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 |^==7ffROAD-NFW ^OR:ZIt^CHICAGO. 
 
PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD 
 
 h 
 
 TO THE 
 
 Columbian Exposition, 
 
 WITH DESCRIPTIVE NOTES OF THE CITIES OF 
 
 NEW YORK, WASHINGTON, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, 
 
 AND A COMPLETE DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 
 Exposition Grounds and Buildings, 
 
 With Maps and Illustrations. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 Pennsylvania Railroad Company. 
 1802. 
 
r46t 
 
 KNTFRHn, AcroRniN'f; to Ac i' riF Congress, in thk \'ear l'^w-^ kn 
 
 THE PKXXSVIAAMA RAILROAD COMPANY. 
 
 In ihk OrKicK ok i hk Librarian of Congress, ai Washing ion, I). C 
 
 «, /'hilaUelphia. I'u. 
 
Pennsylvania Railroad 
 
 COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION, 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 IRE ISLAND Light has been sighted and passed ; 
 the twin lights on the highlands of Navesink have 
 come into view, and now Sandy Hook, with its 
 waste of sand, its light-house, and its embry- 
 otic fortilications is lying off to your left. 
 Ahead of you is the quarantine ship, from 
 , -, \\hich all \'essels arri\'ing from infected ports 
 _ ,- are boarded, and three miles beyond you can 
 see the quarantine stations on Swinburne and 
 ^; — -^^' Hoffman Islands. Now the shores of Long 
 w;^^^^^Ll "' Island on your right and Staten Island on your 
 -~-— -- -^^=- ]gfl- begin gradually to converge, and a few min- 
 utes later you find yourself within what is known 
 as the Narro^\•s, the passage-way from the outer ^'estibule, or 
 lower bay, into the beautiful and capacious harbor of New York. 
 The health officer and the customs inspector haA'e come 
 aboard, and the latter is distributing blank forms upon which you 
 are expected to make a statement of any dutiable goods that you 
 may have among your luggage, the term dutiable applying to 
 such articles as are not intended for your own personal use. 
 
 (3) 
 
While this formaHty is being gone through with the harbor forti- 
 fications — Fort Wadsworth, Fort Hamilton, and Fort Lafayette — 
 are left behind, the Narrows widen into New York Bay, and the 
 Island of Manhattan, upon which is located the metropolis of 
 America, lies directly in front of the steamer. 
 
 Bartholdi's colossal statue, ' ' Liberty Enlightening the World, 
 the largest statue ever constructed, rises to a height of something 
 like three hundred feet above Liberty Lsland, which occupies an 
 imposing position in the middle of the harbor, and you recall, as 
 you gaze upon its gigantic proportions, that it was a gift of France 
 to the United States to commemorate the good-will that has e\^er 
 existed between the two nations. Through the mist that over- 
 hangs the water the East River Bridge, with its two sky-scrap- 
 ing towers and its sixteen hundred feet of space between — the 
 largest suspension bridge in the \\'orld — looms up in the dis- 
 tance ; Governor's Island, a most important feature in the 
 harbor defense of New York, is now on your right, and Ellis 
 Island, the landing-place for immigrants, has come into sight 
 on your left, lying between Liberty Island and the New Jersey 
 shore. 
 
 Now it is that you gather your first impressions of the chief 
 city of the new world, the towering buildings, cupolas, and 
 spires of which are before you. On the right is Brooklyn, 
 the City of Churches, and on the left Jersey City, but l^etwecn 
 them lies the great pulsing heart of American civilization — 
 New \'ork. 
 
 Having landed, the choice of an hotel first engrosses your 
 attention. The hotels of the city are numerous, and in point of 
 location, rates, .character of accommodations, and cuisine there 
 is large variety. The more popular houses are located on upper 
 Broadway and Fifth Avenue, and here you will disco\'er a dozen 
 or more from which you may choose, with a fair chance of being 
 well satisfied. An excellent plan, when economy is an object, is 
 

 
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to secure lodgings in a central location and patronize the restau- 
 rants and cafes which abound in the vicinity, and at many of which 
 a table d' hote breakfast may be obtained for from twenty-five to 
 fifty cents and a table d' hote dinner for from fifty cents to one 
 dollar and fifty cents, usually with wine included. 
 
 The principal hotels are mentioned by name and located on 
 the map of the city included in these pages. 
 
 Having- settled upon a hotel you will now proceed to get a 
 more definite knowledge of the city than you have hitherto 
 acquired, and if you are wise you will walk at once to the nearest 
 station of the Sixth Avenue branch of the Manhattan Elevated 
 Railway. The chances are that it is not more than two or three 
 blocks from your hotel. Mounting to the station for " down- 
 town trains," on the west side of the street, you pay five cents 
 for a ticket, which you deposit in a box at the entrance to 
 the platform, and board the first train labeled "South Ferry" 
 that comes along. In no better way than this can you get an idea 
 of the people you have come among. The passengers in the car 
 where you seat yourself are constantly changing. At each sta- 
 tion some alight and others get on, and in your twenty minutes' 
 ride the chances are you have had a glimpse of every type of 
 New York resident. In this way, too, you are able to gather an 
 impression from the car windows of several different and distinct 
 sections of the city — the shopping district from Twenty-third 
 Street to Fourteenth Street, the French quarter, and the old 
 residence quarter, in the neighborhood of Washington Square, 
 a glimpse of which, with its marble arch, may be had through 
 some of the cross-streets over which you are whirled ; the 
 wholesale trade district, that lies just east of the long line 
 of piers stretching along the North River ; and then as the 
 road approaches nearer to Broadway cheap stores, in front of 
 which alluring bargain signs are hung to catch the unwary 
 country visitor who must pass up this way from the ferry, grow 
 
niar\e]ouslv frequent. The line, you find, comes to an end in 
 Battery Park, at the southern extremity of the city, where the 
 se\eral branches of the elevated road join in a common station. 
 Ha\ing' descended to terra /iriiia in front ot an array of ferry- 
 houses, from which boats connect with Brooklyn, Bay Ridge. 
 Staten Island, and Ellis, Liberty, and < ioxernor's Islands, you 
 are in what was in the old colonial days the most fashionable 
 I)art of the cit\-. West of the ferries is the Barge Office, where 
 the Sur\c\ur of the Port has a branch office and the customs 
 inspectors their headquarters, and where, during the interval 
 between the abandonment of Castle Garden and the occupancy of 
 Ellis Island, was the depot for the landing of immigrants. Here, 
 too, is the United States Marine Hospital, and beyond, situated 
 upon the fine sea wall which stretches around the lower edge of 
 Batter\- Park, and from which a superb \icw of the harbor is 
 obtainable, is the building known as Castle Garden, which has 
 been in turn a fortification, a summer garden, and a landing depot 
 for immigrants. 
 
 Bowling Green is only a few blocks away, but between the 
 Battery and it, on Whitehall Street, are two structures worthv 
 of notice — the United ^States Army building, where quartermas- 
 ters' supplies and the like are stored, and the Produce E.xchange, 
 a magnificent edifice of granite, brick, terra cotta and iron, which 
 cost three and a ([uarter millions of dollars, and on the floor of 
 the main hall of which it is said se\ en thou.sand men could cf)m- 
 fortably transact business at one time. An elevator will carr\- 
 you to the top of the high tower, from which a bird's-eve \iew of 
 the city can be obtained. 
 
 From Bowling Green you enter Broadwa\', the main arter\- 
 of the metropolis, and a walk back to your hotel, a distance 
 of about three miles, will not only afford you an excellent no- 
 tion of the citv, but give you a view of many points of interest 
 as well. 
 
In the next block, opposite the head of Wall Street, is Old 
 Trinity Church, as fine an example of gothic architecture as is to 
 be found in the city, and surrounded by a graveyard that is rich 
 in historical interest, some of the headstones dating back to the 
 time of the original church building, which was the first home of 
 the Church of England in America. The church spire is two hun- 
 dred and eighty-four feet high. 
 
 On Wall Street, the western end of which is at Trinity's door, 
 are some of the principal office buildings of the city, an entrance to 
 the Stock Exchange, the main fronts of which are on Broad and 
 New Streets, the United States Sub-Treasury, and the Custom 
 House. The scene within the Stock Exchange, the visitors' gal- 
 lery of which is reached from Wall Street, will well repay a A'isit. 
 From this building telegraph -wires run to every part of the coun- 
 trv and the financial pulse of the nation is taken at intervals of 
 less than a second. 
 
 In the vaults of the Sub-Treasury, at the corner of Wall and 
 Nassau Streets, are deposited millions of dollars of the nation's 
 funds, but its interest does not lie so much in this fact as in the 
 historic one that it occupies the site of old Federal Hall, on the 
 balcony of which Washington took the oath of office as first Pres- 
 ident of the United States, in 1789. A bronze statue of Washing- 
 ton taking the oath adorns the steps of the present building. 
 
 Adjoining the Sub-Treasury is the United States Assay Office, 
 erected in 1823, and the oldest building in the street, where bull- 
 ion and old coin and plate of all descriptions are bought and 
 melted into bricks to be used by the mints in coining. 
 
 The Custom House, a block nearer the river on the other side 
 of the street, is a building of gray granite, in the doric style of ar- 
 chitecture, with portico and high granite columns. As may be 
 inferred from the fact that its average receipts in duties collected on 
 imports is about $155,000,000 against less than $3,000,000 expen- 
 ses, it is enormously profitable to the United States Government. 
 
8 / 
 
 The ]jrincipal building on Broadway between Wall Street and 
 the Post-Office is that of the Equitable Life Assurance Society, on 
 the east side of the thoroughfare, between Pine and Cedar Streets. 
 Through it pass more than thirt)' thousand people daily, and it ac- 
 commodates something like thirty-five hundred tenants. In its 
 tower are the headquarters of the United States Signal Serxice in 
 New York, on two of its u]iper floors is accommodated the Law- 
 yer's Club, and on its ground floor and in the basement is the 
 Cafe Sa\"arin. 
 
 The Western Union Telegraph Company's building is a short 
 distance above the Equitable, on the west side of Broadway, at the 
 corner of Dey Street, an inspiring structure, in which are the head- 
 cjuarters of the telegraph company named. An idea of the com- 
 pany's business may be obtained from the statement that in 1890 
 it handled fifty-five million eight hundred and seventy-eight thou- 
 sand seven hundred and sixty-two messages, and that its receipts 
 were $22,387,027.91. 
 
 At the corner where Park Row on the east and Vesey Street 
 on the west join Broadway are four buildings that merit your at- 
 tention. The New York Herald building, of white marble, on 
 your right, old St. Paul's Chapel across the way on your left — a 
 chapel of Trinity parish and the only colonial relic among the 
 churches of New York : the Astor House, at one time the ])rinci- 
 pal hotel of the city, and still a good paying property. On the 
 northeast corner of Broadwa)' and Vesey Street, and directly 
 ahead of you, filling up the triangle formed by Park Row on one 
 side, Broadway on the other, and City Hall Park in the rear, the 
 gray granite building of the United States Post-Ofifice, with 
 its dome modeled after that of the Louvre, pointing skyward 
 on the Broadway side. The Post-Ofifice building, in which the 
 business done invoh'es the handling on an axerage of o\er 
 six hundred thousand letters daily and about nine thousand bags 
 of newspaper mail, includes also the United States Courts, the 
 
United States District Attorney's ofifice, and offices used for 
 other Federal purposes. 
 
 In the old colonial clays City Hall Park, the last vestige of 
 which you find north of the Post-Office, but which originally 
 included the ground on which the Post-Office is built, was used for 
 public celebrations, as five times a year a public bonfire was 
 lighted upon it, and food and drink distributed at the expense of 
 the town. It is now merely a beauty spot in the midst of a 
 breathless field of business. Across its green the imposing news- 
 paper structures of Park Row may be seen rising heavenward, 
 while in the middle distance the city's municipal buildings give 
 the scene a picturesqueness that is to be found nowhere else in the 
 city. The City Hall, with its marble front and sides, and its 
 cupola capped by a statue of justice, contains the offices of several 
 city officials, including that of the Mayor. North of the City 
 Hall is the New Court House, of white marble, while to the east 
 is the old Hall of Records or Register's Office, a relic of the 
 Revolutionary war. 
 
 Mercantile houses of more or less importance now crowd 
 Broadway on both sides as you journey northward, and most 
 of the places worth seeing are to be found off to the right. 
 Leaving Broadway at Houston Street you will find only a few 
 steps away on Mulberry Street, midway between Houston and 
 Bleecker Streets, the headquarters of the New York police, and 
 will learn that the force numbers about thirty-five hundred men, 
 including one superintendent, four inspectors, and thirty-six cap- 
 tains. 
 
 A little further north another detour will be repaid by a view 
 of the Astor Library, in Lafayette Place, a few doors south of 
 Astor Place, which runs out of the main thoroughfare. This is a 
 free reference library endowed by the Astor family, containing 
 two hundred and sixty-eight thousand books and pamphlets, and 
 possessing an estate valued at about $2,000,000. Near here is 
 
lO 
 
 also the Cooper Union, founded by the famous American philan- 
 thropist. Peter Cooper, and including science and art schools for 
 men and women and a free library. The Bible House, the home 
 of the American Bible Society, which, since its institution in 1816. 
 has distributed o\er fiftv-three million Bibles, is situated directly 
 opposite the Cooper Institute, in Astor Place, between Third and 
 Fourth Avenues. 
 
 As vou ha\e walked north on Broadway you have noticed that 
 vour \new has been obstructed at a certain point by a graceful 
 church edifice of light-gray stone. This is Grace Church, and 
 vou find that it is adjoined bv a parsonage and parish house ol 
 a similar style of architecture. Its congregation is among the 
 wealthiest in Ne\\- York. 
 
 A few blocks nK)re and \'ou come to I nion Square, a park co\- 
 ering three and a half acres, which here breaks Broadway in two. 
 It is ornamented, as are all the city squares and parks, with foun- 
 tains, shrubbery, flowers, and statuary. From Union Square to 
 Madison Square is a succession of retail houses, forming the other 
 side of the shopping district which you saw from the elevated train 
 in your ride southward. Broadway, north of Twenty-third Street, 
 which is itself a great shopping thoroughfare, is given up for the 
 most part to theatres, hotels, and apartment houses. 
 
 Having seen Broadway, or as much of it as is worth your while, 
 it will be well for you to devote the rest of your day to Fifth A\e- 
 nue. Entering upon it where it crosses Broadway and climbing- 
 Murray Hill, the fashionable residence quarter, you may continue 
 vour stroll to and into Central Park at Fifty-ninth Street. In 
 this you will see the homes of the more important clubs, including 
 the Reform, the Knickerbocker, the Calumet, the Manhattan, the 
 New York, and the Union League. The Union Club and the 
 Lotus are situated on Fifth A\enue, but south of Twenty-third 
 Street, while the Manhattan Athletic Club and the New York 
 Athletic Club are on side avenues, the former on Madison A\'enue 
 
at Forty-fourth Street and the later on Sixth Avenue at Fifty- 
 fifth Street. You will see, too, the mansions of many of New 
 York's millionaires, including those of the Vanderbilts, between 
 Fifty-first and Fifty-second Streets ; and St. Patrick's Cathe- 
 dral, the largest and handsomest church building in the United 
 States. 
 
 A drive around Central Park and a visit to the Metropolitan 
 Museum of Art situated therein should be considered necessary to 
 obtain even a cursory impression of the city. The Park comprises 
 eight hundred and forty acres, with nine miles of winding drives ; its 
 lakes and ponds cover an area of forty-three and one-quarter acres, 
 and it includes among its features of interest an obelisk presented 
 to the city by the Khedive of Egypt, and brought to this countr}- 
 from Alexandria in 1880. A menagerie, rich in animals oi all 
 kinds, takes up ten acres of the Park's land. The Metropolitan 
 Museum of Art contains many valuable and famous pictures and 
 some costly and rare collections of antiquities. 
 
 Thus far you have seen only the bright side of New York. 
 A visit to the Bowery, to Chinatown, and to the Italian quarter, 
 where may be seen the dark side, cannot fail to interest you it you 
 are a student of human nature ; and if, moreover, you care to note 
 how a city grows it may be well to take trips on the ele\'ated roads 
 to their northern termini, when you will be able to form some 
 conception of how New York's million and a half of souls are 
 housed, and how more room is being made each year for a con- 
 stantly increasing population. 
 
 Having seen New York, whether well or ill depends upon the 
 time you have devoted to it, you make ready for your nine hun- 
 dred mile journey across the continent to Chicago and the Colum- 
 bian Exposition. The Pennsylvania Railroad's line you learn is 
 the safest, the speediest, the most comfortable, and the most 
 picturesque, and you choose it, as a matter of course. The 
 company has two passenger stations in New York, one at the 
 
12 
 
 foot of Desbrosses Street for the accommodation of passengers 
 like yourself from up-to\vn, and one at the foot of Cortlandt Street 
 for the convenience of business men and others who are engaged 
 in the lower part of the city. A cab will carry you from your 
 hotel to Desbrosses Street Ferry in from fifteen 
 to thirty minutes, and the cabman will expect 
 a dollar for doing so. If you have a half 
 hour to spare the Sixth Avenue elevated 
 road to Grand Street and from there a 
 cross-town car to the ferry will 
 be a cheaper route ; or you may 
 continue on 
 the elevated 
 "~^' train to Cort- 
 
 landt Street, 
 from which 
 station the 
 down-town 
 ferry is but 
 about three minutes' walk distant. You will find the ferry-houses 
 roomy and comfortable, while as for the ferry-boats that carry you 
 across the North or Hudson River to Jersey City, the eastern ter- 
 minus of the Pennsylvania Railroad, they are veritable floating 
 palaces, large, light, and luxuriously appointed, with an upper 
 saloon and deck from which a most excellent view of the river 
 front and shipping of the city may be had. 
 
THE START FOR THE WEST. 
 
 A GREAT high, wide-spreading, graceful arch, through the white 
 glass of which the sunlight filters down over lines of long, sleek 
 passenger cars, made up into trains about to start for various 
 
 sections of the country. A 
 half dozen surcharged loco- 
 "^ , motives far away 
 down the vast 
 transparent 
 roofed inclos- 
 ure are sending 
 up clouds of 
 white steam, 
 the music of which, 
 as it comes moaning 
 from the open safety 
 valves, mingles with 
 the clatter of hurrying 
 baggage trucks, the 
 distant rattle of whirling- 
 ratchet wheels making fast 
 an arriving ferry-boat, the so- 
 norous voices of the conductors 
 in blue uniforms and sih-er buttons 
 standing at the head of the long lanes 
 ot platforms and directing passengers to 
 _ their soon-to-be-moving trains, and the mcessant 
 drone ot the overladen newsboys with their daily and weekly 
 papers, the latest magazines, the newest novels, and the inevit- 
 able silk traveling caps. 
 
 (13) 
 
14 
 
 You are in the Jersey City station of America's greatest rail- 
 road — the Pennsylvania. Behind you, across the river, Hes the 
 metropoHs ot the new world — New York ; before you, at the end 
 of nine hundred miles of glistening steel rails, rises the eighth 
 wonder of the world, the city that was built in a day — Chicago. 
 A clock above your head tells )-ou that it is ten minutes after ten 
 in the morning, and a time-table in your hand informs you that 
 before this hour to-morrow you will have arrived at your Mecca, 
 the Exposition that celebrates four centuries of American develop- 
 ment. 
 
 " Philadelphia, Pittsburg, Chicago, and the West ! " 
 
 The \^oice of the conductor of the most sumptuous railway 
 train that the mind of man ever conceived — the Pennsylvania 
 Limited — rings out clear and sharp above the babel of other 
 sounds. A negro porter takes your portmanteau and your rugs, 
 and you hurry forward. Your ticket indicates your location for 
 the journey. It is in "Car 2," perhaps, "Lower 12," which 
 means the middle Pullman sleeping car of the train, and one of 
 the lower berths at the rear end ; or it is possible that you have 
 secured the drawing-room in this car, which will afford you greater 
 ]n-i\acy, though for that matter a section, including an upi)er and 
 a lower berth, will be all that you require should you merely wish a 
 compartment to yourself Here in "Lower 12," lor instance, the 
 upper berth not ha\'ing been sold, you find that you are quite 
 alone, and that if you feel so inclined you may draw the richly 
 embossed \elvet curtains which are draped from a brass rod above 
 and shut yourself away from the eyes of your fellow -passengers. 
 
