SPRINGFIELD.

Valley of the Connecticut.—Location of Springfield.—The United States Armory.—Springfield Library.—Origin of the Present Library System.—The Wayland Celebration.—Settlement of Springfield.—Indian Hostilities.—Days of Witchcraft.—Trial of Hugh Parsons.—Hope Daggett.—Springfield "Republican."

A journey up the Valley of the Connecticut at this season of the year is a positive luxury to the tourist or professional traveler. It is a broad, beautiful road, winding through hill and dale, with grand old forests and mountains in the background, their foliage tipped with variegated colors by the fingers of Autumn, as an artist would put a finishing touch to his landscape.

A ride of twenty-five miles northward from Hartford brought us to Springfield, the most enterprising and important town in Western Massachusetts. The United States Armory, located here, gives to the city a national consequence. No city in the Union did more to crush out the Rebellion than Springfield, through her Armory. Two or three thousand men were kept constantly employed here during the war, turning out the various arms used in the Federal service. The force now employed is considerably less than in war times. All hands are engaged just now upon the Springfield rifled musket, which has recently been adopted by the Government. The military precision with which every detail is attended to is the admiration of all who are shown through the Armory.

A visit to the City Library, on State street, cannot fail to interest every person who feels a pride in the public institutions of New England. A fine, large, brick and stone building, with plain exterior and artistically finished interior, is the Springfield Public Library. Over forty thousand volumes cover its shelves, and are so systematically arranged that the librarian or his assistants can produce at once any work named in the catalogue. The oblong reading room is furnished with black walnut tables; and winding staircases, painted in blue and gold, lead from the columned alcoves to the galleries above.

The library owns some very old and valuable books of engravings. A room on the first floor is devoted to stuffed birds, geological specimens, preserved snakes, and a wonderful assortment of curious relics obtained from all parts of the world. Icelandic snow shoes and Hindoo gods occupy places on the same shelf, in peaceful proximity, and catamounts, paralyzed in the act of springing, glare at you harmlessly behind their glass cases. Patriotic mementoes are not wanting, as the bullet-riddled battle-flags of Massachusetts regiments will testify.

The free public library system is distinctively a New England institution, and wields a mighty influence for good. It was originated in 1847, by Rev. Francis Wayland, President of Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island. On Commencement day of that year Mr. Wayland expressed a wish to help the inhabitants of the town of Wayland, Massachusetts, to a public library, and tendered a donation of five hundred dollars to the town for that purpose, upon the condition that another five hundred should be added by the town. The required fund was quickly raised, by subscription,and President Wayland immediately placed his donation in the hands of one of their prominent citizens, Judge Mellen. This was the beginning of the movement which resulted in the "Library Act," of May, 1851, in the State of Massachusetts.

The people of Wayland bought their library and provided a room in the "Town House" for its safe keeping. A librarian was chosen, whose salary was paid by the town, and the institution made its first delivery of books August seventh, 1850. Rev. John B. Wright was a member of the Massachusetts Legislature, from Wayland, during the session of 1851, and through his agency the Act "to authorize cities and towns to establish and maintain public libraries" was passed. A "Library Celebration" took place in Wayland, August twenty-sixth, 1851, and was a most interesting affair. Thus it came to pass that through the practical working of this man's idea public libraries were established, not only all over the State of Massachusetts, but throughout New England.

Springfield was founded in 1636 by William Pyncheon, who with seven other men settled here, with their families, on May fourteenth of that year. They were bound together by mutual contract, with the design of having their colony consist of forty families. There was an especial provision that the number should never exceed fifty.

The early prosperity of Springfield was considerably retarded by Indian hostilities.

In October, 1675, the brown warriors of King Phillip made a descent upon the place, burning twenty-nine houses and killing three citizens—one of them a woman. The timely arrival of Major Pyncheon, Major Treat and Captain Appleton, with their troops, preventedfurther destruction and repulsed the attack of the Indians. Springfield was also the scene of operations during the troubles of 1786-87. At that time, General Shepperd was posted here, for the defence of the Armory.

Thus, through much tribulation, has the thriving town attained its present prosperity.

In its infant days, Springfield cherished a strong belief in witchcraft, as the following incident will testify: In the same year that Hartford set such a bad example to her northern neighbor on the Connecticut, by hanging Mrs. Greensmith, Springfield, not to be outdone, preferred a charge of witchcraft against one Hugh Parsons—a very handsome and pleasing young man, it seems, with whom all the women fell in love. Of course, this was not to be tolerated by the male population of the place, who hated him, as a natural consequence; and, accordingly, the handsomest man in Springfield was indicted and tried, on the grave accusation of being in league with the powers of evil. It is not surprising that the jury found him guilty. But, through some influence not explained, the judge, Mr. Pyncheon, stayed proceedings in his behalf until the matter could be laid before the General Court, in Boston. There the decision of the Springfield jury was reversed, and Mr. Parsons set at liberty. Whether after this his dangerous attractions were duly husbanded, or whether he went on, as of old, winning such wholesale admiration, we are not informed.

One of the sensations of the hour during my sojourn in Springfield, was an encounter between the State Street Baptist Church and Hope Daggett, one of its members. The disaffected sister had at sundry times and in divers manners made herself so obnoxious to the congregation,by her strong-minded peculiarities, that an officer was called upon the scene and requested to eject by force, if necessary, the eccentric and uncompromising Hope. Officer Maxwell, suiting the action to the word, seized the unruly sister, and without stopping to consider the sudden fame which this act would launch upon him, thrust her into the street, amid the cheers and taunts of friends and enemies. Now it was the peculiar misfortune of Miss Daggett to have a wooden leg, and on the day following this tragic affair the press of Springfield was devoted to various accounts of the engagement, in which Maxwell and the wooden leg figured alternately.

