The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1863-04-29
Letter from the State Capital.
.ueUsTA, April 2s, s169

To the Editor Of the Press:
Augusta is the finest place in the world.
That is what every one thinks who lives here.
1t is the capital of the State. Its inhabitants,
yearly accustomed to intercourse with the
leading minds from all parts of Maine. have
become polished and refined accordingly.
Having long been fed from the public crib.
for money and money making, are proverb-
tally liberal and ever anxious to Guido their
neighbors in good works. 1t is, as / said, the
capital OF the State, but when Maine, mount
ing on the pinions of destiny, shall soar away
to the British Lion and 'ride upon his defiant
crest in exchange for the wings of the lament
ed. of the fallen and Of the discarded Eagle Of
American liberty" then, clothed with new
hope and new loyalty" Augusta aspires to
become the seat of government of the West
ern British Empire. There is only one serious
reason why this may not occur, and that is
plot which certain restless and disafiected par
ties have set on foot to remove the Stale House
to Portland for City Hall. In that event,
Portland would necessarily become the capt.
tai and the only possible salvation for Angus
ia would be to take Portland harbor to her.
self and ofliciate as the natural seaport of the
Canadas. This change the people of Angus
ia do not desire, and although this scheme
must appear idle to every candid mind, they
seem to regard it as great bugbear as child
rem in the nursery do ogres, Bluebeards or
bugaboos; and it has assumed in their eyes,
the colossal proportions of all the giants of
Cog and Magog combined. The superior ad-
vantages of Augusta, however, must ultimate
ly be acknowledged, and this plot meet the
same fate as that conceived years ago by one
Guy Fawkes, after which the world will move
on in tranquility.
This city is admirably adapted for metrop-
oils by its natural situation as well as by every
other consideration of Importance. 1t is built
upon both banks of the Kennebec river, upon
several continuous hills which rise one above
another, and each being fiat at top, any one,
from whatever part of the town he may be-
can walk up hill or down or upon level, as
suits his fancy. The climate in winter is
snowy, generally interlarded with zeroes on
the thermometers, and ice-water is within
reach of the poorest families. In spring the
weather is muddy and full of dirty water run
ming through the streets in all directions; and
when the dusty temperature of summer comes
on, it frightens the little frolicking street
brooks out of their beds and away they scam
per to the river as fast as their legs can carry
them, never even stopping for their clothes.
Now Spring is upon us. The notes of the
robin mingle tremendously with music Of
frogs, and the swelling buds and balmy air be-
token that we shall soon be surrounded by the
newborn foliage of our forest aud shade trees
and the gorgeous tapestry Of the green-sward
dotted with the gaudy dandelon. Nature
awaking from her annual slumber, is donning
her peerless robes and decking herself with
all the gories of her most elaborate toilet, to
receive in fitting style the return of her favor.
lite and most beautiful daughter, Summer.
HELIos.