 Scarcely have you begun to mar\-el over the luxury of your 
 surroundings than, glancing out of the window, you realize that 
 the train is moving. So gradually, so smoothly have the wheels 
 started upon their twenty-four hours of revolution that you have 
 not had the slightest indication until this moment that you have 
 passed from under that mammoth roof-span — the greatest in the 
 
i6 
 
 world — and hiwe glided out upon the elevated road-bed that carries 
 
 the tracks of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company over the streets 
 
 of Jersey City and out into the broad stretch of meadows beyond. 
 
 The day is very fair. The mornino- sunshine stealing in between 
 
 the silken win- 
 dow draperies 
 transforms the 
 rich browns of 
 the upholstery 
 into a glorious 
 symphony in 
 gold. The 
 brass work, 
 brightly pol- 
 ished, glistens 
 in the warm 
 rays, and the 
 delicate tints 
 of the ceiling 
 decoration 
 glowing in the 
 light admitted 
 by the double 
 line ■ of \'enti- 
 lators, join in 
 the general 
 harmony of 
 color, which is 
 reflected again 
 
 and again by a score or more ot tlainty mirrors. You have 
 been told that you may breakfast on the train, and you wonder 
 where. At this moment the negro porter looms up in the dis- 
 tance, and the man who occupies the compartment opposite 
 
 A DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
17 
 
 to you, you notice, touches a button con\-emently placed in 
 the wall between the windows, and a bell tinkles somewhere far 
 away. You note that the porter disappears for an instant, only to 
 reappear ; he has glanced at the electrical indicator in the brief in- 
 terim, and now he has come straight to your neighbor and is await- 
 ing his commands. You seize the opportunity to inquire about 
 your breakfast, and learn that you can be served in the dining car, 
 which is two cars forward. 
 
 The inclosed passage-way through which you pass from one car 
 to another is the vestibule feature of the train, and you can readily 
 realize that not only does it afford entire safety to passengers, who 
 in the old days were warned against going from car to car while 
 trains were in motion, but that it aids very materially in prevent- 
 ing that disagreeable rocking from side to side which is inevitable 
 without it. The vestibule, too, with its strong steel framework is 
 a most effective safeguard against telescoping, and as you pass on 
 this discovery gives to you a sense of security which you do not 
 fail to appreciate. 
 
 The car which is between yours and the dining car is similar in 
 every way to your own ; but as you walk through it you observe 
 another feature of the train which up to this time has escaped you. 
 A mulatto girl in a blue serge frock, white apron, and white cap 
 is arranging a pillow for an elderly lady, who is evidently an inva- 
 lid, upon a couch in the drawing-room, the door of which stands 
 open, revealing an apartment as cosy, comfortable, and beautiful 
 as any bijou boudoir in the land. The mulatto girl, the conductor 
 tells you, is the train's ladies' maid, and is at the service of all of 
 the women passengers. 
 
 There is a sparkle of delicate glassware and polished silver, re- 
 flecting snowy linen ; a glint of china, frail and transparent as an 
 egg shell ; a breath of fresh flowers, and a musical clicking of 
 knives and forks. White-coated and aproned waiters move to 
 and fro with deftly balanced trays of smoking viands, and when 
 
19 
 
 a blue-uniformed officer, the conductor of the dming car, has 
 ushered you to a seat, one of these waiters places a napkin and 
 a menu before you. You give your order, and while it is being 
 cooked in the kitchen Avhich occupies a third or more of the car, 
 but which is dexterously hidden from sight, as you sit facing it, 
 by a sideboard on which there is a dazzling array of plate and 
 glassware, you may indulge in whatever fruit the season affords, 
 glancing now and then out of the broad windows at the country 
 through which the train is gliding at a speed which, so easily 
 does it move, you cannot begin to realize. 
 
 Already you have crossed the meadows where are situated the 
 railroad company's repair shops, freight buildings, and coaling 
 platforms ; you have crossed the Passaic River four miles from 
 where it empties into Newark Bay, and are whirling through the 
 city of Newark itself, the first city in point of population and 
 wealth in New Jersey. 
 
 Before EHzabeth is reached you have your breakfast before 
 you, but you stop eating for a moment to look at what was the 
 first English settlement in the State, and what is noM' one of the 
 chief suburban residence places of New York. Railway, another 
 manufacturing town, flashes by, and then, just as you have fin- 
 ished eating, and are thinking about an after-breakfast cigar, 
 the Raritan Ri\-er glimmers beneath you, and the train dashes 
 into New Brunswick and out again, giving you just a peep at 
 the stately old buildings and verdant campus of Rutgers Col- 
 lege, which was chartered by King George III., of England, in 
 1770 — Queen's College then, of course — and of several mills 
 and factories, the roofs of which are on a level with the car 
 windows. 
 
 " Smoking car, sir ! Yes, sir ! Next car forward, sir ! " 
 
 If you were suddenly set down in your own club you could 
 not be more snugly ensconced than you are in this warm-colored 
 room, with its low, softlv-cushioned wicker chairs, its Aclvet 
 
21 
 
 couch, its writing-desks, its book-cases, and its square tables 
 laden with the morning newspapers and the current periodical 
 literature. Beyond the curtained doorway yonder is the buffet, 
 with which you can communicate by means of an electric button 
 always at hand, and from which you can procure whatever you 
 may desire in the way of liquid refreshment or cigars. Beyond 
 this is the barber shop, from which entrance is had to the bath- 
 room, and still further forward is the baggage-room, where your 
 trunks, checked at your hotel in New York, are being carried 
 along with you, not to be seen again until you find them at the 
 Chicago hotel of your choice. 
 
 The train is now making good time through a generally level 
 country, watered by streams that flow between picturesquely 
 wooded banks, and cultivated by well-to-do, energetic farmers, 
 who send their produce to both New York and Philadelphia. As 
 the smoke of your cigar curls from your lips and clouds for an 
 instant the broad window pane you catch a glimpse of a station 
 flying by on your right. It is Princeton Junction, and the 
 smoothly-shaven man with glasses who sits near to you, and who 
 glances out across the fields with a half-regretful smile upon his 
 face, will tell you, if you ask him, that three miles away, at the 
 top of yonder riclge, is Princeton College, his alvia mater. 
 Princeton College, he will inform you, is "one of the foremost 
 institutions of learning in the country, and from it have gradu- 
 ated many of Amei'ica's brightest minds." About old Nassau 
 Hall, the main college edifice, clings many historical reminis- 
 cences. During the Revolutionary war it was occupied alter- 
 nately as a barrack and a hospital by both the British and Amer- 
 ican forces, and it bears to this day the marks made upon its walls 
 by cannon balls during the battle of Princeton, in 1777. 
 
 The Trenton of to-day is noted principally for its potteries, 
 some of the finest art ware manufactured in the United, States 
 being the product of its skilled artisans. 
 
22 
 
 The Delaware River is crossed in a flash, and you have passed 
 into the rich farming" and grazing country of Bucks County in 
 PennsyK-ania. Fifty-eight miles have now been tra\ersed, and a 
 few minutes later you are among what may be considered the sub- 
 . , ., urbs of Philadelphia ; Bristol 
 
 succession of small - 
 'illages lying along the 
 rest hank of the Dela- 
 , are containing many 
 residences of Philadel- 
 phia business men, who 
 make the journey to and 
 rom that city daily. 
 Now you begin to 
 notice mammoth 
 manufactories, from 
 the tall chimneys of 
 which the smoke 
 is pouring, and 
 row after row ot 
 small brick houses 
 with white shut- 
 ters and low, white 
 door-steps, and you 
 know by this sign that you 
 '■■•"^"''^^■■■S^^"^' are in the outlying districts 
 
 ot the city of the Quakers. Street 
 after street you cross at an elevation 
 ab(jve urade, and then you are once more 
 
 BKUAU SIREET STATION, O ' .' 
 
 PHiLADKLPHiA. plungcd suddculy into sylvan scenes ol 
 
 the most picturesque description. Fairmount Park, with its 
 macadamized drives, its hills, and its dales, rises above you and 
 then sweeps away to the silver Schuylkill ^t your feet. Oft 
 
23 
 
 to your right, rising above the rich foUage, you see, as the 
 train thunders over the bridge which spans the river, the surviv- 
 ing rehcs of the World's Fair of 1876— the white-domed Me- 
 morial Hall, which served as an art gallery, and the lower, 
 conservatory-like building, that was then, and has been ever 
 since, devoted to a horticultural display. The city's zoological 
 gardens are on your left as your train sweeps around a long 
 curve prior to recrossing the river at a point farther south, and 
 gliding into the city proper over an elevated road similar to that 
 over which you were carried out of Jersey City. 
 
 The magnificent scenery in which the Pennsylvania's route to 
 Chicago is so rich lies for the most part west of Philadelphia. The 
 journey has now really just been commenced, and after a brief 
 stop at the Broad Street Station, during which you notice that the 
 latest stock and produce quotations have been received and posted 
 on a convenient bulletin -board in this cosiest of smoking-rooms, 
 you walk through the train to the observation car, which is at- 
 tached to the rear end. 
 
 If you have been pleasantly astonished at the elegant and 
 complete comfort of the smoking car and its accessories you are 
 sure to be equally amazed at the delicious luxury of the car which 
 is designed primarily for the women passengers, but which is as 
 much yours as theirs. The rattan furniture, upholstered in rich 
 velvets, the soft carpets, the wide and high windows, slightly 
 bowed, with their sumptuous draperies, the writing-desks, and 
 tables, and book-shelves, similar to those you have just left in the 
 smoker, are but incidents. The chief feature of the car lies be- 
 yond these in the extreme rear. At first glance it reminds you of 
 a piazza upon which this beautiful room opens out, and a piazza 
 from which the view is constantly changing. It is as broad as the 
 car and equally as deep. There is room upon it for a dozen or 
 more chairs. Its sides are protected by the car's sides, which 
 extend out to meet the ornate brass railing that incloses its end. 
 
24 
 
 and the car's roof is its canopy. As the train glides out once 
 more into the open country, through a landscape that is probably 
 more like an English landscape than anything to be found else- 
 where on the American continent, )'ou notice on either hand the 
 picturesque villas and manor houses of many of Philadelphia's 
 wealthiest citizens, who here make their home the year round ; 
 but from your present position you notice something else as well. 
 The road-bed, with its four tracks, stretching away behind this 
 fast-flying hotel of yours, is, you see, in the most perfect order. 
 Its heavy steel rails, polished bright as mirrors, rest upon evenly- 
 spaced cross-ties, imbedded in evenly-broken stone ballast. 
 
 You notice, too, that your train is protected by the block signal 
 system, and that no other train is permitted in the block between 
 telegraph stations on which you are running until you have passed 
 out of it and into the next beyond, and you are thus assured that 
 to be o\'ertaken and run into by a train which follows is a simple 
 impossibility. 
 
 " A wonderful road," remarks your next neighbor ; " the only 
 road in America which combines the three essentials of perfect 
 travel — safety, speed, and comfort. The company not only em- 
 ploys these block signals, which you must have observed, but 
 the interlocking switch, which is another safeguard, and the air- 
 brake, which, you know, places the speed of the train entirely in 
 the hands of the engineman, who, from his position in the cab of 
 the locomotive, is best fitted to look after it. In fact, not a single 
 I)oint has been overlooked by the Pennsylvania Railroad Com- 
 pany in securing to its patrons absolute safety. Accidents to its 
 passenger trains are almost unknown. 
 
 " In the matter of speed," your neighbor continues, " the com- 
 pany is constantly making improvements. Years ago it intro- 
 duced these track tanks, ' ' and as he speaks you see beneath you, 
 between the tracks o\'er which you are flying, a long, narrow pan 
 of water. " The locomoti\'e," he goes on, " takes up water from 
 
26 
 
 these as it goes, without materially slacking speed. The heavy 
 rails and the perfect road-bed are other adjuncts valuable in this 
 direction ; as are also the company's stone bridges. Of late the 
 line of road, too, has been very considerabl}- straightened. 
 Curves have been taken out and heavy grades lessened. The 
 Pennsylvania, you see, considers speed an essential, but always 
 secondary to safety. As for the comfort it secures its patrons I 
 need not speak. The train you are on now is without a peer on 
 the globe. You have here not merely comfort, but luxury. In 
 no hotel in the country can you find more conveniences." 
 
 The idea strikes you, possibly, that you would like to write a 
 letter to catch to-morrow morning's European mail. You had not 
 time before leaving, perhaps. You would like to write, you say, 
 but you fear the motion of the car, gentle and almost imper- 
 ceptible as it is, would make your chirography totally inde- 
 cipherable. 
 
 Your neighbor smiles and asks you if you failed to notice the 
 young man seated before a desk in the little compartment at the 
 other end of this car. And then you learn that he is a stenographer 
 and typewriter, and that what you dictate he will put into plainly 
 printed characters for you, and that he will post it at the ne.xt 
 stopping-place, whence it will go by fast mail back to New York, 
 and leave to-morrow morning on the outgoing steamer. 
 . Shortly after this the conductor of the dining car announces 
 that luncheon is being ser\'ed, and if your appetite is equal to a 
 dozen iced blue points, a cup of bouillon, a chop or cutlet, and a 
 salad, with an ice and cafe noh\ )'ou may gratify it. 
 
 Meanwhile you have passed through Delaware and Chester 
 Counties in Pennsylvania, with their suburban homes and hotels, 
 and before; your luncheon is fairl)' under way you are speeding 
 across Lancaster County, which comprises some of the most fertile 
 farming land and the best kept farms in the State. The general 
 surface of this county is an undulating plain, broken by a few 
 
28 
 
 abrupt elevations, and the picture presented to your view from 
 the car window is for the most part one of vari-colored patches, 
 produced by the well-cultivated fields. Here you may notice the 
 tobacco plant growing in rank abundance, for the cultivation and 
 manufacture of this weed into cigars is one of Lancaster County's 
 chief sources of revenue. The city of Lancaster, where Robert 
 Fulton, the inventor of the steamboat, was reared and educated, 
 looms up to your right, but the line of road only skirts it, and a 
 glimpse of its church spires and the chimneys of its cotton mills 
 and breweries is all that you are afforded. 
 
 Presently the Susquehanna Ri\er is discovered on your left, 
 flowing placidly between low-lying banks, and just as the hands 
 of your watch approach the hour of three the train rolls smoothly 
 into the station at Harrisburg, the capital of the Keystone State. 
 To the north is the Lebanon Valley, embracing an enormous area 
 of highly-culti\'ated territory, abounding in iron ore and dotted 
 with manufactories, while to the south lies the Cumberland Valley, 
 second to no region in America of the same extent in picturesque- 
 ness, fertility, and mineral wealth, and including one of the show 
 places of the United States, the Battlefield of Gettysburg, where, 
 in 1863, took place the most stirring and momentous engagement 
 of the war between the North and the South. 
 
 Once out of the Harrisburg Station and on the road again 
 you have spread out before you an uninterrupted perspective 
 of sparkling waters, verdant islands, rolling hills, and sloping- 
 woodland. 
 
 Five miles farther on and you ha\e reached the Kittatinny 
 Mountains, the first of the great Allegheny range, and bending 
 abruptly to the west your train thunders o\'er the Susquehanna 
 River on a bridge thirty-six hundred and seventy feet in length. 
 To your right rise gigantic ridges sundered by the waters in their 
 passage, but leaving numerous rocks in the channel to break the 
 river into rapids and fret it into foam, while to your left the stream 
 
29 
 
 sweeps away, with its wooded islands, towards Harrisburg, which 
 you have left behind, but the steeples and domes of which are still 
 in view. 
 
 You have sought the observation car again, and the pictures 
 that are presented to your view in rapid succession are alternately 
 
 liY RIVKR AND CANAL. 
 
 magnificent in their wild grandeur and poetically idyllic in their 
 quiet beauty. Leaving the Susquehanna, the road now follows 
 the beautiful blue Juniata in its course through the mountains and 
 valleys, until its sources are reached amid the great AUcghenies. 
 The miniature river, picking a path for itself through the outlying 
 
30 
 
 mountains, has a})pai'entlv ox'ercome the obstacles in its way by 
 strategy as well as power. At many places it has dashed boldly 
 against the wall before it and torn it asunder, while at others you 
 find it tortuously winding around the obstruction and creeping 
 stealthily through secret valleys and secluded glens. So your 
 train, flying along by its side, now passes through broad, cultivated 
 valleys, and a moment later plunges into a ravine so narrow that 
 the road-bed is but a ledge of overhanging rock. Here a mount- 
 ain spur is tunneled through, and farther on, so tortuous becomes 
 the stream, that you find yourself crossing and recrossing it in 
 your flight westward. 
 
 Mifflin, with its memories of Indian wars ; Lewistown, near the 
 site of which once dwelt the famous Mingo chief, Logan ; Mount 
 Union, at the entrance to Jack's Narrows, a wild and rugged 
 gorge ; Mill Creek and its sand quarries ; Huntingdon and Ty- 
 rone are passed in turn, and now you are approaching Altoona, 
 where are located the celebrated shops of the Pennsylvania Rail- 
 road Company. Your ride in the open air has given you an appe- 
 tite that demands satisfaction, but the knowledge that just the 
 other side of Altoona you will pass through some of the grandest 
 mountain scenery on the route induces you to keep your seat, 
 and for keeping it you are amply repaid. 
 
 A brief stop is made at the Altoona Station, and then, with all 
 steam on, the giant locomotive at the head of your train begins 
 the ascent of the heaviest grade on the line. The valley beside 
 you sinks lower and lower, until it becomes a \'ast gorge, the bot- 
 tom of -which is hidden by impenetrable gloom. Far in the depths 
 cottages appear for a moment, only to disappear in the darkness, 
 and then, just as night is falling, you begin the circuit of the world- 
 famous Horse-shoe Cur\'e, the most stupendous piece of engineer- 
 ing ever accomplished ; the wonder and admiration of travelers 
 frf)m the four corners of the globe ; the one feature of American 
 railroad construction that you have been told required the utmost 
 
31 
 
 courage to attempt and the most miraculous skill to achieve. 
 And now, as the enormous bend, sweeping first north, then curving 
 westward, and still curving away to the south again, presents 
 itself to your view, you confess that you did not begin to esti- 
 mate its grandeur. An eagle soars majestically away from some 
 crag aboA-e your head and floats with extended wings over the 
 gulch that makes your brain reel as you glance downward, so 
 
 HORSR-SHOK Cl'R\K. 
 
 deep is it. The clouds into which you are climbing bend low and 
 hide the rugged top of the mountain to whose beetling side you 
 are clinging, forming a whitish gray canopy that extends half way 
 across the dizzy chasm. It is all so large, so grand, so majestic, 
 that you admit that your imagination has been unequal to the 
 task of picturing it. 
 
 Your train is dwarfed by its surroundings until it seems but a 
 mere toy moving at snail's pace around this tremendous loop of 
 
32 
 
 shining metal threads. Across the chasm another train, whose 
 Hghts, as it gHdes through the shadow, give it the semblance of a 
 flight of fire-flies, appears to be racing with your own. In reality 
 it is approaching you, and as you whirl around the northern end 
 of the horse-shoe at the head of the valley, it goes thundering by, 
 and a new race begins with an exchange of sides. 
 
 The clouds which have dipped into the gorge roll majestically 
 away at this moment, and far below you, trailing in and out, you 
 descry a tiny stream of water, the winding course of which is 
 suddenly lost to sight among the mountains which bar your view. 
 It is a tributary of the Juniata, and its waters eventually find their 
 way into Chesapeake Bay ; while across the mountain, along 
 whose rugged breast you are now climbing in search of an open- 
 ing westward, babbles another rivulet that empties itself into the 
 Conemaugh, and thus from river to river until it reaches the 
 mighty Mississippi, and finally the Gulf of Mexico. In a word, 
 you are about to cross the great dividing range of the continent, 
 and at a height of something like two thousand feet above the 
 level of the Atlantic. 
 
 At AUegrippus the grandeur of the mountains seems to culmi- 
 nate. Gazing to the east, range after range rises into view, each 
 fainter of outline than the other, until the last fades into the azure 
 of the horizon. Now the valleys begin gradually to rise again, 
 the mountains sink down, and you find yourself upon what 
 appears to be a rugged plain where industry has found a place 
 for furnaces, mills, and mines, and over which many homes 
 are dotted. As you go through the train to the dining car, 
 where, in the glow of numerous electric lights, dinner is being- 
 served, the train dashes into a tunnel, and the mountain range 
 is pierced. 
 