I cannot leave Springfield without some mention of its leading paper, the SpringfieldRepublican, which for many years has been one of the solid papers of the Bay State, and a representative organ in politics and literature. Its editor, Samuel Bowles, is an energetic business manager and a stirring politician, who has fought his way up from obscurity to a position in the front rank of American journalism.

Approach to St. Louis.—Bridge Over the Mississippi.—View of the City.—Material Resources of Missouri.—Early History of St. Louis.—Increase of Population.—Manufacturing and Commercial Interests.—Locality.—Description of St. Louis in 1842.—Resemblance to Philadelphia.—Public Buildings.—Streets.—Parks.—Fair Week.—Educational and Charitable Institutions.—Hotels.—Mississippi River.—St. Louis During the Rebellion.—Peculiar Characteristics.—The Future of the City.

THE LEVEE AND GREAT BRIDGE AT ST. LOUIS.THE LEVEE AND GREAT BRIDGE AT ST. LOUIS.

The visitor to St. Louis, if from the east, will probably make his approach over the great bridge which spans the Mississippi. This bridge, designed by Captain Eads, and begun in 1867, was completed in 1874, and is one of the greatest triumphs of American engineering. It consists of three spans, resting on four piers. The central span is 520 feet in width, and the side ones 500 feet each. They have a rise of sixty feet, sufficient to permit the passage of steamers under them, even at high water. The piers are sunk through the sand to the bed-rock, a distance of from ninety to one hundred and twenty feet, the work having been accomplished by means of iron wrought caissons and atmospheric pressure. Each span consists of four ribbed arches, made of cast steel. The bridge is two stories high, the lower story containing a double car track, and the upper one two horse-car tracks, two carriageways and two foot-ways. Reaching the St. Louis shore, the car and road ways pass over a viaduct of five arches, of twenty-seven feet span each, to Washingtonavenue, where the railway tracks run into a tunnel 4,800 feet long, terminating near Eleventh street. Bridge and tunnel together cost eleven millions of dollars.

This wonderful structure, which has few if any equals upon the continent, will impress the traveler with the commercial magnitude and enterprise of the great western city to which it forms the eastern portal. Looking from the car window he will see, first, the Mississippi, which, if at the period of low water, disappoints him with its apparent insignificance; but which, if it be at the time of its annual flood, has crept, on the St. Louis side, nearly to the top of the steep levee, and has filled up the broad valley miles away on the hither side, a rushing, turbulent river, turbid with the yellow waters of the Missouri, which, emptying into it twenty miles above, have scarcely, at this point, perfectly mingled with the clearer Mississippi. He will see next the river front of St. Louis—a continuous line of steamboats, towboats and barges, without a sail or mast among them; the levee rising in a steep acclivity twenty feet above the river's edge; and multitudinous mules, with their colored drivers, toiling laboriously, and by the aid of much whipping and swearing, up or down the steep bank, carrying the merchandise which has just been landed, or is destined to be loaded in some vessel's hold. Beyond the river rises the city, terrace above terrace, its outlines bristling with spires, and prominent above all, the dome of the Court House.

St. Louis is situated in the very heart of the great Mississippi Valley, and a large share of its rich agricultural products and mineral stores are constantly poured into her lap. Pilot Knob and Iron Mountain, bothcontaining inexhaustible supplies of the useful ore, are not far distant. The lead districts of Missouri include more than 6,000 square miles. In fifteen counties there is copper. In short, within one hundred miles of St. Louis, gold, iron, lead, zinc, copper, tin, silver, platina, nickel, emery, cobalt, coal, limestone, granite, pipe-clay, fire-clay, marble, metallic paints and salt are found, in quantities which will repay working. In the State there are twenty millions acres of good farming lands; five millions of acres are among the best in the world for grapes; and eight millions are particularly suited to the raising of hemp. There is, besides, a sufficiency of timber land. With all these resources from which to draw, it would be surprising if St. Louis did not become a leading city in the West. Situated, as she is, on the Mississippi River, about midway between its source and its mouth, the junction of the Missouri twenty miles above, and that of the Ohio about one hundred and seventy-five miles below, and being the river terminus of a complicated system of western railways, the towns and cities, and even the small hamlets of the north, south and west, and to a limited extent of the east also, all pay her tribute. As Chicago is the gateway to the East, by means of the great chain of lakes and rivers at whose head she sits, so St. Louis holds open the door to the South and the East as well, through the Mississippi and the Ohio rivers.

In many respects the business rival of Chicago to-day, it has a history reaching half a century further back. While Chicago was still a howling wilderness, its only inhabitants the warlike Pottawatomies, who sometimes encamped upon the shores of its lake and river, St. Louis had a local habitation and a name. On Februaryfifteenth, 1764, Pierre Laclede Siguest, an enterprising Frenchman, established at this point a depot for the furs of the vast region watered by the Mississippi and Missouri, and gave it the name of St. Louis. This was done by permission of the Governor General of Louisiana, which was then a French province. In the course of the year cabins were built, a little corn planted and the Indians placated. The Frenchmen seemed to have gotten along with the Indians tolerably well in those days. They had no hesitation in marrying squaws, even though they already possessed one lawful wife; they were good tempered and merry, and attempted no conversion of the Indians with a Bible in one hand and a sword in the other. So the two races got along nicely together.

The peace of 1763 gave the country east of the Mississippi to the English, and the Frenchmen who had settled upon the Illinois made haste to remove to St. Louis, to avoid living under the rule of their "natural enemy." This was scarcely accomplished when the more terrible news reached them that Louis XV had ceded his possessions west of the Mississippi to Spain. For the next thirty years the town was a Spanish outpost of Louisiana, in which province no one not a Catholic could own land.

