over in the drawing, is very good and in many points of view quite worthy of notice. The Broadway Bank, which is the name of this new candidate for our admiration, is built of brown freestone, with highly decorated windows and entrance porch, rusticated basement and chamfered rustic quoins at the angles. The cornice is massive and handsome, and its length on Park Place front is relieved by a circular pediment crowning a projection in the centre of the façade. It is however as melancholy as it is absurd to see so fine a building, and one evidently erected at great expense, attempting to deceive the spectator with an elaborate cornice and pediment made of wood, painted and sanded in imitation of stone, a stratagem which, if it is discreditable in smaller buildings or temporary structures, is miserably mean and petty in an erection like the one under consideration, which owing to its size and position is the most important Bank yet put up in New-York. We have no sympathy with the architect who will suggest, or the capitalist who will adopt, such a wretched expedient. We close our present paper with the Merchants' Exchange, a huge pile of gra *The mutations of this rather prominent corner are noteworthy, as exemplifying New-York progress. In the boyish days of a revered author, still hale and hearty, this spot, and the Park opposite, were open fields, where Geoffrey Crayon saw balloon ascensions, and battled with his scho Imates; and much younger men remember petty grocery shops and stable-yards in the same vicinity. In 1853, the geographical centre of fashion has not only passed this point, but now stretches about two miles further up town! Halleck, in his "Fanny," refers to a later occupant of this corner, when he says, "In architecture our unrivalled skill, Cullen's magnesia shop has loudly spoken To an admiring world." Later still, the dwelling house of the late Philip IIone worthily adorned this spot. This was ruthlessly displaced by a very substantial and well-built structure of brick and granite: which, after being permitted a brief existence of only five or six years, was, in turn, not destroyed, but removed, in 1852. to give place to the present structure. The materials of the old (?) building were sold; they were taken away, brick by brick, and stone by stone, and the building was reproduced in another street, just as it had looked in Broadway. nite, admirably built and handsome in its design. Its centre is occupied by a large circular hall, whose multitudinous echoes laugh the science of acoustics to scorn, and make whispers impossible. This central hall, which runs up to the top of the building and is crowned by a dome, is surrounded by offices which, in point of cheerfulness, eclipse any thing which Egyptian catacombs have yet been able to offer us. We enter them whenever we have occasion, with a gloomy apprehension that our friends will be found in a mournful state of mummy, and the disappointment is too contrary to what seems natural, to be as pleasing as it ought. The building is enormous, and built with a praiseworthy solidity, which will defy the ravages of time; yet solid as it is, and ridiculously extravagant as was its cost, there is probably no building in the world so absurdly inconvenient. The great pyramid of Gizeh is almost as well lighted; and, owing to its immense size, which enables it to maintain a uniform temperature, it is better suited to the uses of daily life. The Exchange was built by the merchants of New-York; and cost one million eight hundred thousand dollars; the original stockholders lost every penny of their investment, and it was recently sold for a sum hardly sufficient to pay the mortgage held by the Barings in London. The new Royal Exchange, in London, cost £112,000, and is every way superior to our New-York building, in architectural beauty, convenience, and comfort. The best front of our Exchange is on Wall-street; yet, even in the offices on this side, gaslights are required almost constantly, and there is no room in the building which is decently lighted. The basement story, compared to which the Catacombs of Paris are gay, has no means by which it can be warmed; being without fire-places, furnace-registers, or access to chimneyflues. We have spoken of the great Rotunda; a hall, eighty feet in diameter, paved with marble, and whose walls are decorated with columns and pilasters, of finely polished white marble, having plaster capitals -the marble ones which were carved for this hall in Italy, being found too small, were replaced by those which at present disgrace the building. Altogether, whether we look at the unimposing character of the structure itself, the immense amount of money actually thrown away, the absurd arrangements of the interior, and the utter want of design, resulting from an |