 Blazing fires showing through a succession of furnace doors, 
 so close to the track that you can almost feel the breath of the 
 llamcs as you speed past, tell you that you are now in the heart 
 
33 
 
 of the coke-burning country and the region where bituminous 
 coal is mined in abundance. You are still at the table when 
 Cresson, the most popular summer resort in Western Pennsylva- 
 nia, flashes by. 
 
 If on your journey west, or your return journey east, you care 
 to get an idea of a typical American mountain resort, you will 
 find in Cresson a most excellent example. Situated as it is on 
 the very crest of one of the Alleghenies, in the heart of this glo- 
 rious mountain scenery, with the Horse-shoe Curve only a few 
 miles away, the location, in point of beauty and healthfulness, is 
 unsurpassed. The grounds of the hotel — an imposing structure, 
 which, with its cottages, has accommodations for a thousand 
 guests — cover an area of over five hundred acres, the greater part 
 of which is a beautifully-graded lawn garnished with flo.wer-beds 
 and shrubbery and plentifully dotted with trees. The house itself 
 is both capacious and comfortable, its sleeping-rooms - are large 
 and airy, its dining halls and parlors attractive in decoration and 
 furnishing, and its cuisine equal to that of any summer hotel in 
 America. Here, too, are to be found mineral springs of unques- 
 tioned efficacy, and every facility for enjoyment, from a livery 
 stable to tennis courts. 
 
 Half an hour later, as you sip your after-dinner coffee, the 
 conductor tells you that you are in the neighborhood of Johns- 
 town, the ill-fated borough that was swept almost entirely out of 
 existence a few, years ago by the giving way of a poorly-con- 
 structed dam, which allowed the Conemaugh River to surge over 
 the town in a devastating flood, causing the loss of several thou- 
 sand lives and the destruction of millions of dollars worth of 
 property. 
 
 As you pass into the smoking-room once more for another 
 cigar, the apartment, under the radiance of the electric lights, 
 seems to have taken on a cheerier aspect even than during the 
 day.. Your fellow-passengers, under the influence of a most 
 
35 
 
 ex'cellent dinner, have grown less reserved. A game of whist is in 
 progress in one of the compartments between the smoking-room 
 proper and the buffet beyond. Three or four men are discussing 
 together the market prospects, taking their text from the closing 
 prices of the day which were posted on the bulletin -board at 
 Altoona ; others are reading, and others still, with their heads 
 close to the windows, are drinking in the beauty of the mountain 
 scenery, which is now silvered by the pale light of the moon ; and 
 in this manner you yourself get an idea of the Pack-saddle nar- 
 rows of the Conemaugh, the winding river below, and the wooded 
 heights above. 
 
 An hour later your attention is attracted by towering columns 
 of flame forming weird and fantastic arabesques against the 
 night, and a communicative passenger tells you that the train 
 has now reached the natural gas country. Village after village, 
 illuminated by this means, is passed through, and then in the 
 distance you descry the glimmering lights of Pittsburg. Your 
 watch informs you that it is half-past nine when the train, on 
 time to the minute, runs into the Union Depot in that city, 
 which is the western terminus of the Pennsylvania Railroad 
 proper, and you are puzzled for a moment to see by your 
 time-table that you will leave for Chicago at 8.45. It is here 
 that the Standard time changes. Heretofore you have reckoned 
 your day by Eastern time ; beyond Pittsburg you will reckon 
 it by what is called Central time, which is an hour slower. 
 
 Here the dining car, which has served its purpose for the 
 day, is taken off, and during the process you seize the oppor- 
 tunity to alight and indulge in a brisk walk up and down the 
 station platform. From the depot you can get but a poor idea 
 of the city. On your left rises a high hill, upon the top of 
 Avhich an electric light appears like a star in the black vault of 
 the hea\'ens, while on your right you see nothing but a suc- 
 cession of railroad tracks. 
 
36 
 
 In point of fact, ho\ve\cr, Pittsburg is a maniifacturino- city 
 of no mean importance, and not only that, but a handsome 
 city as well. Its natural beauties have been enhanced by public 
 and pri\'ate improvements. No more healthy city can be found 
 in America, and in some of the essentials of comfort it has no 
 ri\'al. Natural gas is abundant, and is e;upplied at low rates for 
 heating and cooking in pri\'ate houses, as well as for manufact- 
 uring. Charitable, educational, and reformatory institutions 
 abound, and its public edifices are numerous and imposing. 
 
 Soon after leaxing Pittsburg }'Ou return to your sleeping car 
 to find that the compartment allotted to you has been trans- 
 formed into a most comfortable berth, hung with tapestry cur- 
 tains. The linen is white and delicate, the pillows soft, and the 
 coverings ample. The lights have been lowered, and when at 
 last you decide to retire for the night, you confess that you 
 are as well provided for as you could be under the roof of 
 either hotel or private residence. Sleep quickly responds to 
 your wooing ; and while you slumber your train glides smoothly 
 over the tracks of the Pennsylvania's Western lines, across the 
 State of Ohio, stopping at Alliance, Crestline, and Lima; and 
 then into Indiana, where, just as the rising sun begins to tint 
 the East with the first flush of a new day, another halt is made 
 at Fort Wayne. 
 
 When you first open your eyes the flat country of the Hoosier 
 State spreads itself out for miles before you, and you turn over 
 for another nap, from which you are awakened by the \'oice of 
 one of the dining car waiters, who is making known the fact to 
 the sleeping passengers that breakfast is served. The car has 
 been taken on at Fort Wayne, and when, having bathed in the 
 bath-room, been shaved deftly by the barber, and finished your 
 toilet in a lavatory, elaborately fitted up with basins of silver, 
 you seek the breakfast-room, it is to disco\'er a duplicate of the 
 car that was left behind at Pittsburg the evening before. 
 
o/ 
 
 Before you have finished your morning meal a line of dazzling, 
 greenish blue suddenly shows itself off to the right. It is Lake 
 Michigan, and already you are in the suburbs of Chicago. Rail- 
 road tracks innumerable spread themselves on either side of you ; 
 small stations at which local trains are standing, or from which 
 they are just departing, flash by ; buildings, ranging in size from 
 modest cottages to mammoth warehouses, come and go ; and a 
 man in uniform comes through the car asking you to which hotel 
 you wish to go, and how many trunks you have to be sent. He 
 is the agent of an omnibus line and a local express company, and 
 for a nominal sum will send both yourself and your luggage to 
 your chosen destination. You hurry away to gather up your 
 traps in the sleeping car, and just as you have your portmanteau 
 strapped and your rugs rolled, the train glides into the depot at 
 Chicago, and comes to a standstill — its journey over. 
 
HICAGO has been reached in the foregoing 
 pages by means of the Pennsylvania Lim- 
 ited, and while this is the greatest it is 
 by no means the only train which the 
 matchless facilities of the Pennsylvania 
 Railroad offer to the traveler. Another 
 train, almost as perfect in appointment as 
 the Limited, is the Columbian Express. 
 This train, named in honor of the Great 
 Fair, was added to the service as a relief 
 to the Limited, on account of the increased traffic incident to 
 the Exposition. It is composed of Pullman vestibule sleeping- 
 cars, dining cars, smoking cars, and passenger coaches, all con- 
 structed especially for this train. These cars are painted in the 
 standard cardinal color of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and with 
 their black and gold trimmings present a most attracti\'e appear- 
 ance to the eye. Inside they are finished in quiet colors, and 
 furnished with all the comforts of cars of the highest class. The 
 dining cars are available for all meals, so that every passenger, 
 even though one should not choose to secure accommodations 
 in the sleeping car, may take every meal en Toidc without lea\- 
 ing the train. 
 
 The Columbian Express lea\es New York in the early after- 
 noon, traverses the State of New Jersey and all of Eastern Penn- 
 sylvania before the curtain of night descends to shut out the 
 scenery. The tra\'eler will miss the panoramic landscapes that 
 Central and Western Pennsylvania unfolds to the patrons of the 
 Limited, and, retiring in the mountains, will awake, if an early 
 riser, in the neighborhood of the thrivino- town of Mansfield, in 
 
 (35) 
 
39 
 
 the State of Ohio. While eating your breakfast the unmistakable 
 odor of petroleum will be wafted into the car for the nonce, and 
 by this sign you Avill know the train is crossing the great oil-fields 
 of Ohio, of which Lima is the centre. A couple of hours later 
 Fort Wayne, Ind., one of the most important cities and the 
 principal railroad centre between Pittsburg and Chicago, will be 
 reached, and after a stop for exchanging locomotives the trip 
 will be resumed. A glance at Plymouth, Ind., will be given as 
 the train rushes through, and in two hours more the shores of 
 Lake Michigan will be visible, and the interminable maze of rail- 
 road tracks that cover the surface of suburban Chicago will cause 
 you to marvel how an engineman can guide his flying steed in 
 safety through such a puzzling confusion of switches. A little 
 more than twenty-five hours have elapsed since you left New 
 York, when you disembark amid the bustle of the great Chicago 
 Station. 
 
 It may happen that you will select a still later train from New 
 York, one leaving towards six o'clock, and in that case the 
 Western Express will be your choice. This train is exceedingly 
 popular with business men, for the reason that it leaves the east- 
 ern metropolis after all the work of the day is ended. It is as 
 comfortable in its equipment as the one just described, since it is 
 composed of Pullman vestibule sleeping cars and dining cars. 
 Its westward flight begins in the night, and the first light of day 
 breaks through the Avindow of your berth in Western Pennsyl- 
 vania, near Pittsburg. You get a passing glimpse of the great 
 Iron City and its twin sister, Allegheny, the two separated by the 
 Allegheny River ; you bisect the great State of Ohio, with its 
 di\'ersified industries clearly manifested in the country and towns 
 which mark the line, and in the waning afternoon you cross the 
 boundary line and enter Indiana. After twilight you glide across 
 the corner of Illinois, and stop in Chicago as the chimes on the 
 station tower is telling the hour — 9.30 of the evening. 
 
41 
 
 The real night train for Chicago, however, leaves New York 
 at eight o'clock in the evening. There is no lack of comfortable 
 accommodation on this, which is known as the Pacific Express. 
 This is in some respects the most notable train of the service. 
 It is distinctively the scenic train of the line, as it reaches the 
 mountains in the morning and crosses the Alleghenies when the 
 skies are lighted with the radiance of the rising sun and the air is 
 redolent with the freshness of a new day. The act of awakening 
 amid such scenes is at first startling in its effects, but the breath 
 of the mountains and the grandeur of the scenery in the full flush 
 of early sunlight is full recompense for the loss of an hour or so 
 of slumber. By this train breakfast is taken at Altoona, the 
 mountain workshop of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and after an 
 excellent meal at the Logan House the train proceeds. An 
 observation car is here attached, and an additional locomotive 
 to aid in overcoming the steep grade. 
 
 Within a few minutes the Horse-shoe Curve is sighted, and a 
 thrill of admiration, which expands into a feeling of wonder and 
 delight, takes possession of every one who looks upon the scenes 
 of wild beauty which are presented on every hand. It is a magnif- 
 icent spectacle, and one which will cling to the memory forever. 
 
 The entire western portion of the State of Pennsylvania, with 
 its fiery coke-ovens, smoking furnaces, and flaming gas-wells, will 
 be traversed by daylight, as well as the eastern portion of the 
 State of Ohio as far as Mansfield. Then the shadows of night 
 lengthen into darkness, and the traveler will retire on the train 
 to awaken in the early morning at his destination — the city of 
 the World's Fair. 
 
 Assuming that you have traveled direct from New York 
 to Chicago by any one of the trains described, it \\'ould be an 
 excellent idea to \ary the return trip by a \'isit to the National 
 Capital. This may be accomplished in the most satisfactory 
 manner by taking at Chicago any one of the celebrated trains of 
 
42 
 
 the Pennsyhania System. These trains leave. Chicago at ditfer- 
 ent hours during the day, and carry cars through to Washington 
 as well as to New York. The route is the same as west-bound 
 from Chicago to Harrisburg, Pa. There the lines dixerge, and 
 the Washington portion of the train is sepa- 
 rated from the New York section and is for- 
 warded to the National Capital over another 
 branch of the Pennsylvania System. The 
 line to Washington shortly after 
 lea\'ing Harrisburg is carried 
 over the Susquehanna 
 by a substantial 
 viaduct, and fol- 
 lows the banks of 
 the picturesque 
 stream for many 
 miles. It also 
 traverses one of 
 the most attract- 
 ive and product- 
 ive agricultural sections of the Union, wherein green hills and 
 flowery meadows serxe to diversify the landscape. York, one 
 of the oldest and thriftiest towns in the State, devoted largely 
 to manufacturing enterprises, is the principal city passed, and 
 shortly after it vanishes in the distance the boundary of the 
 State of Maryland is cro.ssed. A beautiful stretch of country 
 spreads out from both sides of the railway, until the train enters 
 the prosperous commercial city of Baltimore. One may well 
 break the journey here, if one cares to see the most interesting 
 city of the upper South. Its handsome harbor, protected by 
 the guns of the historic Fort McHenry, its grain ele\'ators, its 
 monuments, its busy streets and beautiful parks, will well repay 
 the time dexoted to their inspection. 
 
 
43 
 
 Leaving the Union Station at Baltimore the train proceeds 
 under the city, through a succession of tunnels, out into a flat 
 and uninteresting country for an hour's ride until the white 
 dome of the Capitol is outlined against the horizon, and you 
 recognize the fact that the capital of the United States has been 
 reached. 
 
 Returning to New York from Washington still another por- 
 tion of the Pennsylvania System offers its superior facilities. 
 Trains leave for Philadelphia and New York at almost every hour 
 of the day, and among them are some of the best examples of 
 the most completely-equipped fast trains of this great railway. 
 
 In describing the route to Chicago it has been assumed that 
 the traveler would go direct from New York to the World's Fair 
 City and visit the other cities as he leisurely returns to the East. 
 This is by no means necessary, and the reverse order may as well 
 be followed. The Chicago ticket will admit of a break in the 
 journey at any one or all of the points mentioned, and the traveler 
 may use his own discretion in stopping either as he goes west or 
 on the eastward trip. 
 
 In the following pages descriptive notes of the principal cities 
 en route between New York and Chicago are given. 
 
 The descriptive notes, brief as they are, will doubtless serve 
 to whet the curiosity, and at the same time help the traveler to 
 see all the points of interest in each city to the best advantage. 
 
PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 ENTRALLY located in the very heart of the great 
 Quaker City in the midst of its most notable archi- 
 tectural section, there is no handsomer nor better- 
 appointed railroad station in America than the Broad 
 Street Station of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company 
 at Philadelphia, into which you are whirled oyer an ele- 
 '' vated road-bed that extends from beyond the Schuylkill 
 Ri\'er, the western boundary of the city proper, a mile and 
 a half away. Constructed of granite, ornamental brick, and 
 terra cotta in a picturesque combination of the gothic, Greek, 
 and Roman styles of architecture, its general beauty is enhanced 
 by a lofty clock tower which rises from its northeastern corner. 
 As you come down its broad sweep of stone steps and out 
 upon South Broad Street, a mammoth pile of white marble 
 rises up across the wa)', dwarfing the station with which it is 
 in most pronounced contrast, and like a might\' fortress seem- 
 ing to challenge your entrance to the city of the Quakers. 
 It is the new City Hall, and admittedly the largest public build- 
 ing in the United States, not eyen excepting the Capitol build- 
 ing at Washington. .Situated at the intersection of two of Phil- 
 adelphia's widest and most important thoroughfares, Broad Street 
 and Market Street, it may be said to mark the centre of the 
 city proper, both geographically and in point of population. 
 It has been in course of construction since i<87i, and it is still 
 by no means near completion. It covers an area of four and 
 one-half acres, not including the court-yard, two hundred feet 
 square, which is in its centre, nor the grand avenue, two hundred 
 and five feet wide on the northern front and one hundred and 
 thirty-fi\'c feet wide on the others, which surrounds it. It contains 
 
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45 
 
 tive hundred and twenty rooms, and accommodates not only 
 the municipal offices, but the chambers of the Supreme Court of 
 Pennsylvania. The tower, which rises from the middle of its 
 
 pleted, reach a height of five 
 
 terminating' in a colossal statue 
 
 of the city. Chestnut Street, 
 
 cipal hotels are situated, is a 
 
 right as you make your exit 
 
 Pennsylvania Railroad han- 
 
 which are always in w^ait- 
 
 your left as you 
 
 street, will for 
 
 take you 
 
 tel wdth- 
 
 northern side, will, when com 
 hundred and thirty-seven leet, 
 of William Penn, the founder 
 on or near which the prin- 
 block and a half to your 
 from the station, and a 
 som, a number of 
 ing- in the court to 
 descend to the 
 fifty cents 
 to any ho- 
 in a mile 
 that you 
 may se- 
 lect, all of 
 which are 
 
 noted on '^:WI^^K^^M^^^^'- ' ^''': "'^P °^ 
 
 the city. The 
 
 points of inter- 
 est in Philadelphia 
 ' ' I ■ ' Irom a purely his- 
 
 .,...' , ^ :-^ torical standpoint are 
 
 nearly all to be found be- 
 ciTv HALL, PHiLADELPHL.. twcen thc ucw City Hall and 
 the Delaware River, which bounds the city on the east, but 
 Philadelphia is geographically the largest city in the Union, as 
 well as the third city in population, with its one million forty- 
 six thousand of inhabitants, and its landmarks, public institu- 
 tions, and other objects of interest to the visitor are of necessity 
 somewhat widely scattered. 
 
-l6 
 
 Historically, IMiiladclphia is the most important ot" American 
 cities. Here it was that the hrst i^athering of representatives from 
 
 the American Colonies was 
 the Second Continental Con- 
 dependence, and here it was 
 ernmcntofthe 
 A walk of a 
 Street from ; 
 cipal shops, • ■ 
 etary institu- 
 you to the old 
 ed Independ- 
 
 l^'iTfiii'Vr.v ■ iiVMtitiiiiiiiVnV, i.nvttnii|llli{!i 1 1 1 iTr:^!] ( 
 
 held, in 1774 ; here it was that 
 
 gress declared the Colonies' in- 
 
 that the original seat of gov- 
 
 United States was established. 
 
 few blocks down Chestnut 
 
 your hotel, past the prin- 
 
 newspaper offices, and mon- 
 
 tions of the city, will bring 
 
 State House, now call- 
 
 _ ,-, ence Hall, where- 
 
 ,il'.(;M''(i!H;i!!rl 
 
 ^mmmmmmmmm^ 
 
 in the 
 of Inde- 
 s i g n e d . 
 occupies the 
 block between 
 Streets, and it is 
 sides by smaller red 
 
 INIJKI'KMHvNCK HAI.l,, 
 
 Declaration 
 pendence was 
 The b u i 1 d i ng 
 middle of the 
 Fifth and Si.xth 
 Hanked on either 
 brick structures. 
 
 in the same general quaintly i)lain style of architecture, and 
 which are used as offices, court-ro(Jius, and halls of record by 
 
47' 
 
 the city government. Within the southern vestibule of Independ- 
 ence Hall, and beneath the tower in which it originally hung, is 
 the old bell which proclaimed liberty to the American people, 
 and in a museum which occupies one of the rooms on the 
 ground floor are to be seen many relics of Revolutionary days. 
 In the room opposite are portraits of the signers of the Declara- 
 tion, the table upon which the instrument was signed, and other 
 furniture which had a place in the halls of Congress at that time. 
 The upper rooms are used as the City Council chambers pending 
 the removal of that body to the new City Hall. In the rear is 
 Independence Square. 
 
 Carpenters' Hall stands back from Chestnut Street two blocks 
 farther east, in the rear of an ornate banking building, and is 
 reached through a narrow court-way. In architecture it is similar 
 to the State House, but much smaller, and presents its gable end 
 to the street. Here the first Continental Congress assembled, and 
 here, as an inscription on the wall will tell you, " Henry, Hancock, 
 and Adams inspired the delegates of the Colonies with nerve and 
 sinew for the toils of war." It was built in 1770, and was first 
 intended only for the uses of the Society of Carpenters, by whom 
 it was founded. Its interior has been restored to as nearly as 
 possible its original revolutionary aspect, and its walls are hung 
 with relics of that period. 
 
 Christ Church, where in colonial days the royal officers at- 
 tended divine worship, and where, after the Revolutionary war, 
 the President and other officers of the United States had pews, is 
 three blocks northeast from Carpenters' Hall, on Second Street 
 above Market. Like the buildings already mentioned, it is of 
 red brick, and was built in 1727-31 on the site of the original 
 church erected in 1695. Its steeple contains a chime of bells cast 
 in London about the middle of the last century. 
 