To go to New Orleans and return was a voyage of ten months; but in that early day, and under such surprising difficulties, St. Louis began its commercial career. It exported furs, lead and salt, and imported the few necessaries required by the settlers, and beads, tomahawks, and other articles demanded by the Indians in exchange for furs. In 1799 the inhabitants numbered 925, a falling off of 272 from the previous year.In 1804, St. Louis passed to the United States, together with the whole country west of the Mississippi. In 1811 the population had increased to 1400, and there were two schools in the town, one French and one English. In 1812 the portion of the territory lying north of the thirty-fifth degree of latitude was organized as Missouri Territory. In 1813 the first brick house was erected in St. Louis. In 1820 its population was 4,928. In 1822 it was incorporated as a city.

After the cession of Louisiana to the United States, the law forbidding Protestant worship, and requiring owners of land to profess the Catholic faith, was repealed, and men American born but of English descent began to pour into the town. In 1808 a newspaper was established, and in 1811 many of the old French names of the streets were changed to English ones. In 1812 the lead mines began to be worked to better advantage, on a larger scale, and agriculture assumed increasing importance. In 1815 the first steamboat made its appearance.

In 1820 St. Louis cast its vote for slavery, and settled the question for Missouri. The population then was 4,928, which in 1830 had increased to 5,852; 924 additional inhabitants in ten years! From 1830 to 1860 its population trebled every ten years, the census returns of the latter year giving it 160,773. In 1870 it had nearly doubled again, the number being 310,864 inhabitants. According to the United States Census report of 1880, the population was 350,522, which made St. Louis the sixth city in the Union. Since that time it has been rapidly on the increase.

St. Louis is among the first of our cities in the manufacture of flour, and is a rival of Cincinnati in the pork-packing business. It has extensive lumber mills,linseed-oil factories, provision-packing houses, manufactures large quantities of hemp, whisky and tobacco, has vast iron factories and machine shops, breweries, lead and paint works. In brief, it takes a rank second only to New York and Philadelphia in its manufactures, to which its prosperity is largely due. In 1874 the products of that year were valued at nearly $240,000,000, while it furnished employment to about 50,000 workmen. Great as are Chicago's manufacturing interests, St. Louis excels her in this respect, while she rivals the former city in her commercial interests. The natural commercial entreport of the Mississippi Valley, the commerce of St. Louis is immense. It receives and exports to the north, east and south, breadstuffs, live stock, provisions, cotton, lead, hay, salt, wool, hides and pelts, lumber and tobacco.

St. Louis is perched high above the river, so that she is beyond the reach of all save the highest floods of that most capricious stream. She is built on three terraces, the first twenty, the second one hundred and fifty, and the third two hundred feet above low-water mark. The second terrace begins at Twenty-fifth street, and the third at Côte Brillante, four miles west of the river. The surface here spreads out into a broad, beautiful plain. The highest hill in the neighborhood of the city was the lofty mound on the bank of the river, a relic of prehistoric times, and from which St. Louis derived its name of the "Mound City." Greatly to the regret of antiquarians a supposed necessity existed for the removal of this mound, and now no trace of it is left.

In 1842 Charles Dickens published hisAmerican Notes, in which is found the following description of St. Louis:

"In the old French portion of the town the thoroughfares are narrow and crooked, and some of the houses are very quaint and picturesque, being built of wood, with tumble-down galleries before the windows, approachable by stairs, or rather ladders, from the street. There are queer little barber shops and drinking houses, too, in this quarter; and abundance of crazy old tenements, with blinking casements, such as may be seen in Flanders. Some of these ancient habitations, with high garret gable windows perking into the roofs, have a kind of French spring about them; and, being lopsided with age, appear to hold their heads askew, besides, as if they were grimacing in astonishment at the American improvements."

There is nothing of this now seen in St. Louis, except in the narrower streets along the river, which remain a lasting relic of the ancient city. Yankee enterprise has obliterated, in the appearance of the city at least, all trace of its French and Spanish origin. The work of renovation must have commenced soon after Dickens' visit, for Lady Emeline Wortley, visiting St. Louis in 1849, describes it as follows:—

"Merrily were huge houses going up in all directions. From our hotel windows we had a long view of gigantic and gigantically-growing-up dwellings, that seemed every morning to be about a story higher than we left them on the preceding night; as if they had slept, during the night, on guano, like the small boy in the American tale, who reposed on a field covered by it, and whose father, on seeking him the following day, found a gawky gentleman of eight feet high, bearing a strong resemblance to a Patagonian walking stick."

If Chicago is a western reproduction of New York,with its characteristic alertness preternaturally developed, St. Louis takes Philadelphia for her prototype. The merchants and statesmen plodding wearily across the continent during the latter part of the last century and early in this, found Philadelphia the chief city of the country, and went home with their minds filled with the distinguishing features of that city. These they reproduced, as far as was practicable, in their own young and growing town. They laid it out with regularity, the streets near the river, which describes a slight curve, running parallel to it. Further back, they describe straight lines, while the streets running from east to west are, for the most part, at right angles with those they cross. Imitating Philadelphia, the streets are named numerically from the river. Those crossing them have arbitrary names given them, while many Philadelphia nomenclatures, such as Market, Chestnut, Pine, Spruce, Poplar, Walnut and Vine, are repeated. The houses are also numbered in Philadelphia fashion, the streets parallel with the river being numbered north and south from Market street, and those running east and west taking their numbers from the river. In numbering, each street passes on to a new hundred; thus No. 318 is the ninth house above Third street on one side of the way.

Not only in these superficial matters is Philadelphia imitated, but the resemblance is preserved in more substantial particulars. Many of the buildings are large, old-fashioned, square mansions, built of brick with white marble trimmings. There is less attempt at architectural display than in Chicago, apparently the main thought of the builders being to obtain substantiality. Yet there are many handsome buildings, both public and private.One of the finest structures of its kind in the United States is the Court House, occupying the square bounded by Fourth, Fifth, Chestnut and Market streets. It is in the form of a Greek cross, of Grecian architecture, built of Genevieve limestone, and is surmounted by a lofty iron dome, from the cupola of which it is possible to obtain an extensive view of the city and its surroundings. The building cost $1,200,000. The fronts are adorned with beautiful porticoes. The Four Courts, in Clark avenue, between Eleventh and Twelfth streets, is a handsome and spacious building, constructed of limestone, at a cost of $1,000,000. A semi-circular iron jail is in its rear, so constructed that all its cells are under the observation of a single watchman. A Custom House and Post Office has recently been erected, at the corner of Olive and Eighth streets. It is of Maine granite, with rose-colored granite trimmings, three stories in height, with a French roof and Louvre dome, and occupies an entire square. The cost of the structure was $5,000,000.

The Chamber of Commerce is the great commercial mart of the city, the heart of enormous business interests, whose arteries sometimes pulsate with feverish heat, and whose transactions affect business affairs to the furthest extent of the country. The edifice is the handsomest of its kind in America. It is five stories high, wholly built of gray limestone, and cost $800,000. The main hall of the Exchange is two hundred feet long, one hundred wide, and seventy high. In the gallery surrounding it strangers can at any time witness the proceedings on the floor, and watch how fortunes are made and unmade.

The most imposing and ornate building of the city,architecturally speaking, is the Columbia Life Insurance building, which is of rose-colored granite, in the Renaissance style, four stories high, with a massive stone cornice representing mythological figures. The roof is reached by an elevator, and affords a fine view.

The city abounds in handsome churches. Most prominent among them all is Christ Church (Episcopal) at the corner of Thirteenth and Locust streets. It is in the cathedral gothic style, with stained-glass windows and lofty nave. The Catholic Cathedral, on Walnut street, between Second and Third streets, is an imposing structure with a front of polished freestone faced by a Doric portico. The Church of the Messiah (Unitarian), at the corner of Olive and Ninth streets, is a handsome gothic structure. The Jewish Temple, at the corner of Seventeenth and Pine streets, is one of the finest religious edifices in the city. There are many others which will challenge the visitor's attention and admiration as he passes through the streets of the city.

The wholesale business of St. Louis is confined to Front, Second, Third and Main streets. Front street is one hundred feet wide, and extends along the levee, being lined with massive stores and warehouses. Fourth street contains the leading retail stores, and on every pleasant day it is filled with handsome equipages, while on its sidewalks are found the fashion and beauty of the city. Washington avenue is one of the widest and most elegant avenues in St. Louis, and west of Twenty-seventh street contains many beautiful residences. Pine, Olive and Locust streets, Chouteau avenue and Lucas Place, are also famed for their fine residences. Lindell or Grant avenue, running north and south, on the western boundary of the city, and slightly bending towardthe river, is its longest street, being twelve miles in length.

SHAW'S GARDEN AT ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI.SHAW'S GARDEN AT ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI.

The corporate limits of St. Louis extend eleven miles along the river, and about three miles inland. The densely built portion of the city is about six miles in length by two in width. Its public parks are one of its striking features. They embrace an aggregate of about 2,000 acres. The most beautiful is Lafayette Park, lying between Park and Lafayette, Mississippi and Missouri avenues. In it are a bronze statue of Thomas H. Benton, by Harriet Hosmer, and a bronze statue of Washington. It is for pedestrians only, is elaborately laid out and ornamented, and is surrounded by magnificent residences. Missouri Park is a pretty little park at the foot of Lucas Place, containing a handsome fountain. St. Louis Place, Hyde Park and Washington Square are all attractive places of resort. Northern Park, on the bluffs to the north of the city, is noted for its fine trees, and contains 180 acres. Forest Park is the great park of the city. It lies four miles west of the Court House, and contains 1350 acres. The Des Pares runs through it, and the native forest trees are still standing. With great natural advantages, it requires only time and art to number it among the handsomest parks in the country. Tower Grove Park, in the southwest part of the city, contains 227 acres, offers delightful drives among green lawns and charmingly arranged shrubbery.

Adjoining this park is Shaw's Garden, which contains 109 acres. It possesses a peculiar interest, from the manner in which it is arranged. It is divided into three sections, the first being the Herbaceous and Flower Garden, embracing ten acres, and including every flower which can be grown in the latitude of St. Louis, besidesseveral greenhouses containing thousands of exotic and tropical plants. The second section, called the Fruticetum, comprises six acres devoted to fruit of all kinds. The Arboretum, or third section, includes twenty-five acres, and contains all kinds of ornamental and fruit trees. The Labyrinth is an intricate, hedge-bordered pathway, leading to a summer-house in the centre. There are also a museum and botanical library. This garden is entirely the result of private taste and enterprise, having been planned and executed by Henry Shaw, who has thrown it open to the public, and intends it as a gift to the city.

Bellefontaine Cemetery is the most beautiful in the West. It is situated in the northern part of the city, about four and one-half miles from the Court House, and embraces 350 acres. It contains a number of fine monuments, while the trees and shrubbery are most tastefully arranged. Calvary Cemetery, north and not far distant, is nearly as large and quite as beautiful. Here, in these quiet cities of the dead, far from the bustle of the great town, the men and women of this western metropolis, whose lives were passed in turmoil and activity, find at last that rest which must come to all.

The people of St. Louis are supplied with water from the river, the waterworks being situated at Bissell's Point, three and one-half miles north of the court house. Two pumping engines, each with a daily capacity of 17,000,000 gallons, furnish an ample supply for all the needs of the great city.