 Another old church well worth inspection lies about a mile to 
 the south and just off Second Street. It is known as the Old 
 
48 
 
 Swedes' Church, and was built in 1700 by the Scandinavian set- 
 tlers to take the place of a log' structure erected in 1677, four 
 years before the landing- of Penn, which served as both a place of 
 worship and a fort. The old grave-yard which surrounds it is 
 l)articularly interesting'. St. Peter's Church, at Third and Pine 
 Streets, and the Pine Street Presbyterian Church, at Fourth and 
 Pine Streets, are ecclesiastical structures that likewise date back to 
 colonial times. 
 
 On your way back to your hotel you may pass the Pennsyl- 
 vania Hospital building', which occupies, with its grounds, the 
 entire block bounded by Eighth and Ninth and Spruce and Pine 
 Streets, and which is one of the finest examples of colonial archi- 
 tecture still in existence. Built in 1755, the first clinical lectures 
 gi\'en in America were delivered within its walls. 
 
 Returning to Chestnut Street there are two or three objects of 
 interest that have thus far escaped you. It is possible that in 
 going' from the State House to Carpenters' Hall you have noticed 
 a marble structure just east of Fifth Street resembling the Parthe- 
 non at Athens, and have learned that, originally erected for the 
 Second United States Bank in 18 19-1824, it is now occupied by 
 the Collector of Customs for the Port of Philadelphia and the 
 Assistant Treasurer of the United States. You have, too, in all 
 ]:)robabilit)', observed the Drexel Building adjoining it and ex- 
 tending to the corner of Fifth Street, in which the Philadelphia 
 Stock PZxchange has its cjuarters ; but you have nob yet had 
 I^ointed out to you the mammoth gray stone building at the cor- 
 ner of Ninth Street, popularly called the Post-Ofiice, but which 
 contains also the United States Court Rooms, and branch ofifices 
 of the Coast Survey, Geological Survey, the Light-House Board, 
 and of the Secret and Signal Service of the Government. In- 
 cluding the site, the building cost nearly $8,oco,ooo. The United 
 States Mint is about four blocks farther west, and is a most inter- 
 esting place to visit. 
 
49 
 
 Having strolled from one end of Chestnut Street to the other, 
 a ride south on Broad Street as far as the Ridgway Library would 
 reward you with a view of one of Philadelphia's most imposing- 
 edifices, a branch of the Philadelphia Library (a free institution 
 that dates back to the time of Franklin), and the outcome of 
 a legacy of more than a million dollars left by Dr. John Rush, 
 who, with his wife, after whom it is named, lies buried within 
 its walls. 
 
 North Broad Street would also well repay a visit. Beyond the 
 new City Hall is the Masonic Temple, a granite structure of large 
 dimensions and ornamental design. The somewhat ornate home 
 of the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, with one of the finest 
 picture galleries in the country and a most admirable art school, 
 occupies a corner one block farther north. In the next block is 
 the Hahnemann Medical College and Hospital, and then Broad 
 Street is, for a time, given up to manufactories, including, among 
 others, the Baldwin Locomotive Works. A few squares north of 
 this begins the residence part of the street, where many of the 
 most beautiful dwellings in the city are located. 
 
 About a mile to the west, leaving Broad Street at Girard 
 Avenue, you will find Girard College, with its forty acres of land, 
 and its several more or less picturesque buildings. This is an 
 educational institution for orphan boys, founded and endowed by 
 the late Stephen Girard. 
 
 Philadelphia's chief educational institution — the University of 
 Pennsylvania — is situated west of the Schuylkill River, in what 
 is known as West Philadelphia. Its buildings are large and its 
 grounds ample. It was first chartered in 1753, and the growth 
 in value since that time of the land that forms its endowment has 
 rendered possible its elevation to its present proud position. Of 
 its schools, which include almost every department of education, 
 the most celebrated is that of medicine, which ranks with the best 
 in the world. 
 
50 
 
 On voui' way to the University, at Chestnut and Thirty-third 
 Streets you will obser\'e the handsome new building of the 
 Drexel Institute. It was constructed and endowed by the mu- 
 nificence of the eminent banker, Mr. A. J. Drexel, and its object 
 is the training of the young of both sexes in the paths of in- 
 dustry and art. It is a magnificent charity. The museum con- 
 tains many rare objects, and its library many books and manu- 
 scripts that cannot be found elsewhere. 
 
 Philadelphia's clubs, like its other institutions, are pretty well 
 scattered over its broad surface, but its principal ones are within 
 a short distance of Broad and Walnut Streets. Here are the 
 Philadelphia Club, the oldest and most exclusive ; the Union 
 League, the wealthiest ; the Art, the University, the Rittenhouse, 
 and the Manufacturers'. 
 
 In Fairmount Park Philadelphia possesses one of the largest 
 and most beautiful public pleasure-grounds in the world. Extend- 
 ing for seven miles along both sides of the Schuylkill River and 
 six miles along Wissahickon Creek, it is rich in natural scenery of 
 a most picturesque description. Its Zoological Gardens are the 
 finest in America, and it contains in its relics of the Centennial 
 Exposition of 1876 some highly attractive features. Among 
 the private residences of colonial days that are within its borders 
 are Mount Pleasant, once the home of Benedict Arnold, and 
 Belmont Mansion, where Judge Peters entertained Washington 
 and Lafayette. The brick house that William Penn built for 
 himself near vSecond and Market Streets has been remo\'ed to 
 the Park, and is an interesting landmark on one of its princi- 
 pal drives. 
 
 Days might be spent with profit among the numerous manu- 
 facturing establishments of Philadelphia, for it is a manufacturing 
 city primarily ; and it j^ossesses also numerous educational, char- 
 itable, religious, and other institutions that will yield a good return 
 for the time de\'(jted to their inspection. 
 
1 Hotel Bichmond 
 
 2 Hotel Arno 
 
 3 Arlington Hotel 
 
 4 Portland Flats 
 
 5 Hamilton Hou.°e 
 e Hotel Normandie 
 
 7 Chamberlin's Hotel 
 
 8 The Shoreham 
 
 9 'Wormley's Hotel 
 
 10 Weloker's Hotel 
 
 11 Clarendon Hotel 
 13 Riggs House 
 
 13 'Willard'o Hotel 
 
 14 Randall House 
 
 15 Ebbitt House 
 
 16 Harris House 
 
 17 Metropolitan Hot<>l 
 
 18 Howard House 
 
 19 National Hotel 
 
 20 St. James Hotel 
 
 21 Belvidere Hotel 
 
 22 Cochran Hotel 
 
 23 Congressional Hotel 
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 5 Arlingtou Hotel 
 i Portland Plata 
 
 6 Hamllion Houf'e 
 e Hotel Normaudie 
 
 13 ■Vrillard'a Hotel 
 H RaodaU House 
 
 15 Ebbitt Houso 
 
 16 Harris House 
 
 17 Metropolitau HoWl 
 
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 POTOMAC 
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 WASHINGTON. 
 
WASHINGTON. 
 
 ASHINGTON, peculiarly unlike any other 
 American city, is also in striking dissimi- 
 larity to the other National capitals of the 
 world. It was created for the sole purpose 
 of being the seat of Government, and is 
 consequently in marked contrast with those 
 European capitals which were chosen as 
 such because of their pre-oininence in point 
 of population and commerce. Major L' En- 
 fant, a French engineer, prepared the topograph- 
 ical plan of the city under the direction of Presi- 
 dent Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who was 
 then Secretary of State, and took as his basis for the design 
 the topography of Versailles, the seat of government of France ; 
 introducing the scheme of broad transverse avenues intersecting 
 the main streets of the city, with constantly recurring squares, 
 circles, and triangular reservations, which you will find at this day 
 forming the main features of the city plan. The aggregate length 
 of the streets and avenues is two hundred and sixty-four miles, 
 and they are wider than those of any other city in the world. 
 There are twenty-one avenues in all, which bear the names of 
 various States in the Union, and along one of these, Pennsyl- 
 vania Avenue, the principal street of Washington, one hundred 
 and sixty feet in width, and extending from the Capitol to the 
 Treasury Department, you are almost certain to be dri\-en on 
 your way from the station to your hotel, which you will prob- 
 ably select from among the group located in the neighborhood 
 of the White House, or Executi\'e Mansion, and the Treasury 
 
 Department. 
 
 (51) 
 
00 
 
 The principal show-place in Washington is the Capitol, the 
 dome of which you have already seen from a distance, and a 
 long-range view of which you have perhaps caught as you turned 
 into Pennsylvania Avenue. A street car of the Washington and 
 Georgetown line, or a Herdic coach, on either of which the fare 
 is five cents, lands you at the western front of this building, and 
 as you mount the grand stainvay and architectural terrace, and 
 walk around the Capitol to the east, you for the first time appreci- 
 ate the colossal proportions of this council hall of the Nation's 
 lawmakers, and are quite prepared to be told that it is seven 
 hundred and fifty-one feet long by three hundred and twenty- 
 four feet broad ; that it covers an area of three and a half acres, 
 and that its dome rises three hundred and ninety-seven feet above 
 low tide in the Potomac ; nor are you, as you gaze upon the 
 graceful proportions of its white marble walls and pillars, surprised 
 to learn that it has secured the almost unanimous praise of the 
 best judges of all countries as the most impressive modern edifice 
 in the world. You examine with some care the statuary which 
 adorns the portico, and the great bronze doors by Randolph 
 Rogers, representing, in alto-relievo, events in the life of Colum- 
 bus and the discovery of America, and then you pass into the 
 rotunda, which forms the central attraction of the Capitol, and 
 which consists of a circular hall, ninety-six feet in diameter by 
 one hundred and eighty feet in height to the canopy above, in 
 which is painted a mammoth fresco by Brumidi, representing 
 allegorical and historical subjects. Paintings of scenes from the 
 history of the nation also adorn the eight panels of the surround- 
 ing wall. 
 
 Passing from the rotunda by the \\est door you reach the 
 Library of Congress, which, with its six hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand volumes and three hundred thousand pamphlets, is the 
 largest library in the United States, and the fifth largest in the 
 world. From the rotunda you may also enter the room of 
 
54 
 
 the Supreme Court, with its marble busts of the Chief Justices 
 of the United States, and from here also rises the stairway that 
 leads to the dome, from which, if you care to climb to it, a pano- 
 rama of unexampled beauty may be witnessed. Statuary Hall, 
 on the other side of the rotunda, contains a collection of statues 
 of the prominent soldiers, jurists, and statesmen ot each State. 
 In the north wing of the Capitol is the Senate Chamber, the 
 niches in the galleries of which ... ,^ are embellished with 
 marble busts of the Vice-Presi- "^'^ t?V" dents. In this wing- 
 also are the President's room, ^C'%^''^J • ^^^ Vice - Presi- 
 dent's room, 'the Marble i i '1, o./^^ Room, or Sena- 
 
 * % 
 
 tors' reception-room, and the several Senate 
 committee-rooms. In the south wing is the 
 
 Hall of Representati\'es, surrounded by the Speaker's room, the 
 House library, and the House committee-rooms. The grand 
 .stairways, leading from the se\'eral stories of the building, all 
 bear striking decorations, while the walls and ceilings of the 
 corridors, as well as of nearly e\'ery room, are celebrated for 
 the frescoes with which they are illuminated. 
 
 In leaving the Capitol you pass out of the western door and, 
 descending tlie grand stairway, with its wealth of scul])tured 
 
55 
 
 adornment, take the broad walk to the right leading to the 
 Botanic Gardens, where you find in the conservatories some rare 
 examples of the flora of the tropics. 
 
 The Executive Mansion, the home of the President of the 
 United States, commonly spoken of as the White House, lies 
 at the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, between the Treasury 
 building and that of the War, State, and Navy Departments. 
 It is a plain, stately structure of freestone, painted white, with a 
 colonnade of eight simple Ionic columns in front and a semi- 
 circular portico in the rear, and surrounded by grounds which 
 are given the semblance of a park by means of an array of fount- 
 ains, flowers, and shrubbery. The East Room is the one room in 
 the house that is open to visitors — a large, lofty apartment, dec- 
 orated in the Greek style. Upon its walls are the portraits of 
 Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Mrs. Washington. The 
 other rooms on the ground floor — the Blue Room, Green Room, 
 and State dining-rooms, you find closed to you unless you ha\^e 
 special permission to visit them. On the upper floor are the 
 President's ofiice and those of his Secretaries, together with 
 the apartments of the Presidential family. 
 
 From the rear, windows of the White House a view is had of 
 the Washington obelisk, or national monument. It is the loftiest 
 construction of masonry in the world, the shaft of Maryland 
 marble rising to a height of five hundred and fifty-five feet. 
 
 The mighty pile of granite, iron, and slate which you notice 
 on your left as you leave the White House consists of four 
 harmonious buildings, united by connecting wings, and contains 
 the offices of the War, Navy, and State Departments. It covers 
 four and one-half acres ; its corridors combined are o\'er two 
 miles in length, and its total cost was nearly $11,000,000. 
 
 The Department of State, which is in the south wing, you 
 visit first, taking the elevator to the Library on the third floor, 
 where you are shown the original draft of the Declaration ol 
 
56 
 
 Iiulcpcntlencc, the desk upon which it was written, and the 
 ori_s:^inal engrossed and signed copy, a case of historic relics, and 
 other objects of interest. The fifty thousand volumes in the 
 Library, including the works of the great writers of all ages on 
 international affairs, statutes, and State papers, treaties, leagues, 
 manifestos, and correspondence, make the finest collection of 
 the kind in the world, and form a spoke of invincible strength 
 in the great wheel of State. Here, in the room set apart for 
 commissions and pardons, you see the great seal of the Union, 
 and in rooms adjoining and above are found the archives of the 
 nation. The diplomatic reception-room is on the floor below, 
 as are also the diplomatic ante-room and the office of the Secre- 
 tary of State. 
 
 In the east wing of the building is the Navy Department, the 
 office of the Secretary of the Navy occupying a position oj^posite 
 the central stair-cases, which are themselves a beautiful feature of 
 the interior, extending from the basement to the attic. In the 
 corridor you find some superb models of the modern war ships of 
 the United States, and ascending to the fourth floor you visit the 
 Department Library. Other features of this wing are the Hydro- 
 graphic Office, with its chart printing press, the largest in the 
 United States, and the ofiice of the Nautical Almanac. 
 
 The magnificent suite of apartments of the Secretary of War 
 is on the second floor of the west wing, and your visit thereto 
 is repaid by a view of a collection of portraits of the secretaries 
 and distinguished generals. 
 
 At the northeast corner of Seventeenth Street and Pennsyl- 
 vania Avenue you step in at the Corcoran Art Gallery, which, 
 though not a public institution in the sense of being under the 
 patronage of the Government, is one of Washington's most inter- 
 esting institutions. In its galleries you view an admirable col- 
 lection of paintings and sculpture, one bit of statuary. Powers' 
 " Greek slave," being in itself worth the visit. 
 
57 
 
 In passing Lafayette Park, on your way to the Treasury Build- 
 ing, you halt for a moment to view the statue of Lafayette and 
 his compatriots, Count de Rochambeau and ChevaHer Duportaie, 
 of the French army, and Counts D'Estaing and De Grasse, of 
 the French navy, the work of Antoine Falquiere and Antonin 
 Mercie, and erected In 1890 in pursu- ^ ance of an order of 
 Congress ; and then, finding that 
 Department of Justice and the 
 
 PENNS\LVANI\ KAILRl)\D ST \TIOV, 
 WASHINGTON, D. C. 
 
 Court of Claims are on your route, you visit both of these. 
 The enormous building of the Treasury Department has four 
 fronts, the western of which, facing the city, represents the older 
 part of the structure, and is of Virginia freestone, while the other 
 three, built subsequently, are of Maine granite, the monolithic 
 columns of which, on the south front, are among the largest in the 
 world. On entering the building you pass Into the cash-room. 
 
58 
 
 where all cash disbursements in payment of drafts on the Treasury 
 are made, and at the eastern end of which there is a cash vault for 
 current moneys of the United States, containing something like 
 $40,000,000 at a time. In the basement is the redemption 
 division, where women are engaged in counting, canceling, and 
 destroying notes that have been sent to the Treasury for redemp- 
 tion. In the sub-basement, under the northern court, are the gold 
 and silver vaults. In the office of the Supervising Architect, also 
 in this building, you see the drawings and plans of the public 
 buildings erected in the United States, while on the third floor in 
 the quarters of the Secret Service Division of the Treasury, you 
 come upon not only a collection of photographs of counterfeiters, 
 Init a collection of implements used by them as well. The Secre- 
 tary of the Treasury has his offices on the second floor. 
 
 You now proceed to get a view of the south front of the White 
 House by strolling into the President's grounds, where, it it be 
 after half-past five of a Saturday afternoon, you find the Marine 
 Hand playing on the lawn. You find, too, on the other side of B 
 Street the United States Fish-Ponds, where carp and other fish are 
 propagated ; you get a better notion of the colossal proportions 
 of the Washington Obelisk than you did from the windows of the 
 East Room ; and you see the forcing houses and nurseries where 
 trees, shrubs, flowers, and foliage plants are propagated by the 
 Government for the ornamentation of its public parks and reser- 
 vations. 
 
 In this vicinity you discover are the Bureau of Engraving and 
 Printing, where you see the process of manufacture of paper 
 money and bonds ; the Department of Agriculture, with its 
 building, its grounds, and its conservatories, in each of which you 
 find something to interest you ; the Smithsonian Institution and 
 National Museum, with their specimens of birds, beasts, fishes, 
 ]K)ttery, ceramics, and textiles ; the Army Medical Museum and 
 Library, in which are exhibits of medical supplies, two hundred 
 
59 
 
 thousand books on medical subjects, and wax models showing 
 wounds and diseases ; and the building of the Fish Commission 
 with its illustrations of fish-hatching and its aquarium. 
 
 The department buildings yet to be seen are those of the In- 
 terior Department — the Patent Office and the Pfension Office — and 
 that of the Post-Office Department. These are located near 
 together, north of Pennsyh'ania A\-enue, and about midway 
 between the Treasury Department and the Capitol. The great 
 granite, freestone, and marble edifice you see covering two 
 blocks between Seventh and Ninth 
 Streets and F and G Streets is the 
 Patent Office, and you re\^- 
 el for hours in its museum 
 
 
 of 'models, which; 
 includes every machine or de- 
 vice ever patented in the United 
 States, numbering in all about~two 
 hundred thousand. In its superb 
 halls you also find many objects of historic interest, including 
 the original printing press used by Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 Across the street from the Patent Office, on the south, is the 
 General Post-Office, in which the Postmaster-General has his 
 offices, and on the third floor of which you find some most 
 curiously addressed envelopes and other writings in the Dead 
 Letter Office Museum. 
 
 The Pension Office, a few blocks to the east, is the newest of 
 all the public buildings of Washington, and is in strong contrast 
 
 SOUTH FRONT OF THE WHFrE HOL'SK. 
 
6o 
 
 witli tlie others in point of simplicity as well as in the materials 
 used in its construction, being built of brick, terra cotta, and iron. 
 In this the ball on the occasion of the inauguration of a President 
 is held, and it possesses in its grand court ample accommodation 
 for such a gathering. In its many rooms the business of the Pen- 
 sion Bureau is conducted. 
 
 Among the other show-places of the national capital, each and 
 all of which will well repay a visit, are the Naval Observatory at 
 the foot of Twenty-foiu^th Street, on the banks of the Potomac, 
 where is one of the largest telescopes in the world ; the Army 
 Barracks, at the foot of Four and One-half Street, historically in- 
 teresting because here stands the old Penitentiary, made famous 
 by the prominent part it played in the trials following the assas- 
 sination of President Lincoln ; the Navy Yard and Gun Foundry, 
 which is the chief place in the country for the manufacture of 
 na\al supplies, and where you find an interesting museum of 
 na\al relics ; the Marine Barracks, where, in the armory, concerts 
 are gi\en by the Marine Band ; the Congressional Cemetery, 
 where are buried several Congressmen of the early century, two 
 Vice-Presidents — Gerry and Clinton — and generals, admirals, and 
 others of national renown ; the United States Jail, where Guiteau, 
 the assassin of President Garfield, was confined and eventually 
 hanged ; and the Government Printing Office, wherein are printed 
 the Congressional Record and the tliousand and one reports, 
 schedules, speeches, and other papers that are deemed worthy of 
 duplication and circulation. 
 
 Should you stop in Washington long enough you will de\'ote 
 se\eral days to excursions into the suburbs. You will visit Oak 
 Hill Cemetery in Georgetown, or West Washington, which is one 
 of the most beautiful cities of the dead in the country ; you will 
 go out to Arlington, on the Virginia shore of the Potomac, which 
 affords an excellent example of the homestead of an old Virginia 
 lamily, where you will see the gra^•es of sixteen thcjusand .soldiers 
 
6i 
 
 who fell in the struggle between the North and the South ; and 
 you will take a drive through the most fashionable residence por- 
 tion of the city and suburbs 
 to the great Falls of the Po- 
 tomac, where the city reser- 
 voir is located, and on which 
 you will see some of the most 
 picturesque scenery around 
 Washington. Mount Ver- 
 non, the home of Washing- 
 ton, which remains in all its 
 appointments just as it was 
 when occupied by the Father 
 of his Country, must also be 
 visited, as must the Soldiers' 
 Home and the National 
 Cemetery with its fifty-four 
 hundred and twenty-four graves of soldiers and its granite 
 memorial chapel, in which are the remains of General John A. 
 Losfan. 
 
CHICAGO. 
 
 JUMBLE of vehicles, a murmur of many sounds swell- 
 ing into a roar, an all-per\ading cdor of bituminous 
 ' smoke, a street corner with an iron canopy stretch- 
 
 
 ing high above your head across the sidewalk and 
 a row of picturesque buildings opposite. Some 
 one reaches forward for the red ticket with its 
 little punched out holes that you have in your 
 hand ; a voice says : ' ' This way, sir ! " the 
 open door of an omnibus appears before you, 
 and then you hnd that you have taken the only vacant seat 
 inside, that the door has closed with a slam, that the horses, 
 answering promptly to the snapping of the dri\'er's long whip, 
 have wheeled sharply to the left, and that your conveyance is 
 picking its way through the riot of wagons, carts, trucks, cabs, 
 and street-cars. Away you go over a narrow iron bridge that 
 is swung across an almost equally narrow stream, and a man 
 on your right tells you that you are crossing the Chicago 
 River, which divides the city into its several sections, and 
 which constitutes an essential part of the city's harbor. Then 
 you plunge into a canon between huge mountains of stone 
 — a succession of streets overshadowed by mammoth build- 
 ings ; streets over whose gray, grimy pavements surges the tide 
 of the city's commerce ; past the front of the Board of Trade, 
 through the wide doors of which men and boys are swarming 
 as bees swarm in and out of a hive ; down this thoroughfare 
 and across that ; by great piles of building material out of which 
 new spindling structures are mounting to the smoke-veiled 
 heavens ; beside low tumble-clown shanties that you fancy must 
 have been built just after the fire of twenty years ago, and that 
 
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63 
 
 appear not to have been touched since ; and then a sudden flash 
 of light, a knninous sky reflected by and melting into a broad 
 expanse of blue-green waters, cold as steel, and you have 
 emerged upon the lake front and are rolling along a white, well 
 sprinkled, and therefore dustless, boulevard, the verdant sward 
 of the lake park on one side and one marvel of architectural 
 beauty after another on the other. 
 
 You hear the city called the eighth wonder of the world, and 
 spoken of as having been built in a day, because its growth has 
 been more rapid than Jack's beanstalk. As compared with the 
 cities of the East, Chicago is a mere infant in arms, but sitch an 
 infant ! Though not incorporated until 1837, when its population 
 numbered only forty-one hundred and seventy souls, and its area 
 was but ten or eleven square miles, it has in the intervening period, 
 in spite of disasters that would have discouraged nine hundred 
 and ninety-nine cities of a thousand, grown until by the last cen- 
 sus it was shown to be the second city in the Union and the sixth 
 in the world, with one million ninety-eight thousand five hundred 
 and seventy-six people within its one hundred and eighty-two 
 square miles of territory. 
 
 In the great fire of 1871 $200,000,000 worth of property was 
 swept away by the flames. The fire burned for two days and 
 more, sweeping over sixty-five acres every hour, and eating up 
 seven and a half millions every sixty minutes, and yet there is 
 not a Chicagoan living who will not say that the fire was a bless- 
 ing in disguise. From the ruins of that conflagration rose the 
 Chicago of to-day. Since 1876 fifty-seven thousand buildings 
 have been erected at a cost of $256,000,000, and with a .street 
 frontage of two hundred and fifty-six miles ; Chicago has a park 
 system now that is one of tlie most magnificent in the world, 
 embracing nineteen hundred and seventy-five acres ; her boule- 
 vards and drives are unequaled in America ; her commerce 
 amounts to over a billion and a quarter dollars per annum ; every 
 
64 
 
 year she handles from $200,000,000 to $300,000,000 worth of 
 hve stock ; Chicago is the greatest raih'oad centre in the world — 
 twenty-six independent lines entering" the city; $190,000,000 are 
 invested in manufacturing establishments, which employ one hun- 
 dred and seventy-seven thousand hands, to whom $96,000,000 is 
 paid in wages, and whose products reach a value of $528,000,000 ; 
 and the city is, moreover, the greatest maritime port in the United 
 States, the daily arrivals and clearances of vessels exceeding those 
 of New York by nearly fifty per cent. 
 
 A train of cable-cars, four long, glides by you with a whirring 
 sound and goes speeding up the long, wide, straight avenue ; 
 another train of equal length, coming the other way, whirls 
 around a curve at the corner on which you are standing, halts 
 for a second to let oft" a passenger, and disappears down the 
 cross street ; a policeman motions you and the other waiting 
 pedestrians forward, and, raising his baton threateningly, keeps 
 back an all-too-eager expressman who would ha\'e run you down 
 without a single compunction of conscience ; a hansom cab dashes 
 by at the officer's back ; a messenger boy, with a cigarette be- 
 tween his lips, stops you midway betwixt cable track and curb- 
 stone to request a light from your cigar ; a fakir, endeavoring to 
 sell a patent shoe blacking to a crowd, is telling ancient jokes in 
 order to gain attention ; and three newsboys are fighting o\er 
 one customer who has signified his intention to buy a newspaper. 
 
 You have spent the morning in the streets of Chicago. You 
 have walked up one and down the next, through this and along 
 that, until the high buildings have become familiar and the dime 
 museums, with their host of pictures decorating their fronts, have 
 begun to seem like old friends. You have seen the Chicago 
 business man, pushing, rushing, and driving as though he had 
 this day only in which to put his affairs in order prior to depart- 
 ure for another sphere ; you have seen him on his way to his 
 office an hour or two after dawn,' you ha\e watched him as he 
 
65 
 
 hurries through his hnicheon at mid-day, and you have found 
 him in too much haste to return to his labors to direct you to the 
 City Hall, scarcely a block away. You have seen the Chicago 
 woman in her street garb, looking much like other American 
 women, save perhajos a little larger and a trifle more florid in her 
 
 A PITT! RFSi.ini 
 
 \ RAILROAD. 
 
 style than her Eastern sisters, and you have seen the Chicago 
 crowd, restless, nervous, and surging. 
 
 You have found the City Hall yourself at last, and now you 
 are at one of its four corners and are taking in at a glance the 
 grandeur of its architectural bulk and detail. It is, you dis- 
 cover, a dual structure that occupies this entire block bounded by 
 
66 
 
 Clark, La Salle, Washington, and Randolph Streets, not only 
 the City Hall, but the County Court-House as well. Its style is 
 that of the modern French renaissance, and its material partly 
 Upper Silurian limestone from Illinois cjuarries and partly — its 
 columns, pilasters, and medals — of Maine granite. 
 
 It is the successor to the old court-house which stood on 
 the same site in the centre of a beautiful green park ; and which 
 on that fatal Sunday night in October, 187 1, while its bell was 
 still clanging out the dread alarm, took fire from a piece of 
 burning timber, carried by the strong wind for miles, and was 
 totally destroyed. The present building was begun in 1877, 
 upon the ruins of the old one, and was completed five years 
 later, the total cost being something like 5^5,000,000. 
 
 You enter from the Washington Street side the tunnel-like 
 corridor that extends through the entire length of the base- 
 ment, peep in for a moment at the Health Department, pay a 
 brief visit to the City Detective office, where is located the so- 
 called "sweat-box," where criminals or suspected criminals are 
 subject to the "pumping" process before they are regularly 
 committed, and get an idea of the Chicago police force from 
 the Central District station, and a notion of the fire alarm 
 system in the offices devoted to that department of the muni- 
 cipal service. On the first floor, to which you ascend, you 
 find the offices of the Department of Public Works, police 
 headcjuarters, and the offices of the mayor of the city. Here, 
 too, the city's finances are kept in order, while on the floor 
 above are found the rooms of the municipal law department and 
 the Board of Education offices. The council chamber, in which 
 the city's sixty-eight aldermen meet and legislate for the peo])le, 
 is on the fourth floor, and there, also, is the public library, with 
 its one hundred and sixty thousand volumes, and its reading- 
 room, which is patronized by about seven hundred thousand 
 ])eople annually. 
 
67 
 
 In the Court-House you are of course chiefly interested in the 
 courts, where you get an impression of American justice as ad- 
 ministered in Chicago ; but you take time to visit the offices of 
 the sheriff and the corCner, both of whom, being county officers, 
 here have their apartments. 
 
 La Salle Street, upon which you emerge, is the money street 
 of the city. All about you are banking institutions, brokerage 
 offices, insurance companies, real estate agencies. A block to 
 the south, as you walk in the direction of the Board of Trade, 
 which seemingly bars the street at its southern extremity, you 
 pass on one corner the Union Building, which includes among its 
 numerous tenants the Western Union Telegraph Company, sev- 
 eral banks, and the office of the Western Associated Press ; and 
 on the other, the enormous Chamber of Commerce Building, 
 which in many respects is the finest commercial structure in the 
 world and one of the largest office buildings in the country ; and 
 from now on one high building after another towers up around 
 you, and you know by instinct that you are in the heart of 
 Chicago. This central -business section is one mile square, and 
 is bounded by the lake on one side, the river on two others, and 
 a tremendous system of railways on the fourth. These bound- 
 aries, of course, cannot be put back, and if the heart of Chicago 
 is to expand it must expand upward. Into this space every one 
 who has a business desires to get, and these sky-scraping office 
 buildings are the result. It has been suggested that this entire 
 area should be covered with just such buildings as you see around 
 you — buildings from ten to twenty stories in height — and that 
 the streets should be double- decked to afford those doing busi- 
 ness or having business in the region a mode of ingress and 
 egress. A simple calculation, however, based on the se\-eral 
 buildings of this class already in existence, has shown that if 
 such a plan were to be carried out the number of people em- 
 ployed in the area named would be something like a million and a 
 
69 
 
 half, and that even with the proposed double-decked streets their 
 coming and going would be an utter impossibility. As it is, be- 
 tween half-past five and half-past six o'clock of an evening the 
 streets in this part of the city are so thronged with the occupants 
 of the big buildings that locomotion is of necessity both slow and 
 laborious. 
 
 The Chamber of Commerce Building is divided into five hun- 
 dred offices ; there are an equal number in the Tacoma Build- 
 ing, which mounts to a height that is dizzy to contemplate 
 from the corner of La Salle and Madison Streets ; and the 
 Rookery, the most magnificent of all the great office structures, 
 exceeds each of these in accommodations by over one hundred 
 rooms. 
 
 "The Rookery," by the way, which you examine with some 
 care, as being typical of the class of buildings you have found 
 dominant in the neighborhood, was erected at a cost of a million 
 and a half of dollars, exclusive of the ground, which belongs to 
 the city, on the site occupied after the fire by the temporary muni- 
 cipal building', a frame structure hastily put up, which immedi- 
 ately began to fall to pieces, and which was given the name of 
 "Rookery" out of contempt for its poor construction, and the 
 crowding necessitated by the inadequacy of its dimensions. The 
 present building has been built and finished in the most expen- 
 sive fashion throughout. Twelve stories in height, its two lower 
 stories are formed by massive squares of gray granite, whose 
 heavy appearance is somewhat neutralized by the large columns 
 of polished red granite. From the second story up the building- 
 is of fire-proof brick and iron. 
 
 Near by the Rand-McNally Building, the Insurance Exchange, 
 Mailer's Building, the Gaff" Building, the Counselman Building, 
 and several other great structures, mounting upward for from ten 
 to twelve stories, and directly before you, as you turn southward 
 once more, is the gray granite building of the Board of Trade, 
 
70 
 
 with its swarm of human hva, its graceful tower, and its remark- 
 able weather vane — a lake schooner fifteen feet in length, with rig- 
 ging in proportion. 
 
 Now you climb to the tower and get a bird's-eye view of the 
 city and Lake Michigan, and descending to the street again turn 
 to your right past the Grand Pacific Hotel and visit the Post- 
 Office and Custom-House, which occupy what is locally called 
 the Government Building, a huge structure built on the square 
 Ijounded by Dearborn, Clark, Adams, and Jackson Streets. 
 
 It is not impossible that you have an invitation to dine at 
 the Union League Club, the smoke-begrimed walls of whose 
 building are now in view across the street. In such an event 
 you secure an excellent notion of club life in Chicago, for the rea- 
 son that the club mentioned is the great general commercial and 
 professional club of the city. It has an active membership of 
 twelve hundred, its revenue is large, and with regard to interior 
 fittings, furnishing, and decorations it possesses the most elegant 
 house in the Western metropolis. You are served with an excel- 
 lent dinner, and then prior to a proposed visit to some one of the 
 theatres, you inspect the Club Library and Art Gallery, and 
 depart well satisfied that the Chicago man understands the advan- 
 tages of club comforts as well as business conveniences. 
 
 Among the other prominent clubs of Chicago, you are told, 
 are the Chicago Club, the Illinois Club, the Iroquois Club, the 
 University Club, the Marquette Club, the Standard Club, the 
 Calumet Club, the Union Club, and the Press Club. 
 
 To make a selection of a theatre in which to spend the even- 
 ing is not difficult, since Chicago pos.sesses in the Auditorium 
 one of the most spacious and beautiful play-houses in the world. 
 In point of fict it surpasses any theatre in this or any other 
 country in four essential particulars — equipment for stage pur- 
 poses, interior decorative work, acoustic properties, and the con- 
 venience and comfort of its audiences. 
 
71 
 
 Entering from Congress Street you pass through a grand ves- 
 tibule, with ticket offices on each side, to a mosaic-paved lobby, 
 beneath a low-vaulted ceiling pillared by shapely columns and 
 jetted with electric lights. On your right are several large cloak- 
 rooms, while on your left a broad marble stair-case, protected by 
 solid bronze balusters, rises to the foyer. Once within the Audi- 
 torium your eyes are greeted with the soft radiance of a harmony 
 in yellow. Walls, ceilings, pillars, and balconies have all been 
 treated in beautiful gradations of the same color, and the whole 
 glows richly beautiful beneath the brilliance of over live thousand 
 electric lights. You count forty boxes hung with delicately tinted 
 plush curtains, and an usher vouchsafes the information that the 
 seating capacity of the house is four thousand and fifty. 
 
 The entire Auditorium structure, which fronts on three streets 
 — Michigan Avenue, Congress Street, and Wabash Avenue — 
 includes, beside the theatre in which you are seated, a hotel with 
 four hundred guest-rooms, a business portion with one hundred 
 and thirty-six offices and store-rooms, a recital hall capable of 
 seating five hundred people, and a tower two hundred and 
 twenty-five feet high. Its total cost was $2,000,000, and its 
 weight is one hundred and ten thousand tons. 
 
 Among the many other excellent theatres in Chicago, several 
 of which you have passed in your stroll about town during the 
 day, are Hooley's Theatre, where high-class comedy is the i-ule; 
 the Chicago Opera House, where burlesque is a specialty, and 
 the Grand Opera House, where comic opera usually reigns, 
 which face the City Hall from three dififerent sides ; and in the 
 same neighborhood is McVicker's Theatre, on Madison Street, 
 one of the most beautiful play-houses in the United States. 
 
 The play over you may get an admirable notion of the society 
 element of Chicago by stopping in for 'supper at the Auditorium, 
 the Richelieu, or the Wellington, but if you prefer to visit a 
 characteristically Chicago restaurant where well-to-do citizens and 
 
72 
 
 theirs'wives eat oysters and drink bfeer at adjoining tables with 
 variety actors and actresses and other Bohemians, you take a cab 
 to Rector's, at the corner of Monroe and Clark Streets, and de- 
 scend into that enormous basement with its floors of marble, its 
 walls of white glazed brick, and its many flashing mirrors. 
 
 The shops of Chicago you will see, of course, by daylight, 
 and with this object in view you devote yourself for a morning 
 to a stroll north on State Street, which is the longest thorough- 
 fare in the city, and back again to your starting point by way of 
 Clark Street, which, because it penetrates the north division of 
 the city, is regarded as the great north and south artery. 
 
 In the shopping district the principal points of interest are 
 the "Leiter" building, extending from Congress Street to Van 
 Buren Street : the " Fair" building, at the corner of State and 
 Adams Streets; and the "Leader," on the opposite side of 
 Adams Street. 
 
 At State and Madison Streets you have dry-goods houses on 
 all sides of you. The great dry-goods house of America, how- 
 ever, is that of Marshall, Field & Co., the retail branch of which 
 you discover at the next corner, extending over one-half a square. 
 As for the firm's wholesale department it is something like half 
 a mile away, occupying a whole block, built of granite and 
 sandstone. 
 
 If you continue your stroll three blocks farther, passing the 
 Central Music Hall Building, in which is located the College of 
 Music, and the magnificent Masonic Temple, with its twenty 
 stories, you will reach South Water Street with its tangle of 
 wagons, its piles of fruit boxes and chicken crates, and its pyra- 
 mids of barrels — in other words, the fruit, vegetable, and poultry 
 market of the city. 
 
 You return to your starting place by way of Clark Street, which 
 lies two blocks to the west. For the first few squares you remark 
 a great number of drinking saloons, which are to be accounted 
 
CHICAGO (Business Portion ) 
 
73 
 
 for by the fact that the City Hall is not far away. Here, too, 
 are cheap restaurants and a variety theatre, and then the Sher- 
 man House, a hotel on the corner of Randolph Street, facing 
 the Municipal and County Building, looms up. In the next 
 block is the Chicago Rialto, the stamping ground of actors out of 
 engagements, several railroad ticket offices, more bar-rooms, and 
 a little farther south, in the old days, there was to be found the 
 dominion of King Faro and his subjects. 
 
 Approaching Madison Street the crowd increases, and you find 
 the jam at this corner even worse than at the corner of State and 
 Madison. Now you pass a Dime Museum with its garish pict- 
 ures, and in the same block you discover a noted restaurant of 
 the ' ' economy and plenty ' ' order — a restaurant patronized prin- 
 cipally by country visitors, and at which about seven thousand 
 meals are said to be served daily ; while still farther to the south 
 you may inspect an excellent example of the American coffee- 
 house, M^here breakfast customers are each presented with a 
 morning newspaper that they are permitted to take with them 
 when they depart. 
 
 Now you have passed the Government Building and are in the 
 neighborhood of your hotel once more, where you drop in for 
 luncheon, and order a carriage for an afternoon drive along the 
 boulevards and through the principal cesidence portion of the 
 city, which lies to the south and in the neighborhood of the Lake 
 front. 
 
 It is needless for you to attempt to see the entire Park sys- 
 tem in one afternoon, or even one day, for the city is encircled by 
 six large parks which are connected with one another by thirty- 
 seven and one-half miles of boulevards ; and there are in addition 
 to these several smaller parks in different parts of the city. 
 
 When you engage your carriage you tell the driver that you 
 want to see where the prominent men of Chicago live, and he 
 starts his horses off at a rattling pace down Michigan Avenue 
 
74 
 
 to Sixteenth Street. Then he wheels sharply to the left, and 
 after traversing two blocks turns into Prairie Avenue. The 
 probabilities are that you will be disappointed with the street and 
 the dwelling-houses upon it. You have heard, perhaps, that the 
 wealthy men of Chicago live in palaces, and so a great many of 
 
 them do, but the 
 residents of Prairie 
 Avenue, for the 
 most part, have 
 long ago passed 
 that stage of weak- 
 ness which de- 
 mands display. If 
 the exteriors be 
 somewhat lacking 
 in ornamentation, 
 and appear some- 
 what rusty and 
 time-worn, the in- 
 teriors are by no 
 means wanting in 
 either comfort or 
 elegance. The 
 walls of niany are 
 hung with the 
 works of the great- 
 est masters, and 
 the libraries are libraries in fact as well as name. All this your men- 
 tor tells you as you drive along, and as he points out the houses 
 of one millionaire after another. Farther to the south on Calumet 
 Avenue are the homes of other opulent Chicagoans, and the same 
 may be 'said of the Grand Boulevard and, of Michigan Avenue, 
 too, into which you turn for the trip back to your hotel. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN VISTA. 
 