Fair week, which is usually the first week in October, is the great holiday and gala season of St. Louis. The writer of this article was once so fortunate as to visit the city early in this week. Every train of cars on themany lines which centre at St. Louis, and every steamboat which came from up or down the river, brought its living freight of men and women, who were out for a week's holiday, and, it may have been, paying their annual visit to the greatest city west of the Mississippi. The country roads leading to town were black with vehicles of all descriptions, and laden with men and merchandise. The laborers and mules upon the levee were busier than ever, receiving and transporting the articles to be exhibited and sold. Every hotel was crowded, and the surplus overflowed into boarding and lodging houses, so that their keepers undoubtedly reaped a golden harvest for that one week, at least. The streets were thronged with an immense and motley multitude: business men, on the alert to extend their trade and add to their gains; working women, who found an opportunity for a brief holiday; ladies of fashion who viewed the scene resting at their ease in their carriages; farmers from the rural districts, looking uncomfortable yet complaisant in their Sunday suits, and trying to take in all there was to see and understand; their wives, old-fashioned and countrified in their dress, and with a tired look upon their faces, which this week given up to idleness and sight-seeing could not quite dispel; sporting men, easily recognizable by their flashy dress and "horsey" talk; gamblers and blacklegs by the score, whose appearance and manners were too excessively gentlemanly to pass as quite genuine, and whose gains during the week were probably larger and more certain than those of any other class; western men, with their patois, borrowed apparently from the slang of every nation on the globe; Southerners, with their long hair, slouched hats and broad accent; river hands, whose mostnoticeable accomplishments seemed to be disposing of tobacco and inventing new oaths; negroes, whose facile natures entered heartily into the occasion, and on whose sleek, shining countenances the spirit of contentment was plainly visible; eastern men, with the Yankee intonation; Germans, in great numbers, patronizingly endorsing their adopted country, and selling lager beer with stolid content; Irishmen, whose preference was whisky, and who were ever ready for fun or a fight; beggars, plying their vocation with an extra whine, adopted to conceal an unwonted tendency to cheerfulness; magnates, who looked pompous and conscious of their own importance, but who were jostled and pushed with the democratic disregard for rank and station which characterizes an American crowd.

Probably in no city in the Union would one find quite so cosmopolitan a multitude, representing all sections and all nationalities so impartially. In the business and populous centre of our country, here came all classes and peoples who had been born under, or had sought the protection of, our flag, to worship one week at the shrines of Ceres and Pomona.

The fair grounds of the St. Louis Agricultural and Mechanical Association are three miles northwest of the Court House, and embrace eighty-five acres handsomely laid out and containing extensive buildings. The Amphitheatre will seat 40,000 persons. The street cars leading to these grounds were at all times filled with people, and in addition there was a constant procession of carriages, wagons and carts, going and returning. Within the enclosure the dense throng surged and swayed like a human whirlpool. The displays in the agricultural and mechanical departments were something astonishing;for where in the world is there such grain grown and in such quantities, as in the Mississippi and Missouri valleys? Where are there such fat oxen, such sleek, self-satisfied cows, with such capacity for rich milk? Horses, hogs and sheep were all of the best, and indicated that the West is very far advanced in scientific stock raising. The farm implements displayed all sorts of contrivances for lightening and hastening the farmer's toil. It needed but a glance to show that farming in this region was no single-man, one-horse affair.

In art the East as yet excels the West; for in the scramble after material gain the artistic nature has not been greatly cultivated, and its expressions are, for the most part, crude. But they give promise of future excellence. St. Louis has no picture gallery worthy the name, but excells in scientific and educational institutions.

The Mercantile Library, at the corner of Fifth and Locust streets, contains 50,000 volumes, and its hall is decorated by paintings, coins and statuary, among which latter may be mentioned Miss Hosmer's life-size statue of Beatrice Cenci and Œnone; a bronze copy of the Venus de Medici, a sculptured slab from the ruins of Nineveh, and marble busts of Thomas H. Benton and Robert Burns. The library with its reading room is free to strangers.

Besides the library there is a public school library of 38,000 volumes; an Academy of Science, founded in 1856, with a large museum and a library of 3,000 volumes; and a Historical Society, founded in 1865, with a valuable historical collection. Washington University, organized in 1853, embraces the whole range of university studies except theology. With it is connected the Mary Institute, for the education of women, the Polytechnic School, and the Law School. The public school system of St. Louis is one of the best in the country, and its school-houses are commendably fine. The Roman Catholic College of the Christian Brothers has about four hundred students, and a library of 10,000 volumes. Concordia College (German Lutheran), established in 1839, has a library of 4,500 volumes. Besides the numerous public schools, the Roman Catholics, who embrace a majority of the inhabitants, have about one hundred parochial, private and conventual schools. They have also a number of convents, charitable homes, asylums and hospitals.

The hotels, chief amongst which are the new Southern Hotel, Lindell House, Planters' Hotel, Laclede Hotel and Barnum's Hotel, will compare favorably, in point of attendance, comfort and elegance, with any in the country. Horse cars traverse the city in every direction, rendering all points easily accessible, and carriages are in waiting at the depots and steamboat landings. Ferries ply continually to East St. Louis, on the Illinois shore, from the foot of Carr street, north of the bridge, and from the foot of Spruce street, south of it, the two points of departure being about a mile apart.

So long as the Mississippi River washes the levee in front of the city, the citizens of St. Louis are in little danger of long remaining dull, for want of excitement. That river, one of the uneasiest of water courses, constantly furnishes fresh themes of interest, and even of anxiety. It has a singular penchant for a frequent change of channels, and occasionally threatens to desert to Illinois and leave St. Louis an inland town, with its high levee a sort of rampart to receive the mocking assaults of Chicago. Then, every spring, there is theannual freshet, which, once in ten or fifteen years, creeps up over the top of the levee, and finds its way into cellars and first floors of stores and warehouses. Occasionally there is a severe winter, when ice is formed upon the river as far south even as St. Louis; and when it breaks up in the spring, mischief is sure to ensue. A hundred steamboats are in winter quarters along the levee, their noses in the sand, and their hulls extending riverward, fixed in the ice. At last the great mass of congealed water, extending up the river hundreds of miles, begins to move down stream. The motion is at first scarcely perceptible; but, suddenly, the ice cracks and breaks, and fragments begin to glide swiftly with the current of the river. The various masses create conflicting currents, and, presently, the surface of the stream is like a whirlpool. Some boats are crushed like egg shells between the floes; cables snap, and others are drawn out into the midst of the whirling waters and are fortunate indeed if they are not overwhelmed or forced upon the ice. Meantime, consternation reigns upon the levee. The multitudes are powerless to prevent, yet make frantic and futile efforts while they watch, the disaster. At the breaking up of the ice in 1866, seventeen steamboats were crushed and sunk in a few minutes. Then there are other river disasters; steamboats burned; others struck on snags and sunk; and now and then a boiler explosion makes up the tale of horrors and prevents the Mississippi from ever becoming monotonous or uninteresting.