75 
 
 You have, in this drive, been impressed with the extent and 
 the excellent order of the wide boulevards, their firm, dustless, 
 macadamized driveways, their picturesque borders of trees and 
 flowers, and their numerous signs of " No traffic teams allowed," 
 and yet you have had but a mere glimpse of the system, and have 
 not even so much as neared the south parks, where are the build- 
 ings of the World's Columbian Exposition. 
 
 The Lake Shore drive, which you plan to take in the morning, 
 including a visit to Lincoln Park, the most northern of the public 
 pleasure grounds, is over the grandest boulevard in the city, and 
 past some of its most palatial mansions. This excursion, too, 
 shows you the new sea-wall which is being built out into the lake 
 at an expense that is simply enormous, but which will when com- 
 pleted inclose a long, broad body of lake water available for 
 sailing and rowing, and afford a handsome paved beach, espla- 
 nade, and driveway. You may, moreover, if you so desire, stop 
 on your way and inspect the City Water- Works, at the southern 
 end of the Lake Shore drive ; and then proceeding to Lincoln 
 Park revel to your heart's content in the many natural and 
 artificial beauties it afifords— its undulating lawns, its gracefully 
 winding avenues, its placid lakes, its handsome bridges, its rich 
 floral displays, its zoological gardens, and its monuments and 
 statuary. You return to the city by way of Dearborn Avenue, 
 where you are amazed to find a double row of handsome dwell- 
 ings stretching for miles, and equaling, if not exceeding, in pict- 
 uresqueness and variety those that you have already seen. 
 
 Your driver, if he takes a friendly interest in you, now suggests 
 that you see the County Jail, in which the Anarchists who incited 
 the riot and threw the dynamite bombs on that fatal night of May 
 4th, 1886, were confined and hanged ; and so on reaching Mich- 
 igan Street you turn off" to the right and stop before the old- 
 fashioned prison, built after the manner of jails constructed in the 
 early years of the present century. 
 
76 
 
 This visit and the chatter with which you are now favored con- 
 cerning the dynamiters induces you to make another detour 
 when you come to Randolph Street, turning westward to Hay- 
 market Square, where the police monument is erected to the 
 honor of the brave officers who risked or sacrificed their lives in 
 defense of the law, and in commemoration of the death of Anarchy 
 in the city. The scene of the traged}', in which seven policemen 
 were killed outright or died shortly after as a result of their wounds, 
 is pointed out to you on Desplaines Street, between the Haymar- 
 ket* and an alley running east, and you look with some degree 
 of awe upon the street in front of Crane Brothers' manufactory, 
 where stood the wagon from which the Anarchist speakers ad- 
 dressed the mob, and near which the terrible explosion occurred. 
 
 One of the greatest show-places in the city you have yet to 
 visit. Chicago is a great manufacturing city, and a great com- 
 mercial city, but its greatest industry is its live stock business, 
 and to see Chicago and not see the Union Stock Yards is to 
 see the play of ' ' Hamlet ' ' with Hamlet left out. So you put 
 on some old clothes and take a State Street cable-car going 
 south, and transfer at Forty-third Street to a car going west. 
 At the entrance to the yards, which cover a tract of over four 
 hundred acres, you gladly avail yourself of the proffered services 
 of a guide, who conducts you throughout the vast inclosure, ex- 
 plaining everything as you go. "The plant of the Union Stock 
 Yards Company," he tells you, " cost $4,000,000, and the various 
 packing companies having buildings in the vicinity have invested 
 in their business something like $17,000,000 additional. The 
 number of employes at the yards is twenty-four thousand five 
 hundred, and the yards' greatest capacity is twenty thousand 
 head of cattle, twelve thousand hogs, and fifteen thousand head 
 of sheep. There are here twenty miles of wood-paved streets, 
 twenty miles of drinking troughs supplied with fresh water from 
 six artesian wells, and fifty miles of feeding troughs." 
 
7« 
 
 You walch with interest the process of turning a live bullock 
 into so much beef, and are surprised not a little at the way in 
 which the labor is di\'ided, the rapidity with which the transfor- 
 mation is accomplished, and the careful manner in which every 
 part of the beast is utilized for one purpose or another. You see 
 the swine driven in and weighed, you see it killed, bled, and 
 scalded, and its bristles shaved off and preserved, and you see it 
 quartered, the hams and shoulders going one way and the sides 
 into a pickle bath. So, too, you see the sheep changed into 
 mutton, and you turn away wondering at the appetite of the 
 world that consumes all this meat and more daily. 
 
 You have now received a fairly good idea of the city and its 
 principal points of interest, but there still remain many other 
 features that, if you have the time to spare, you may visit with 
 profit. You may, for instance, run out to the town of Pullman, 
 ten miles south of the city, on the shore of Lake Calumet, which, 
 founded by George M. Pullman, the palace-car magnate, realizes, 
 in some respects, the supreme idea of socialism, though no com- 
 munity probably is more unsatisfactory to the socialistic dreamer. 
 Primarily it is the home of the extensive car-works of the Pullman 
 Palace Car Company, which have a capacity of about $10,000,- 
 000 worth of cars per annum, about fifty passenger, freight, and 
 street cars being completed daily ; but there are in the town, you 
 will find, many other objects worth seeing. 
 
 So, too, in Chicago itself there are other points that a month's 
 visit would fail to exhaust — the manufactories, the libraries, the 
 Art Institute, the charitable institutions, the House of Correction, 
 the Fire Department, the schools and colleges, the museums, the 
 cycloramas, the railroad depots, the bridges, the tunnels, the via- 
 ducts, the wharves, the street-car system, the elevated railroads, 
 the banks and clearing-houses, the relics of old Chicago when it 
 was but a swamp between prairie and lake, the fire relics, and a 
 host of other matters and things that the city can alone suggest, 
 
THE WORLD'S 
 COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION OF 1893. 
 
 UT one and a half years ago two-thirds 
 of Jackson Park was a wilderness — 
 two or three small groves of scrub 
 oak and maple, with here and there 
 a clump of fiery sumac alone break- 
 ing the dreary waste of swamp 
 land. When, in May, 1893, the 
 President of the United States shall 
 proclaim the Columbian Exposition 
 open, these same broad acres on the 
 shore of Lake Michigan will bear upon their breast a city more 
 beautiful than artist's brush ever dared to picture or poet's fancy 
 to sing — a city whose pinnacles will pierce the clouds and whose 
 glistening domes will rival in dazzling glory the effulgence of the 
 sun itself ; a city that will teem with treasures gathered from the 
 four corners of the earth ; a city in which the wonders of the age 
 will be grouped in alluring yet embarrassing profusion ; a city in 
 whose harbor will be gathered the marine craft of four centuries, 
 and through whose streets will saunter visitors from every clime. 
 You stand upon the huge pier jutting far out into the lake 
 and gaze about you. The transformation is now complete. It 
 is the spring of 1893. The last nail has been driven, the last 
 exhibit has been put in place, the great gates have been flung 
 wide, and the World's Columbian Exposition is an accom- 
 plished fact. From this coign of vantage you get your first 
 view of what has been prepared for you. Hitherto you have 
 been told a good deal about the Fair in a general way. You 
 
 (79) 
 
8o 
 
 know, for instance, that it extends over not only Jackson Park, 
 with its five hundred and eighty-six acres, but that Washington 
 Park, a mile away, with its three hundred and seventy- one acres, 
 and the connecting strip of land, eighty acres in extent, called 
 Midway Plaisance, have also been utilized to a greater or less 
 extent, and you realize how much more stupendous it must be 
 than the Paris Exposition of 1889, which, with the Champ de 
 Mars, the Trocadero, the Esplanade des Invalides, and the quays, 
 took in but one hundred and seventy-three acres in all. You 
 remember, too, that the principal buildings here cover one hun- 
 dred and fifty acres, while those at Paris covered but fifty-five, 
 and you are consequently prepared, in a measure, for the spec- 
 tacle which rises up before you as you look across the crystal 
 surface of the breakwater-protected harbor, with its many and 
 varied craft, to the gracefully curving shore line and the mag- 
 nificent group of buildings beyond. 
 
 To your right, and by far the most conspicuous object from 
 the lake, is the long, high, yet thoroughly symmetrical structure 
 of the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building, its extraordinary 
 length broken midway by a lofty arched entrance between elabo- 
 rately ornamented piers and surmounted by bright-hued banners 
 that seem, so high are they, to be fluttering among the clouds, 
 while higher still above it all rises the domed roof of glass re- 
 flecting the blue of the heavens. Along its whole extent, too, 
 at intervals, upon the green lawns that slope from its ivory- 
 colored walls to the white stone esplanade that skirts the lake, 
 you notice picturesque little cafes with gaudy awnings, and be- 
 yond, before the turreted structure from which the stars and 
 .stripes are flying, and which you know mu.st be the building 
 of the United States Government, you get a long-distance view 
 of blue-uniformed troops going through a series of evolutions 
 upon the parade ground in front of an encampment of snowy 
 tents ; while just ofl^ shore here, as if to contrast the navy with 
 
8i 
 
 the army, you discover the white hull, spindling mast, and short 
 smoke stacks of a line of battle ships. 
 
 Directly before you, across a broad colonnade, beneath which 
 a high and wide arch gives free access from the harbor to the 
 canal system of the grounds, and along which, equidistantly 
 spaced, are forty-eight symbol-capped columns representative of 
 the forty-eight States and Territories of the Union, is the grand 
 avenue with its broad, gondola-flecked basin, from whose mir- 
 ror-like surface rises St. Gauden's colossal statue of "Liberty." 
 Fountains are throwing aloft a myriad jets that glitter in the 
 sunlight like so many endless ropes of dazzling gems, and on 
 either side the beautiful facades of the Liberal Arts and the 
 Agricultural Buildings face each other from the top of ter- 
 races that gradually slope to the dividing waters. At the far 
 end of the basin, flanked by the Machinery Hall on one side 
 and the Electrical and Mining Buildings on the other, you de- 
 scry the blazing domes of the Administration Building, and 
 even at this distance you concede the good judgment of those 
 who predicted that this, of all the structures on the grounds, 
 would be the crowning triumph of the Exposition. 
 
 The colonnade, across which this view is presented, and 
 which, in its general features, reminds you of that leading to 
 St. Peter's, at Rome, connects, you now observe, two build- 
 ings, and from the one at the north, even as you begin to ad- 
 mire its shapely outline, there floats out to you across the 
 harbor the music of many voices. It is the Music Hall of the 
 Fair, and a Musical Congress is holding daily sessions within 
 its spacious walls. The building to the south, a guard tells 
 you, serves as a restaurant, while as for the curious little 
 structure on that tongue of rising ground, projecting into the 
 lake, at this restaurant's southeastern corner, it is an exact 
 copy of the Convent of La Rabida, at Palos, in which Colum- 
 bus lived while perfecting his plans for his voyage of discovery, 
 
.S2 
 
 Recalled thus to a realization of the event that the Expo- 
 sition celebrates, and remembering that among the features of 
 the naval pageant recently held in New York Harbor were 
 models of the caravel Santa Maria, and her consorts Pinta 
 and Nina, the fleet with which Columbus crossed the Atlantic, 
 you search among the many curious and incongruous vessels 
 anchored or drifting in the harbor for these copies of the 
 Spanish cruisers of 1492, -to find them, it is likely, appropri- 
 ately moored under the shadow of the convent walls. 
 
 And now a steamboat, crowded to the guards, is being made 
 fast to the pier ; a throng of visitors rushes down the gang-plank 
 and you join in the procession that hurries shoreward. Thus far 
 you have got a very general idea of the Exposition — a notion 
 merely of some of the greater buildings and their location. The 
 picture was beautiful, but it was, to a certain extent, misleading. 
 You have not as yet seen a tithe of the whole show, and what 
 you have seen has been dwarfed by the distance from which you 
 viewed it. Once on shore you turn to your left, pass between 
 the restaurant building, that you saw from the pier, and the con- 
 vent building, in which are no end of relics of the Spanish dis- 
 coverer, and mounting a stairway to the elevated railroad and 
 moving sidewalk, take passage upon the latter for a tour of the 
 grounds. The moving sidewalk, which at an elevation traverses 
 the length and breadth of the Jackson Park portion of the Expo- 
 sition, is an exhibit of the cable-car companies of the city, the 
 motive power being an endless cable worked by powerful engines. 
 A moving platform or sidewalk is running at the rate of three 
 miles an hour, and adjoining this, so that you may without dan- 
 ger step from the one to the other, is a similar platform furnished 
 with a succession of benches and making a speed of six miles an 
 hour. Seated on one of these benches you are now passing 
 between the Agricultural Annex, with its overflow exhibits of 
 agricultural machinery, and the Forestry Building, devoted to 
 
83 
 
 the purpose which its name 
 indicates. On your left are 
 the extensive Hve stock sheds 
 covering no less than forty 
 acres, and on your right, as 
 you circle around the south- 
 ern end of the grounds prop- 
 er, running now side by side 
 with a fast flying train of the 
 electrical elevated railroad, 
 is the circular inclosure used 
 for a cattle exhibit and con- 
 necting with the colonnade 
 that joins the Agricultural 
 Building with Machinery 
 Hall. Now you skirt the rear 
 of this latter-named building 
 with its boiler-houses and 
 steam -generating plant, dart 
 in between it and its chief 
 annex on the west, and are 
 carried over the sheds into 
 which run the tracks of the 
 score or more of railroads 
 having a terminus at the 
 grounds. 
 
 The view on your right, 
 with the Administration 
 Building directly before you, 
 and the Grand Avenue with 
 its splendid facades stretch- 
 ing away on either side of 
 the grand canal to the lake, 
 
84 
 
 is one of the most beautiful prospects afforded by the trip, and 
 gives you a very much more adequate idea of this the chief 
 point of the Exposition than was afforded by the view you had of 
 it in the opposite direction. 
 
 Curving to the westward at the southwest corner of the 
 Mines and Mining Building you pass the southern end of the 
 richly-colored Transportation Building, decorated in gold, yel- 
 low, and red, the national colors of Spain, in commemoration of 
 the fact that it was that country that provided the first means 
 of transport to the New World. You traverse the western 
 front of this structure, and then at a little distance pass Hor- 
 ticultural Hall, with its rose-tinted walls and its dome of glint- 
 ing glass. The smaller building, which next appears on your 
 right, looking for all the world like, a Pompeiian palace, its 
 marble-like sides a warm ivory, deepening into orange, and its 
 roof a brilliant red, is that devoted to woman's work, while 
 off to your left, along what is called the Midway Plaisance, you 
 see the quaint towers, arches, and minarets of a group of struct- 
 ures distinctively foreign — the bazaars of all nations and a vari- 
 ous collection of attractions of a semi-private character. 
 
 Approaching now the northern end of the Fair grounds you 
 pass in rapid succession the pavilions of some of the Western 
 States and Territories, and turning eastward once again find 
 still more of these architecturally-ornamented State reservations. 
 For some distance you follow the Lake Shore southward, flit 
 by one of the annexes of the Art Gallery, getting a glimpse of 
 the turquoise dome of the Art Palace itself, and alight, finally, 
 between the Aztec temple, erected by the Republic of Mexico, 
 and one of the arms of the lagoon system, having traveled about 
 three miles from your starting point. 
 
 In order to get an idea now of the water-ways of the grounds 
 you descend a broad sweep of stone steps between flower-gar- 
 nished terraces to a spacious landing stage, where you engage one 
 
«5 
 
 of the many rapid-moving electric launches to convey you through 
 the lagoons and canals to the great basin. Comfortably reclining 
 on a cushioned seat in the stern, and shielded from the sun's rays 
 by an ample awning, you float swiftly over the surface of the 
 clear, sparkling waters, passing dozens of boats like your own, 
 sombre-looking gondolas propelled by Venetian-like gondoliers, 
 row-boats, steam launches, and canoes, all filled with jolly, glee- 
 ful folk like yourself, out for a holiday and apparently enjoying 
 every moment to the full. The terraced shores, too, are crowded 
 with sight-seers, and there on the wide plateau to your left are the 
 encamped soldiers indulging in a grand review by the com- 
 mander-in-chief of the army, and in the presence of thousands 
 of spectators. Now you glide between the Government Building 
 on one hand and the Fisheries Building on the other, and shoot- 
 ing beneath the wide span of a picturesque bridge find yourself 
 on the principal lagoon to the east of a beautiful wooded island, 
 from whose fertile soil rises specimens of a thousand trees in- 
 digenous to the United States, richly blooming azalias, gorgeous 
 rhododendrons, and scores of other flowering and decorative 
 shrubs ; aquatic fowls of every clime are swimming about you, 
 darting her& and there, or taking wing and flying off to the ver- 
 dant shores of the leafy isle, and your sportsman's instincts assert 
 themselves only to be vigorously repressed as a flock of fat wid- 
 geon get up in front of your boat and circle oft" into one of the 
 less frequented bays. A little farther on you see a white sea-gull, 
 and before you have passed half the length of the Liberal Arts 
 structure, along whose western side you are now skimming, your 
 watchful gaze has been rewarded with sight of several swans, a 
 brown pelican, a stork, a couple of scarlet ibes, and a flamingo. 
 The Main Building is still shutting off your view lakeward even 
 after you have shot under another bridge and have come in sight 
 of the Electrical Building on your left, and it continues to do so 
 until at length you float out into the Grand Canal. 
 
86 
 
 Your landing is made in front of the Main Building's southern 
 facade, and as you join the crowd ascending the broad flight of 
 snowy steps to the grand avenue you realize for the first time 
 the grandeur of this mammoth palace. In coloring it has the 
 tone of old alabaster, the surface of which has begun to disinte- 
 grate, and so closely does the "staff" or stucco, of which its 
 panels and columns are composed, resemble this material that 
 you can scarcely believe it a less substantial imitation. About 
 the great arched middle entrance you observe a wealth of sculp- 
 tured adornment, in which female figures symbolical of the vari- 
 ous arts and sciences play a conspicuous and attractive part ; 
 while medallions representative of the arms and seals of the sev- 
 eral States, and of foreign nations as well, find employment in 
 ornamenting both architrave and spandrel. Once inside the 
 building you are still further impressed by its vastness, and you 
 are not surprised to learn that to make a complete circuit of it 
 means to travel a full mile, and that so high is its great arched 
 roof that the entire Auditorium Building, of which Chicago is so 
 justly proud, tower and all, could be wheeled beneath it. You 
 observe that above a certain point no attempt has been made to 
 decorate the space overhead, save to paint it a light tone that at 
 night reflects the electric light ; but the long lines of gallery fronts 
 have been treated with a good deal of modeled work sufficiently 
 strong in color to give animation, while broad gold and colored 
 bands ornament the lower portion of the roof There are three 
 side-galleries, you discover, inclosing the great central gallery, 
 while between the enormous girders of the central roof other gal- 
 leries have been placed twenty-five feet above the ground and 
 projecting into the hall, from which you get a general view of the 
 immense array of exhibits and the busy scene on the floor below. 
 
 But it is not merely a general view that you desire, and so 
 descending to the fifty-foot wide avenue, that has been named 
 "Columbia," and that extends through the entire length of the 
 
87 
 
 building, you begin an examination of the million interesting ob- 
 jects there on exhibition. Passing from the section set apart for 
 one nation to that of another, and from one group of exhibits to 
 an entirely different group, you soon find yourself experiencing a 
 veritable night-mare, in which paints and varnishes, type-writers 
 and stationery, upholstery goods and wall papers, tiles and pot- 
 tery, metal work and stained glass, gold and silver ware, watches 
 and clocks, silks and woolens, furs and laces, rubber goods and 
 leather goods, cook stoves and refrigerators, iron gates and cut- 
 lery, are jumbled in inextricable confusion. 
 
 Now you dart off into the department set aside for the Lib- 
 eral Arts, including education, literature,' engineering, music, and 
 the drama, and find reHef for the time being from the embarras- 
 sing richness of the manufactures. But the most interesting dis- 
 play within this mammoth inclosure you have yet to see, and 
 that is the Ethnological Museum, which is in charge of Pro- 
 fessor F. W. Putnam, of Harvard College. 
 