St. Louis was most unfavorably affected by the war, and made to expiate her political sin of 1820. On the border land between the North and the South, the conflict was carried on in her very midst. Sectional strifewas most bitter and keen. There was no neutrality, and there could be none. All were either for or against; families were divided in deadly strife; and while the city suffered to a terrible degree from this condition of affairs, in back counties whole sections were depopulated. The population being largely southern, either by birth or descent, its sympathies were with the South. The class truly loyal was the Germans, who numbered about 60,000 of the population, and who were characterized by the Secessionists as the "D—— Dutch." The blockade of the river reduced the whole business of the city to about a third of its former amount. Yet, when the war was ended, St. Louis was quick to recover her prostrated energies. In 1866, and but two years after the war, the city did more business than in any preceding year; and, relieved from the incubus of slavery, which had retarded its progress, it aroused itself to new life.

With the Quaker-like simplicity of its outward appearance, its absence of business rush, and its general tranquillity, St. Louis' resemblance to the Quaker City ceases. It is a town of composite character, but from its earliest existence has been under Roman Catholic domination. Even now the Roman Catholic element predominates in its population. And its French and Spanish founders, though their quaint buildings are torn down and replaced by more modern ones, and their very streets re-named, have left their impress upon the city. Its many places of amusement, compared to its population, its general gayety, its stores closed by sunset in winter, and before sunset in summer, its billiard rooms open on Sunday, and its ball-playing on the same day, all give indication of its being the home of a people whose ancestors had no New England prejudices againstworldly amusements, and in favor of sobriety, decorum, industry, and the observance of the Sabbath.

St. Louis presents a pleasing contrast to many other western cities. Its prosperity is substantial—not a sham. The capital which has paid for these costly places of business and elegant residences, and is invested in these gigantic enterprises, has been created out of the immense material wealth of the State—not borrowed on a factitious credit. Its merchants do not make princely fortunes in a day, but what they acquire they keep. With so satisfactory a past, the errors of its youth atoned for, the future of St. Louis cannot fail to be a brilliant one.

Glimpses on the Rail.—Schenectady.—Valley of the Mohawk.—"Lover's Leap."—Rome and its Doctor.—Oneida Stone—-The Lo Race.—Oneida Community.—The City of Salt.—The Six Nations.—The Onondagas.—Traditions of Red Americans.—Hiawatha.—Sacrifice of White Dogs.—Ceremonies.—The Lost Tribes of Israel.—Witches and Wizards.—A Jules Verne Story.—The Salt Wells of Salina.—Lake Onondaga.—Indian Knowledge of Salt Wells.—"Over the Hills and Far Away."—A Castle.—Steam Canal Boats.—Adieux.—Westward Ho!

The distance from Albany to Syracuse by rail, on the line of the New York Central, is about one hundred and forty-two miles, or reckoned by language on the dial, between six and seven hours.

Schenectady, the first stopping point on the route outward, was once hovered under the motherly wings of Albany—her lawful progeny. The embryo city, however, had aspirations of her own, and set up in the world for herself. She now rejoices in a population of about twenty-five thousand, and has separated herself from the maternal skirt by seventeen miles of intervening country. Union College, thealma materof many of the sons of New York and her sister States, is located at this point.

The route from Albany to the junction of the Watertown and Ogdensburg Road, at Rome, takes us through the Valley of the Mohawk—one of the loveliest valleys in the State. At Little Falls the scenery is wild and rugged, and looking out from the car window to theopposite hillside, where the waters break into foam over the rocks, set in a dark framework of pines, the imaginative traveler conjectures at once that this must be the scene of the "Lover's Leap"—a bit of romance rife in this region. But the Mohawk rushes on, unmindful of those legendary lovers; the heartless conductor, who cares nothing about dreams, shouts "all aboard!" from the platform, and the screech of the engine whistle echoes down the valley, as the train is once more in motion.

At Utica we make a longer stop. This point is the largest place between Albany and Syracuse, and is as handsome a city as sits on the banks of the Mohawk. The Black River Railroad joins the main line of the New York Central here, and it is also the location of the State Lunatic Asylum.

Rome comes next in order, in importance and population, and is the last place of any note on the road to Syracuse. It is a stirring little city of about ten or eleven thousand inhabitants, and at least some of its citizens have mastered the art of advertising, if one may judge from the pamphlets which flood the arriving and departing trains. We are repeatedly made aware of the fact that one of the dwellers in Rome is a doctor, and that he doats on curing—not corns, but cancers.

The Midland Road from Oswego, and the Watertown Road—those connecting arterial threads from Lake Ontario and Northern New York—unite with the main artery, the Central, here, and the flow of human freight down these channels is continuous and unceasing.

The second station from Rome, on the road to Syracuse, is Oneida—so named from the tribe of red men who, less than a century ago, occupied this particularregion. A tradition once existed among the Oneidas that they were a branch of the Onondagas, to whom they were allied by relationship and language. Long ago they lived on the southern shore of Oneida Lake, near the mouth of the creek, but afterwards their habitation was made higher up the valley. The famous "Oneota" orOneida Stonebecame their talisman and the centre of their attractions. Many of their tribe were distinguished as orators and statesmen.

The Oneida "Community" live about two miles back from the station, and, notwithstanding their peculiar religious belief and social practices, they have achieved a reputation for quiet thrift, industry and harmony, which their more Puritanic neighbors would do well to emulate.

But, at last, our train enters the outskirts of Syracuse, and penetrating the heart of the city, rumbles inside the gates of the New York Central Station at this place. Outside, all is hurry and bustle, and confusion, as we descend the steps and elbow our way through the crowd, to run the gauntlet of hack drivers and baggage expressmen, with their plated caps and deafening calls.

Syracuse is sometimes known as the Central City, on account of its location near the geographical centre of New York. It was first settled in 1787, and did not pass the limits of a small village until the completion of the Erie canal, in 1825. Two canals and three or four lines of railway now centre here, and contribute to the growth of this enterprising city. The region surrounding Syracuse is rife with the romantic history of that once powerful Indian Confederacy known as the Six Nations, now fast fading from the memory of men. The site of their ancient Council House was on Onondaga Creek, a few miles distant from the city, and is still held sacred to their traditions by the remnant of the lost tribes now occupying the Indian reservation. The Onondagas became the leading nation of the Confederacy. No business of importance, touching the Six Nations, was transacted, except at Onondaga. They held the key of the great Council House; they kept the sacred council fire ever burning. From what portion of the country they emigrated before occupying this region is unknown, but there is a very early tradition among them that, many hundred moons ago, their forefathers came from the North, having inhabited a territory along the northern banks of the St. Lawrence. After a lapse of time there was an exodus of the powerful tribe to the hills and hollows of Onondaga.

The River God of this nation was named Hiawatha—which meant "very wise." He always embarked in a white canoe, which was carefully guarded in a lodge especially set apart for that purpose. Their favorite equipments were white. White plumes, from the heron, were worn in their head-bands when they went on the war path; white dogs were sacrificed. The yearly sacrifice of the dogs, among the Onondagas, was a ceremony of great importance with the tribe, and occurred at one of the five stated festivals of the Six Nations. On the great sacrificial day it was the habit of the people to assemble at the Council House in large numbers. Early in the morning, immense fires were built, guns were discharged, and loud hallooing increased the noise. Half a cord of wood, arranged in alternate layers, was placed near the Council House, by a select committee of managers, for the sacrificial offering. The two officiating priests for the occasion, as well as the high priest, weredressed in long, loose robes of white. At about nine o'clock in the morning the two priests appear. The white dogs following them are painted with red figures, and adorned with belts of wampum, feathers and ribbons. The dogs are then lassooed and suffocated, amid yells and the firing of guns. After some intervening ceremonies, the details of which are too long for recital here, a procession is formed, led by the priests in white, followed by the managers, bearing the dogs on their shoulders. A chant is sung as the procession marches around the burning pile three successive times; the dogs are then laid at the feet of the officiating priest, a prayer is offered to the Great Spirit and the high priest, lifting the dogs, casts them into the fire. After this, baskets of herbs and tobacco are thrown, at intervals, into the fire, as propitiating sacrifices.

Their idea of these sacrifices was, that the sins of the people were, in some mysterious manner, transferred yearly to the two priests in white, who, in turn, conveyed them to the dogs. Thus the burnt offering expiated the sins of the people for a year.

These ideas and customs are so singularly similar to the ancient Jewish religious rites as to suggest a possible origin from the same source. The mystical council fire of the Six Nations, which was kept always burning by the Onondagas, who had charge of it, and which, if extinguished, was supposed to prophesy the destruction of the nation, may have a deeper meaning than that attached to it by the chiefs themselves. It may possibly point to a common parentage with the ever-burning flame in the Vestal Temple at Rome, whose eclipse endangered the safety of the city. Another point of resemblance may be noted. Time, which is reckonedamong the Red men by moons, also suggests the Jewish year, which began with the new moon, and was reckoned by lunar months.

The Six Nations had a firm belief in witches and wizards, and executed them, on the discovery of their supposed witchcraft, with a zeal and spirit worthy of our early Christian fathers. One old Indian used to relate a story something on the Jules Verne order. He said that, as he stepped out of his cabin one evening, he sank down deep into an immense and brilliantly-lighted cavern, full of flaming torches. Hundreds of witches and wizards were there congregated, who immediately ejected him. Early next morning he laid the matter before the assembled chiefs at the Council House, who asked him whether he could recognize any whom he saw? The sagacious Red man thought he could, and singled out many through the village, male and female, who were doomed to an untimely execution, on the evidence of this person's word.

The Senacas, another numerous and powerful nation of the Confederacy, were always noted for the talent and eloquence of their orators and statesmen. Corn Planter, Red Jacket, and other celebrities, came of this tribe.

Syracuse is celebrated for its salt, the country over; and the most singular thing about it is that the salt wells surround a body of fresh water. This sheet of water bears the name of Onondaga Lake, and is six miles long by one mile wide. It is about a mile and a half from the heart of the city. A stratum of marl, from three to twelve feet thick, underlaid by marly clay, separates the salt springs from the fresh waters of the lake. The wells vary in depth, from two hundred tothree hundred feet, and the brine is forced from them, by pumps, into large reservoirs, which supply the evaporating works. The salt is separated from the water partly by solar evaporation and partly by boiling. The reservoirs for the solar salt evaporation cover about seven hundred acres of land. The brine is boiled in large iron kettles, holding about a hundred gallons, which are placed in blocks of brick work, in one or two long rows, the whole length of the block. It takes about thirty-three and a fourth gallons of brine to make a bushel of salt, which will average from fifty to fifty-six pounds in weight.

These salt wells were known to the Indians at a very early period—Onondaga salt being in common use among the Delawares in 1770, by whom it was brought to Quebec for sale.