 The most important part of the collection, you observe, refers 
 to North and South America. Commencing with the earliest 
 traces of the existence of man in the Northern Hemisphere, illus- 
 trations are shown of the geology, the flora, and the fauna of 
 the period, the latter including actual specimens of the mammoth 
 and the mastodon. Here, too, you see models of the great 
 earth-works in Ohio, in which are combined squares, octagons, 
 circles, and other figures, and, what particularly interests you, 
 the massive skeleton of a man encased in copper armor, the head 
 covered by an o\'al-shaped copper cap, and the neck encircled 
 by a necklace of bears' teeth set with pearls, together with a sim- 
 ilar female skeleton. These, you learn, were recently discovered 
 in one of the Ohio mounds fourteen feet below the surface of the 
 earth, and are generally supposed to be the skeletons of the 
 King and Queen of the Mound Builders, and to ha\e been 
 buried fully six hundred years ago. 
 
88 
 
 Another class of exhibits in this same collection includes the 
 ancient cliff houses and ruined pueblos of Colorado, Arizona, 
 and New Mexico ; models of the existing pueblos, such as those 
 of Moki and Zuni, which appear to form a direct link with the 
 past races ; and reproductions of some portion of those great 
 stone buildings in Central America, Mexico, and Peru of which 
 there is but little knowledge. Here, too, you see many groups 
 of natives from different tribes not only of North and South 
 America, but from Europe, Asia, and Africa as well, including 
 several pygmies from the land of Tippu-Tib, living in their own 
 huts and engaged in their own special industries. A number of 
 these little colonies, however, you find not in the main building 
 at all, but outside in the open air, some of the principal ones being 
 a part of the Indian Bureau exhibit, and consequently located 
 near the Government Building. Here the Navajos are weaving 
 blankets, the Zunis, dwelling in what they call a "hogan," are 
 making pottery, while the Piutes are fashioning water-bottles out 
 of rushes. 
 
 On your return journey through this tremendous store-house 
 of manufactures and liberal art works you discover many things 
 that you overlooked in your scurry northward, stopping perhaps 
 to inspect with some degree of care the exhibit of a Kansas tax- 
 idermist, which includes one hundred and fifty of the largest 
 animals of the United States — buffalo, elk, moose, antelope, deer, 
 mountain sheep, goats, wild cats, wolves, and bear — or the 
 American Sportsman's Exhibit, comprising every weapon and 
 utensil used in hunting, fishing, and trapping from the time the 
 country was discovered to the present day. 
 
 Then, coming out at the southeastern corner beneath another 
 of the buildings' elaborately ornamented archways, you pass 
 along the colonnade that bridges the great basin, and approach 
 the Agricultural Building, getting as you go an excellent view of 
 this single-story structvu-e, with its imposing main entrance be- 
 
tween colossal Ionic columns, its statuary-ornamented roof, its 
 mammoth glass dome in the centre, and its lesser domes at the 
 corners, each surmounted by three female figures of herculean pro- 
 portions supporting an enormous globe. The tremendous struct- 
 ure you have just left covers thirty and a half acres, and the one 
 you are now about to enter seems small in comparison with its 
 nine acres only of floor space. Passing in at the main portal, 
 which is designed as a temple to Ceres, with a statue of the god- 
 dess in the centre, rising from a mosaic floor of black and white 
 to indicate the Ionic character of the building, and surrounded by 
 a lofty colonnade and domed roof all richly expressed in gold and 
 color, you find yourself in one of a large number of small galler- 
 ies that surround the central rotunda, which is one hundred feet 
 in diameter and one hundred and thirty feet high. 
 
 Every inch of ground space, outside the wide avenues and the 
 arcade which runs all the way around the building, is devoted to 
 exhibits of a somewhat prosaic character. Here, for example, 
 you travel in and out among great piles of biscuits, cakes, and 
 crackers, and a little farther on come upon pyramids of cans of 
 preserved fruits and meats, while a large portion of the building, 
 you soon discover, is taken up with farming tools, implements, 
 and machinery. These have, it is true, been grouped and ar- 
 ranged with an eye for picturesque effect, but unless you are 
 especially interested in the subject you are willing to make your 
 stay in the agricultural palace a brief one. As a consequence, 
 you grasp as well as you can its chief architectiu-al features, and 
 then make your escape by way of the colonnade which connects 
 its southwestern extremity with Machinery Hall, stopping en 
 route to visit the live stock Assembly Hall, which is just south 
 of the colonnade. Here on the first floor is the Bureau of Infor- 
 mation and the offices of scores of cattle and horse associations, 
 dog and pet stock associations, and other live stock organiza- 
 tions ; while on the floor above is an assembly hall in which you 
 
go 
 
 find a body of grangers listening to an address on some topic 
 connected with their field of work. 
 
 If you are particularly interested in agriculture you will be 
 interested in forestry and dairy products as well, and will turn 
 eastward instead of westward, and visit the buildings de\'Oted to 
 these purposes, which lie between the Agricultural Annex and 
 the lake ; and you will stop for an hour or two, perhaps, also to 
 look at the live stock display — the horses, the cattle, the swine, 
 and the sheep that will be found beneath the sheds to the south 
 of the other structures. 
 
 Whether you care for these things or not, however, you will 
 surely drop in at this quaintly picturesque Spanish house that 
 overlooks the lake, and that you now recognize as the copy of 
 the Convent of La Rabida that you saw first from the pier, and 
 afterwards as you passed up to the elevated moving sidewalk. 
 Inside you find a store-house of relics. Beginning with maps, 
 models, and facsimiles illustrating the condition of navigation 
 and the knowledge of geography before and during the time of 
 Columbus, there is likewise exhibited a statue of Leif Erikson, 
 together with maps and charts of his alleged voyages, and the 
 settlement that it is claimed he made in Greenland years be- 
 fore Columbus sighted the West Indies. The Norse ships of this 
 period are also shown by means of models, as well as a fine 
 collection of old navigating and other nautical instruments. 
 In another room you discover the life history of Columbus, 
 illustrated by views of the various cities that claim him as 
 their son, models of the houses in which he was supposed to 
 have been born ; photographs of the University of Pavia, where 
 he was educated, &c. , &c. In still another room you come 
 across an extensive picture gallery, including all the paintings, 
 either originals or copies, in which Columbus figures, while in 
 yet another apartment are the portraits, busts, and statues of 
 Columbus. 
 
91 
 
 Machinery Hall, which you next visit, presents but a poor 
 prospect from the south, and so you approach it by way of the 
 Grand Avenue, crossing the bridge between it and Machinery 
 Hall, and getting an excellent prospective from its northeast cor- 
 ner. Though lacking the boldness that makes of the Adminis- 
 tration Building the architectural chef-d'ceuvre of the Exposition, 
 this edifice impresses you as more artistically pleasing than 
 either its gigantic neighbor devoted to manufactures and the lib- 
 eral arts, or its equal-sized sister across the lagoon devoted to 
 agriculture. In its details it suggests sunny Seville, though the 
 general character of the architecture, like that of the other build- 
 ings fronting on the Grand Avenue, is thoroughly classic. Com- 
 posed of three long arch-roofed compartments, similar to train- 
 sheds — the idea being to dispose of them at the close of the 
 Exposition for that purpose — the ornamentation is devoted en- 
 tirely to the exterior, which is rich with columns and arches open- 
 ing to an inner arcade, domed and turreted corner pavilions and 
 statue-adorned towers rising from either side of the imposing 
 porticos that form the main entrances. 
 
 Here you see machinery of all kinds in motion. There are 
 motors for the generation and apparatus for the transmission of 
 power ; hydraulic and pneumatic devices ; fire-engines and fire- 
 ladders ; machines for working metals and machines for working- 
 stone ; machines for twisting silk and machines for ^^•eaving fab- 
 rics ; type-setting machines and printing presses ; paper-making 
 machinery ; wood-working machinery ; glass-cutting machinery ; 
 pumps, elevators, and a thousand and one odd patented arrange- 
 ments that you have never so much as dreamed of 
 
 And then, back of all this, in another building — the Machinery 
 Annex — off to the west, covering between four and five acres, is 
 almost as much again of the same sort ; while to the south, con- 
 nected with the main structure, is what is known as the boiler 
 plant, which supplies steam to the great power station wb.ich 
 
92 
 
 occupies a space along the entire south side of this great store- 
 house of mechanism. Here you find engine after engine of all 
 makes and all sizes, from the comparatively small affair of 
 one hundred and fifty horse-power to the enormous machine of 
 one thousand horse-power, aggregating fully twenty-five thou- 
 sand horse-power in all. From this source, you learn, power is 
 furnished not alone to Machinery Hall, but throughout the 
 grounds to the various other buildings, supplying them with 
 light and heat, as well as affording energy for other purposes. 
 It is not steam, though, that is sent through the tunnels, but 
 compressed air, which is used to operate all the machinery in 
 motion. 
 
 The Administration Building, which next claims your attention, 
 is well worth a careful study from without as well as from within. 
 Viewed from the elevation of your moving sidewalk ride about 
 the grounds, the great ovoid dome, two hundred and twenty feet 
 in height, has appeared to you somewhat out of proportion to 
 the underlying foundation, but now as you stand on the pavement 
 of the Grand Avenue and gaze up at it, you realize that a dome 
 of less girth and amplitude would have looked meagre and inef- 
 fectual. The general design of the building, which is two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet square, is, you observe, in the style of the 
 French renaissance. The first great story, of the Doric order, is 
 of heroic proportions, surrounded by a lofty balustrade and having 
 the great tiers of the angle of each of the four pavilions which 
 form its corners crowned with sculpture. The second story, with 
 its lofty and spacious colonnade, is of the Ionic order. The de- 
 sign, you notice, has been divided in its height into three princi- 
 pal stages. The first, consisting of the four pavilions, correspond- 
 ing in height with the various buildings grouped about it, which 
 are about sixty-five feet high ; the second stage of the same height, 
 a continuation of the central rotunda ; and the third stage, the 
 base of the great dome, thirty feet in height and octagonal in 
 
93 
 
 form, and the great dome itself, which is over one-third the 
 height of the entire structure. 
 
 On the panels of the first story are inscriptions detailing facts 
 in the life of Columbus, and the names of discoverers of conti- 
 nents or portions of continents, and when you have entered by 
 one of the fifty-feet wide, deeply recessed, and semi-circular 
 arched portals, you find upon the interior still more inscriptions 
 recording important discoveries in science and the names of the 
 discoverers. 
 
 The interior features of the building approach, if they do not 
 exceed, in beauty and splendor those of the exterior. Between 
 every two of the grand entrances and connecting the intervening 
 pavilion with the great rotunda you find a hall or loggia thirty 
 feet square giving access to the offices, and provided with broad 
 circular stairways and swift-running elevators. In one pavilion 
 are located the Fire and Police Departments, with cells for the de- 
 tention of prisoners ; in another, the offices of the Ambulance 
 Service, the physicians and pharmacy, the Foreign Department, 
 and the Information Bureau ; in the third, the post-office and a 
 bank, and in the fourth the offices of Public Comfort and a res- 
 taurant. On the upper floors of the pavilions are the board- 
 rooms, the committee-rooms, the rooms of the Director-General, 
 the Department of Publicity and Promotion, and of the United 
 States Columbian Commission. 
 
 Inquiry here gives you a fund of information concerning the 
 Exposition that you have hitherto failed to acquire, and which is, 
 now that you are on the grounds, of more than passing interest. 
 Briefly stated, you learn, for example, that the total cost of the 
 Exposition is something like $17,500,000. Of this amount Chi- 
 cago citizens subscribed $6,000,000 ; the Illinois Legislature 
 authorized the city to issue bonds for $5,000,000 more ; and the 
 United States Government contributed $1,500,000 and loaned 
 $5,000,000. In addition to this, of course, each State, the same 
 
94 
 
 as each foreign country, appropriated a certain sum to provide for 
 its own particular exhibit. 
 
 Here, too, you get information as to the dimensions and cost 
 
 of the various buildings, in all probability in tabulated form 
 something like this : — 
 
 Buildings. Feet. Acres. Cost. 
 
 Manufactures 787 by 1687 30.5 |i, 000,000 
 
 Agriculture 500 800 9.2 \ r.Q 000 
 
 Annex ....... 32S 500 3.8 i 
 
 Machinery 500 800 9.8^ 
 
 Power-house 80 600 ^-^ f 1,200,000 
 
 Annexes 490 551 6. 2 J 
 
 Assembly Hall 450 500 5.2 200,000 
 
 Mines and Mining 350 700 5.6 250,000 
 
 Electricity 345 700 5.5 365,000 
 
 Administration 260 260 1.6 450,000 
 
 Transportation 250 960 5.5 280,000 
 
 Horticulture 250 1000 5.8 300,000 
 
 Women's .... 200 400 1.8 120,000 
 
 United States Guveninient 350 420 3.4 400,000 
 
 Navy Battle-sliip 248 69 2.0 100,000 
 
 Fisheries 163 36s i.ol 
 
 . f r. r 200,000 
 
 Anne.xes . 135 diameter. 0.8 i 
 
 Fine Arts 320 by 500 3-71 
 
 Annexes 123 200 i.i J 
 
 Forestry 200 500 2.3 100,000 
 
 Saw-mill 125 300 0.9 35, 000 
 
 Dairy 95 200 0.5 30,000 
 
 Livestock 5^ t,xo i.^l 
 
 , • r. , ^., , 00 00 J ^ 150,000 
 
 Live Stock Sheds 40.0 J 
 
 Music Hall 140 200 0.7 100,000 
 
 Restaurant 140 200 0.7 100,000 
 
 16,430,000 
 
 Armed with this array of tigures you stop for an inspection of 
 the under side of the dome, which you discover is enriched with 
 deep panelings filled in with sculpture in low relief and enormous 
 
95 
 
 paintings, representing the arts and sciences, and then you de- 
 scend to teri^a firma once more, and passing out by the northern 
 archway, find yourself between the Mines and Mining and the 
 Electrical Buildings. You choose the latter for your next visit, 
 
 and, as is your habit, halt a moment 
 
 before entering to take in at a glance 
 some of its chief architectural features. 
 What impresses you most for- 
 cibly is the portico and colon- 
 
 ROUNDING A MOUNTAIN ON THE PENNSYLVANIA RAlLRoAb. 
 
 nade that extend the whole width of the building on each side 
 of the monumental main entrance, o\er which latter are in- 
 scribed a series of names famous in the annals of electrical 
 science, and in the centre of which, upon a lofty pedestal, is 
 
96 
 
 a colossal statue of Benjamin F"ranklin, whose illustrious name 
 connects the early history of the Republic with one of the most 
 important discoveries in the phenomena of electricity. The main 
 tower here, two hundred feet in height, also commands your 
 gaze, as do the shorter and more slender ones on either side. 
 While the walls have the same eburnean appearance as those 
 of the other buildings on the Grand Avenue, you note an extrava- 
 gance of decoration about the entrance that has not been observ- 
 able elsewhere. The columns here, for instance, are of porphyry, 
 and everywhere are great masses of gilt modeled work in relief, 
 the object being, you learn, to afford as brilliant an effect as pos- 
 sible by night, when the whole structure is fairly ablaze with 
 electric light. 
 
 The interior, which, after dark, must be dazzling in its brill- 
 iancy, contains nevertheless by daylight many exhibits of rare 
 interest, and you spend hours here among the wonders which 
 every step unfolds. The space set apart for and occupied by 
 the inventions of the Wizard Edison is especially rich in mar-, 
 vels ; and you can readily belie\'e that the inventor has made 
 this display the greatest achievement of his life. What you see 
 is not only practical, but the effects are spectacular and novel 
 as well. 
 
 In the decorations of the chief entrance to the Mines and 
 Mining Building, gold, silver, and black are freely used as emble- 
 matical of mineral products. Sculptures symbolical of the char- 
 acter of the exhibits within are also prominent, and you observe 
 that the general style of the building's architecture suggests the 
 early Italian renai.s.sance, somewhat freely treated. Here, too, 
 are the inevitable corner pavilions with their low domes and their 
 waving banners ; and here, too, you find the usual arcade open- 
 ing upon a loggia on the ground floor and wide gallery above. 
 You are impressed somewhat by the marble facings of the loggia, 
 of various kinds and hues, and then }'ou realize that these are 
 
97 
 
 exhibits, and will probably have a good market value after the 
 close of the Exposition. 
 
 So rich is the United States in natural mineral resources of 
 almost every kind, and so large and varied are its requirements, 
 that you are not surprised to find on the floor of this structure, 
 and in the United States section, an exceedingly extensive display 
 of all varieties of raw mineral products ; of metals obtained from 
 the ores, manufactured metals, mining and metallurgical machin- 
 ery, and, indeed, everything that serves to illustrate the vast 
 industries of mining and of metallurgy. 
 
 You discover that the subject of coal has been treated in very 
 broad lines, the exhibit in this respect being qualitative rather 
 than quantitative. Here are the different varieties, produced at 
 different localities, together with the chemical analysis of each, 
 and the results of tests determining their economic value and 
 adaptability to various purposes. The iron exhibit, too, is 
 arranged with full appreciation of the magnitude and impor- 
 tance of the iron industry ; and the process of extracting the 
 precious metals is demonstrated in the most thorough manner. 
 One of the most interesting displays is a collection of the im- 
 plements used by the pioneers who went to California in 1849, 
 at the outbreak of the gold fever there, including an old "pla- 
 cer ' ' plant in complete operation. Nor is this all. A little far- 
 ther on you come upon the shafts of a coal mine, and are told 
 that here is a full-sized model showing how coal is mined in 
 Pennsylvania ; while not far away is a similar model of an iron 
 mine, with all the mining paraphernalia in full view. 
 
 The view from the northern end of the Mines and Mining 
 Building, looking across the archipelago of small islands to the 
 larger wooded island beyond, is in striking contrast with the 
 scene you have just left, and you stand for some minutes enjoy- 
 ing the sylvan prospect before turning to your left and entering 
 the golden portal of the Transportation Building, which here 
 
98 
 
 stretches its length of nine hundred and sixty feet along the 
 western edge of the Jackson Park site. Romanesque in gen- 
 eral style, it, nevertheless, in some particulars — the manner in 
 which it is designed on axial lines, the solicitude shown for fine 
 proportions, and the subtle relation of parts to each other — 
 suggests the methods of composition followed at the Ecole des 
 Beaux Arts. The golden door, through an immense single arch, 
 enriched to an extraordinary degree with carvings, has reliefs, 
 and several paintings, chief among which is a modeled represen- 
 tation of the passenger train par excellence of the world — the 
 Pennsylvania Limited — which has a place directly over the en- 
 trance, is the keynote of the eastern front, and the remainder 
 of the architectural composition falls into a just relation of con- 
 trast with it, consisting of a continuous arcade, with subordi- 
 nated colonnade and entablature. There are, too, you see, 
 numerous minor entrances, grouped about which are terraces 
 sloping to the water's edge, picturesque seats, convenient drink- 
 ing fountains, and beautiful statuary, all of which, taken with 
 the red and yellow and gold of the exterior decorations, the 
 blue-green of the lagoon, and the rich foliage and flowers of the 
 island opposite, compose a picture more rich in color than is to 
 be found anywhere else on the grounds. 
 
 The interior of the building reveals a treatment similar to that 
 of a Roman basilica, with broad nave and aisles. The roof is in 
 three divisions, the middle one rising much higher than the 
 others, and with its walls pierced to form a beautiful arcade 
 clere-story. To the cupola, which is in the exact centre of the 
 building, you may ascend by any one of eight elevators, them- 
 selves exhibits, and from the height of one hundred and sixty- 
 five feet get a view of the park and its ornaments entirely differ- 
 ent from any you have yet had. 
 
 In the way of exhibits, you find about every object that will 
 illustrate the work of transportation, whether by land, water, or 
 
99 
 
 air ; and observe that the collection has been given a historic 
 as well as practical interest by the introduction of examples of 
 the earliest and crudest forms of transportation appliances from 
 all parts of the world. Off from the northwest corner of the 
 Transportation Building proper you stray into what is called the 
 Service Building, an annex covering nine acres, wherein you dis- 
 cover a stupendous array of railway trains, including engines 
 and cars. At least a hundred locomotives are facing the central 
 avenue, and the perspective is fine beyond description. 
 
 The rose-tinted Horticultural Building, with its crystal domes 
 and roofs, and its many windows of flashing glass, reflecting its 
 own showy banners and the trees and flowers of its neighboring 
 island, lies directly to the north of you — a great conservatory 
 a thousand feet in length and with a maximum width of two 
 hundred and eighty-seven feet, surrounded by grounds laid out 
 in the most elaborate manner known to the art of the landscape 
 gardener. Grounds garnished with fountains and statuary, huge 
 vases containing flowers in bloom, tanks in which grow the 
 Egyptian lotus and other specimens of nympheas, all sloping 
 to a low parapet that rises above a spacious landing stage on 
 the shore of the lagoon. 
 
 Once inside the building you traverse a long court, beauti- 
 fully decorated in color and planted with ornamental shrubs 
 and flowers ; stand spell-bound beneath the central dome, into 
 which mount enormously tall palms, bamboos, tree ferns, cacti, 
 and eucalyptus, or climb to the galleries, and in one of the cafes 
 there situated partake of a luncheon to the music of splashing 
 fountains and surrounded by the sweet odors of many flowers. 
 
 The courts facing the wooded island, you note, are devoted 
 especially to tender plants, while in the rear courts are the 
 fruit-growing exhibits that require a cooler temperature. Here 
 you find a large section given over exclusively to the exhibi- 
 tion of orange culture in California and Florida, while a most 
 
lOO 
 
 interesting exhibit, not far away, consists of the dwarf fruit and 
 other trees of Japan, over a century old and not more than 
 two feet high. 
 
 A few steps north of the Horticultural Building you come 
 upon the red-roofed structure devoted to woman's work — de- 
 signed by a woman and crowded with the results of woman's 
 handicraft. Its style is the Italian renaissance, and it covers a 
 space of two hundred by four hundred feet. It is encompassed 
 by luxuriant shrubs and beds of fragrant flowers, and stands 
 like a white silhouette against a background of verdant leaf- 
 age. In front of it the lagoon takes the form of a bay about 
 four hundred feet in width. From the middle of this bay a 
 grand landing and stair-case leads to a terrace six feet above 
 the water. Crossing this terrace, other stair-ways give access 
 to the ground, four feet above, on which, at about one hun- 
 dred feet back, the building is situated. 
 
 You enter a lobby, forty feet wide, which leads into a rotunda 
 open to the roof, protected by a richly-ornamented skylight, and 
 surrounded by a two-story open arcade, the effect being that of 
 an Italian court-yard, of delicate and chaste design. On the left 
 of the main entrance is a thoroughly equipped hospital, with 
 women physicians and trained nurses, prepared to handle the 
 gravest cases of accident or illness, and, adjoining this, a room 
 filled with couches and hospital beds— a branch of the Depart- 
 ment of Public Comfort — for such cases of indisposition as do 
 not require serious or regular medical attention. Oji your right, 
 as you enter the building, is a model kindergarten, with all the 
 latest improvements for the education of the infant mind. In the 
 south pavilion you find what is described as the ' ' Retrospective 
 Exhibit," and in the north pavilion everything that relates to re- 
 form work and charity organization. 
 
 Upstairs, in the second story, are the ladies' parlors, commit- 
 tee-rooms, and dressing-rooms, all leading to the open balcony 
 
in front. Adjoining these on one side is a great assembly room, 
 while on the other are located a model kitchen and refreshment 
 rooms. Above this floor, open to the air and surrounded by a 
 supplementary colonnade, are the hanging gardens, which give 
 to the building, from the outside, somewhat the appearance of a 
 Pompeiian villa. 
 
 Having given yourself a thorough idea of the work of which 
 woman is capable, you proceed to an inspection of the largest of 
 the individual State buildings on the grounds, that of Illinois, 
 which lies a little to the north on a piece of land surrounded on 
 three sides by the waters of the system of lagoons. In size it is 
 four hundred by one hundred and sixty feet, and in style severely 
 classic, with a dome in the centre and a great porch facing south- 
 ward. The interior, save for a space at one end reserved for a 
 model school-house, is an unbroken rectangular hall, crowded 
 with exhibits of the States' products and specialties. Now, for a 
 time, you stroll about among the pavilions of the various States 
 and Territories which are grouped in this part of the grounds, 
 and which in their varied architectural features present a strong 
 contrast to the larger structures at the southern end of the park, 
 which, as you have observed, all bear a family resemblance. 
 Wisconsin's building, for example, which you pass soon after 
 leaving the Illinois building, is merely a Queen Anne cottage, 
 three stories in height ; while on the space allotted to Florida, 
 near the northern extremity of the grounds, is a full-sized re- 
 production of old Fort Marion, which was built at St. Augus- 
 tine in 1620, and which is believed to be the oldest building in 
 the United States. This structure, you conclude, is well worth 
 inspection. It is, you learn, made of frame, but being covered 
 with the phosphate rock of Florida it has the appearance of 
 stone. Surrounding the fort is a moat, part of which is ar- 
 ranged as a sunken garden, in which you see growing the tropical 
 plants of the State — the pine-apple, banana, rice, sugar cane, 
 
oranges, &c. , while in another portion, filled with water, you get 
 a glimpse of several alligators and crocodiles. The buildings of 
 New York and Pennsylvania are, as a matter of course, some- 
 what pretentious, but a number of the smaller States, you note, 
 have contented themselves with French chateaus, Swiss chalets, 
 and a dozen and one other all too common forms of construction. 
 
 Now the pure Grecian Ionic architecture of the Fine Arts 
 Building comes before you as a relief from the conglomerate col- 
 lection of styles through which you have just passed. Its cool, 
 light-gray walls and its brilliant blue dome, standing out from 
 among groups of statues — replica ornaments of classic art — which 
 adorn the grounds, are enhanced in beauty by the contrast, and 
 you approach the structure with all the devotion and reverence 
 that Art should command. Climbing one of the four broad 
 flights of steps that lead to the sculptured portals, you enter a 
 vestibule, the walls of which are adorned with paintings illus- 
 trating the history and progress of the arts. These you find 
 extend also through the nave which runs the length of the build- 
 ing, and through the transept which divides the rectangle into 
 four large galleries. In these passage-ways, too, are the exhibits 
 of statuary and other sculpture. The four large galleries, and 
 several smaller courts off from these, are devoted entirely to 
 paintings — one of the larger courts being filled with the United 
 States' art exhibit ; another with the pictures of English artists ; 
 the third with German art works ; and the fourth with the magnif- 
 icent display made by the Republic of France. When you have 
 exhausted the pictures in which this building abounds you visit 
 the annexes that are located to the east and the west, where you 
 find an additional display of canvasses, water-colors, etchings, 
 engravings, and architectural drawings gathered from the four 
 corners of the globe. 
 
 Between these art palaces, which, in view of their valuable 
 contents, are the most substantially built of all the Exposition 
 
I03 
 
 edifices, and the Fisheries 
 Building, located about a 
 thousand feet in a straight 
 line to the south, are to be 
 seen some of the principal 
 foreign buildings, including 
 those of Great Britain, Ger- 
 many, France, Italy, Russia, 
 Spain, Mexico, and some of 
 the South American Repub- 
 lics. Here you find the fine 
 old-looking English manor 
 house — is it Hatfield or Sand- 
 ringham ? — with its spacious 
 armor-hung hall and its mod- 
 el garden. Here also are an 
 ancient - appearing German 
 castle ; an A^tec temple, such 
 as one sees in various parts 
 of Mexico ; and, on the plot 
 assigned to Ecuador, a repro- 
 duction of the Incas' " Tem- 
 ple of the Sun," that you re- 
 member to have seen at the 
 Paris Exposition of 1889. 
 
 The Fisheries Building, 
 which you now visit, is a 
 somewhat ornate affair in the 
 Spanish-Romanesque style, 
 colored in imitation of the 
 Cordova Cathedral, the ar- 
 chivalts being picked out in 
 red blocks on a dull buff" 
 
I04 
 
 ground, and the roofs appropriately painted a marine blue. In 
 the centre of the main building is located a large basin or pool, 
 from which rises a towering mass of rocks, covered with moss 
 and lichens, and from the crevices of which gush crystal streams 
 of water which drop to the reeds, rushes, and ornamental semi- 
 aquatic plants in the basin below. Here gorgeous golden ides, 
 golden trench, and other golden fishes disport themselves. From 
 this point, too, you get a view of one side of the larger series 
 of aquaria, ten in number, and having a capacity of from seven 
 thousand to twenty-seven thousand gallons of water each. Here, 
 also, are numerous cases containing models of fish of all kinds 
 and from every clime. Passing out of the rotunda you reach a 
 great corridor or arcade, where on one hand you view the oppo- 
 site side of the series of great tanks, and on the other a line of 
 tanks somewhat smaller, ranging in capacity from seven hundred 
 and fifty to fifteen hundred gallons, making together a panorama 
 that rivals that to be seen in any great permanent aquarium of 
 the world. Part of these large tanks you notice are under 
 ground, and as you stand watching you see rise up from the 
 bottom an enormous shark, sword-fish, or some other mighty 
 denizen of the deep. In the annex on the other side of the ro- 
 tunda you find an angling exhibit, including all sorts of fishing 
 paraphernalia, comprising rods, reels, nets, boats, &c. In this 
 structure, too, are shown the methods of fish hatching and fish 
 cultivation. 
 
 Crossing the bay which skirts the Fisheries Building on the 
 south the United States Government Building and grounds lie 
 directly before you. The structure, you observe, is large and 
 imposing, but by no means overburdened with ornaments. Rect- 
 angular in plan, its centre is surmounted by an eight-sided dome, 
 from which flies the Stars and Stripes of the Union, and its main 
 entrance is beneath an heroic, sculpture-crowned arch of the tri- 
 umphal order. Entering here you find yourself in the midst of 
 
I05 
 
 a most interesting display. In the northern half are the exhibits 
 of the Fisheries Commission, the Smithsonian Institute, and the 
 Interior Department, while in the southern half you discover the 
 exhibits of the Post-Office Department, Treasury Department, 
 War Department, and Department of Agriculture. The United 
 States Mint authorities show not only a complete collection of 
 the coins of the United States, but a very excellent collection 
 of the coins of foreign countries as well ; the Supervising Arch- 
 itect of the Treasury shows a number of photographs of the 
 public buildings and parks at Washington, the Bureau of En- 
 graving and Printing displays a complete collection of the paper 
 money of the United States, and the Quartermaster's Depart- 
 ment exhibits lay-figure officers and men of all grades in the 
 army, mounted and on foot, and fully equipped in the uniforms 
 of their rank and service. In this same section you see nineteen 
 figures showing the uniforms worn during the Revolutionary War 
 and the War of 1812, and thirty-one figures showing the uni- 
 forms worn in the Mexican War. Here, also, is an exhibition of 
 how the telephone is used on the battle-field, together with a 
 showing of all the means of army telegraphing and signaling. 
 
 In the Patent Office exhibit you come across a comprehensive 
 array of models illustrating the wonderful progress of mechanical 
 civilization, one group showing the development of the printers' 
 art, from Guttenberg's crude invention to the latest rotary per- 
 fecting and folding printing press, and others demonstrating in 
 similar manner the evolution of the steam engine, sewing ma- 
 chine, &c. 
 
 On the grounds of the Government Building, which are quite 
 extensive, you find, aside from the army encampment and the 
 exhibit of the Ordnance Department — consisting of huge guns 
 and explosives — a life-saving station, built and equipped with 
 every appliance, and manned by a crew giving practical exhi- 
 bitions of the work done by this heroic branch of the service. 
 
io6 
 
 But what interests you, probably, most of all is the exhibit here 
 under cover, made by the Coast Survey, of a huge model of the 
 United States, fully four hundred feet square, on a scale showing 
 the exact height of the mountains, the length and depth of the 
 rivers, and the curvature of the earth. This you view from gal- 
 leries built around it, and from elevated pathways over which you 
 travel the length and breadth of the country. 
 
 The Naval exhibit, on board the full-sized model of a coast- 
 line battle-ship, is the next object that claims your attention, and 
 you walk past the snowy tents of the soldiers, the neatly-kept 
 quarters of the life-saving guard, and the frowning guns of the 
 Ordnance Department to the white promenade that borders the 
 lake, where you stop to view at this distance the long white hull 
 with its many port-holes and its belligerent-looking armament, 
 from the midst of which rises its single mast, circled by two tops 
 or balconies, over whose guards are pointing small rapid-firing 
 guns. On the starboard side you see the rigging of the torpedo 
 protection net, stretching the entire length of the vessel, while 
 steam launches and cutters riding at the booms give to the 
 whole all the outward appearance of a real ship of war. That it 
 is not a real ship, but only a model built of brick and concrete on 
 a submerged platform in the lake, is due, you learn, to an old 
 treaty between the United States and Great Britain forbidding 
 either power to have more than one war-ship on the lakes ; and 
 this one, of course, has so much to do that it would be out of all 
 reason to expect it to anchor here for exhibition purposes. 
 
 Aboard the model, which has been named the Illinois, you 
 find that it is not only a war-ship in outward appearance, but in 
 interior fitting as well. A detail of officers, seamen, mechanics, 
 and marines man the vessel, and as you go on board you discover 
 that a torpedo drill is in progress. An inspection of the battery 
 shows you that it comprises four 13-inch breech-loading rifle can- 
 non, eight 8-inch breech-loading rifle cannon, four 6-inch breech- 
 
I07 
 
 loading rifle cannon, twenty 6-pounder rapid-firing guns, six 
 I -pounder rapid-firing guns, two Gatling guns, and six torpedo 
 tubes or torpedo guns. Below are the cabins, state-rooms, lava- 
 tories, latrines, mess-rooms, galleys, lockers, and berthings, giv- 
 ing an admirable idea how the men live on board a man-of-war ; 
 while firom the conning tower above you get a very fair notion of 
 how the commander of such a ship views an engagement in which 
 he has entered and communicates his orders to the different parts 
 of the vessel. As for the traditional naval uniforms from 1775 
 to 1848, you see them upon living models. 
 
 Hailing a small boat from the top of one of the ladders that 
 descend from the deck to the water's edge, you employ the boat- 
 man to convey you, by way of the bays and canals, across the 
 Fair grounds to the Woman's Building again, whence you pro- 
 ceed on foot through the beautiful gardens surrounding this 
 structure to the beginning of that strip of land, six hundred feet 
 in width and a mile long, called the Midway Plaisance, which 
 you find crowded with a congregation of bazaars of all nations. 
 If you were at Paris in 1889 it is sure to remind you of the 
 Rue de Caire, though, as is everything here, it is on a very 
 much larger scale. In order to get a general view of this cos- 
 mopolitan avenue, you decide to begin by riding from one end 
 of it to the other, and accordingly board one of the trains of the 
 sliding water railway that attracted so much attention at the Paris 
 Exposition, and that are said to be capable of making a speed of 
 something like two hundred miles an hour. No such momentum 
 as this, however, is here attempted, but you are carried swiftly 
 and smoothly over the polished rails, and arrive at the other 
 end of the avenue with a confused impression of gorgeous 
 marquees, picturesque kivaks, stately castles, ruined temples, 
 hospitable posadas, gaily-colored theatres, long, cool-looking 
 bungalows, and a host of other structures. Now as you start 
 to walk back you are jostled by types of people from all the 
 
io8 
 
 countries of the earth — the stahvart red Indian, wrapped in his 
 blanket, emotionless as a stone, and concealing his wonder be- 
 neath a stolidity that you admire but cannot equal ; the small, 
 but alert, Japanese, with his loose dress caught up as if it were an 
 obstacle that he would fain dispense with ; the almond-eyed 
 Chinaman, with his braided queue ; the turbaned Turk ; the 
 Egyptian, with his inevitable red fez ; the brilliantly-uniformed 
 attaches of the European commissions ; the cool, white-clothed, 
 and Panama-hatted hidalgo from Mexico or one of the Spanish - 
 peopled countries of South America, and ordinary-looking folk 
 like yourself from here, there, and everywhere. 
 
 Among the more interesting features of this part of the Ex- 
 position, where an extra price of admission is charged, and 
 where, for the first time in your tour of the grounds, you find 
 exhibits for sale as well as for show, you 'note a reproduction on 
 a grand scale of the Tower of London, with its many historic 
 associations, and through which you are shown by a robust 
 Englishman in the costume of a Beef-eater. A little farther on 
 you come across the Guatemala exhibit of one of the palaces of 
 the ruined city of Antigua ; and not far away is the Capitol 
 Building of the United States of Columbia, in miniature. A col- 
 ony of the lace-makers and the gold and silver workers of Para- 
 guay claims your attention for a moment, and then you pass on 
 to where the celebrated Pandure family, from the State of Guad- 
 alajara in Mexico, living in a thorougly Mexican dwelling, are 
 working in clay and modeling figures that would do credit to a 
 master sculptor. 
 
 An East Indian and a Turkish street are here, showing not 
 only the wares peculiar to the country, but the mechanics, arti- 
 sans, and professional entertainers. Here Egypt has reproduced 
 one of Cairo's chief avenues, four hundred feet in length, lined 
 with shops, cafes, dwellings, and amusement halls, and peo- 
 pled with donkey-drivers, Egyptian serving-maids, dancing girls, 
 
I09 
 
 jugglers, merchants, women, and children. Japan, also, has a vil- 
 lage picturing her architecture and scenes from her home-life. 
 China, exhibiting for the first time with the sanction of her govern- 
 ment, presents to your gaze wonders hitherto never seen outside of 
 the Flowery Kingdom, and Persia shows you a street that recalls 
 memories of tales from the Arabian Nights. Beside all this you 
 are confronted on every side by panoramas, captive balloons, 
 fountains of native wines, coal palaces and corn palaces, and, 
 what is by no means the least interesting part of this wonderful 
 section of the Exposition, a portion of a gigantic red-wood tree 
 from California that stood three hundred and ninety feet high, 
 and was twenty-six feet in diameter, now leveled and divided, its 
 trunk hollowed out, and the interior fashioned into full-sized rail- 
 way cars, fitted in the style of Pullman coaches of the latest and 
 most approved design. In one forty-five-foot length you find a 
 sleeping car, with berths closed and berths made-up ; and in an- 
 other a dining car similar to those used on the Pennsyh-ania 
 Railroad, with a kitchen and all its appurtenances. 
 
 Now the day is nearly done, and the tops of the buildings are 
 crimsoned by the setting sun. Far away, down the grounds, the 
 dome of the Administration Palace is a great molten ball of flame, 
 and the glass domes of some of the other structures are dazzling 
 as mammoth gems, glittering with all the prismatic colors. Ten 
 minutes more and the light has paled ; night's black robe is fall- 
 ing, and threatens to envelop everything in its dusky folds, when 
 suddenly, on all sides, from one extreme boundary of the park to 
 the other, a million lights flash into brilliant being, and once more, 
 though the skies be dark above, the avenues and water-ways of the 
 vast inclosure are as luminous as at noonday. Ha^•ing seen the 
 Exposition by daylight, you linger now to see it again in all 
 the spectacular glory of its electrical illumination. You climb, 
 perhaps, to the hanging gardens of the Woman's Pavilion, 
 and from there let your gaze sweep southward over the great 
 
artificially-lighted area, thus getting a bird's-eye view that is well 
 worth your while ; or it is possible that you engage one of those 
 funereal-looking gondolas and drift lazily through the lagoons, 
 whose depths are lighted with electric lamps arranged beneath the 
 waters. A cool breeze from the lake fans your cheeks ; to your 
 ears comes the music of the great orchestra playing some dreamy 
 waltz, and as you loll back on your cushions you see darting here 
 and there through the transparent depths below you curiously - 
 shaped and colored artificial fishes and marine monsters, lighted 
 and propelled by the electric currents. 
 
 You remember that at Paris but three of the buildings were 
 open in the evening. Here every one of the great halls is open 
 and aglow with light. In all but the Fine Arts, the Administra- 
 tion, and the Woman's Building arc lights are employed. In 
 Machinery Hall there are six hundred ; in Agricultural Hall, six 
 hundred ; in the Electric Building, four hundred ; in the Mines 
 and Mining Building, four hundred ; in the Transportation Build- 
 ing, four hundred and fifty ; in Horticultural Hall, four hundred ; 
 in the Forestry Building, one hundred and fifty ; and in the Great 
 Palace of the Liberal Arts, two thousand. Twelve thousand in- 
 candescent lamps light the Fine Arts Building ; ten thousand 
 more are ablaze in the Administration Building ; and in the 
 Woman's Building there are one hundred and eighty arc lights 
 and twenty-seven hundred incandescent lamps. 
 
 When at length you approach the Grand Avenue the scene 
 becomes more and more beautiful. Every window and archway 
 of the great edifices here are sending out broad columns of light, 
 illuminated fountains are throwing aloft their brilliant-hued waters, 
 groups of white statuary stand out in bold and striking outline 
 against the black shadows, and the golden ornaments of the 
 entrances to the several mammoth piles facing the Grand Canal 
 llash and glitter in the flood of dazzling effulgence. 
 
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