Le Moyne, a Jesuit missionary, who had lived among the Hurons, and who first came to Onondaga in 1653, with a party of Huron and Onondaga chiefs, is supposed to be the first white man who personally knew about the springs, though Father Lallemant had previously written of them. In a letter which Colonel Comfort Tyler wrote to Dr. Jeremiah Van Rensselaer, in 1822, the first manufacture of salt at this place by the whites, in 1788, is described. He says: "In the month of May, 1788, the family, wanting salt, obtained about a pound from the Indians, which they had made from the waters of the springs upon the shore of the lake. The Indians offered to discover the water to us. Accordingly, I went with an Indian guide to the lake, taking along an iron kettle of fifteen gallons capacity. This he placed in his canoe and steered out of the mouth of Onondaga Creek, easterly, into a pass since called MudCreek. After passing over the marsh, then covered with about three feet of water, and steering toward the bluff of hard land (now that part of Syracuse known as Salina), he fastened his canoe, pointed to a hole, apparently artificial, and said: "There is the salt!"

Salina, or the first ward, as it is frequently spoken of, lies partly upon the shores of this lovely lake of Onondaga, and enjoys the advantages of a close proximity to the saline atmosphere of the wells. The drives in the vicinity of the lake and about the neighboring localities afford an ever-shifting panorama of beautiful views, with glimpses of the blue Onondaga at all points. On a breezy day, in the early part of May, 1875, when the air was soft with hints of coming summer, and the violets along the river banks were just putting on their hoods of blue, I took one of those long and delightful drives which so exhilarates the blood and gives a kind of champagne sparkle to the mind. If there are any known remedial agents which can possibly be an improvement on pure air and sunshine, will you tell us what they are, Dr. Dio Lewis? My companion was keen-witted and full of jollity; we had a spirited animal, and miles upon miles of space quickly vanished behind us, as we sped onward over the smooth roadway. The hills seemed to open wide their portals and close again as we passed; the valleys allured us with their romantic, winding roads, and Lake Onondaga, viewed from all points of the compass, tossed itself into a multitude of little waves which sparkled in the sunshine like a thousand diamonds. The sky, changeful as April, alternated between floating fields of atmospheric blue and pillars of gray cloud. As we rounded the last curve of the lake, the tall chimneys and long, lowbuildings of the salt works at Salina came into view, forming a more conspicuous than elegant feature of the landscape.

The principal street for retail business in Syracuse is named Salina, and it always wears an air of brisk trade and enterprise. The large dry goods houses of McCarthy and of Milton Price are located on this street. Some of the public edifices are built of Onondaga limestone, quarried a few miles out of the city. It makes very handsome building material, as the Court House and other structures will testify. The ranking hotels of Syracuse are the Vanderbilt and Globe, though the Remington, Syracuse and Empire Hotels are well-kept and well-conducted houses.

The Erie Canal runs through the heart of the city, and the bridges over it are arranged with draws. The first steam canal boat I ever saw lay moored at this place, at the corner of Water and Clinton streets. It was gay with new paint and floating pennons, and created quite a sensation on its first trip out. It belonged to Greenway, the great ale man, and was named after his daughter.

The High School, on West Genesee street, has a delightful location on the banks of Onondaga Creek, and combines with its other advantages that of a public library. It has a free reading room, thrown open to the city at large, and a choice collection of many thousand volumes adorn its shelves. Sitting at the open window and listening to the noisy waters of the creek as it flows past, intermingled with an occasional bird carol overhead, I could almost imagine myself out in the heart of the country, away from the struggling masses of the crowded marts, in their mad race after wealth—withnothing more inharmonious around me than the bird orchestra of some imaginary June sky, the low sweep of waters and the sound of the summer wind among the pines.

Syracuse rates herself sixty thousand strong, and I am unable to say whether the hard figures will bear her out in this assertion. Perhaps, however, a small margin of egotism ought to be subtracted from our estimate of ourselves, especially when "ourselves" means a city.

James street is decidedly the handsomest thoroughfare in Syracuse. It is wide, well paved, and two miles or more in length. On it are congregated, with a few exceptions, the finest residences of the city. These are surrounded, for the most part, by spacious grounds, and some of them by groves of primeval forest growths. The street is an inclined plane on one side, with a gentle declivity on the other. From its top, quite an extensive prospect opens to the view, taking in most of the city of salt, and its enclosing amphitheatre of hills. Looking down the street, and over across the valley, the gray turrets of Yates' Castle can be seen, nearly hidden by its surrounding trees.

"A castle?" I hear my imaginary reader question. "Yes," I answer, a castle,—the real, genuine, article—towers, turrets, gate-keeper's lodge and all; nothing lacking but moat and drawbridge, to transport one to the times of tournament and troubadours—of knight-errantry and fair ladies riding to the chase with hawk and hound.

A Latin motto, on the coat of arms adorning the arched gateway, points to an ancestry of noble blood. But, alas for greatness! not even the lodge-keeper's family knew the meaning of the Latin inscription. Welearned, however, that the armorial emblems were of English origin, and belonged, possibly, to the times of the royal Georges. The grounds about the castle are quite in keeping with the building itself. Winding roads, rustic bridges, statuary, summer-houses and fountains, fitly environ this antique pile.

Just opposite this place, on the hill-top, stands the Syracuse University—its white walls outlined in bold relief against the sky. It is a Methodist institution, and its chief office is to prepare young men for the ministry, and teach the youthful idea how to shoot, in accordance with modern theology. The location is breezy enough, and high enough, to satisfy almost any one's aspirations, and, if height has anything to do with ideas, the thoughts of these young students ought to be well-nigh heavenly.

But, at last, we are compelled to say good-bye to Syracuse, and all its pleasant associations, to say nothing of its salt. Westward the star of Empire takes its way, and we have engaged a seat on the same train. It is with real regret that we part company with these cities of our beloved New York—Syracuse not the least among them. But the arrival of the midnight "Lightning Express" for Rochester cuts short our musings, and we are soon whirling away in the darkness, leaving the country of the Onondagas far behind us, slumbering in the arms of night.

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