Year: 1875

10 not like half-civilized people. like saya-
ges great deal better. L demand that you


shall be either wholly savage or wholly civil


ized, and these people are just now no more


the one than the other. But if things 20 on as


they are now going for year or two longer.


think they will be wild enough to satisfy the


most ferocious and CORY minded man in the


universe. They are building a big wigwam


over yonder on the hill, in the great park, and
they will have such war dance as never was
known before in all the world. 1t is safe to
say that there will be more huddled up to-
gether in this town and its precincts a twelve
month hence than the world ever saw on one
spot before. What splendid opportunity it
will be to exhibit first-class California earth.
quake!


What this city was, or what these people
were in their calmer moments, have no means
OF knowing now. But here are relics of refine
menf, and now and then you meet a quiet old
gentleman who seems to have just risen from
long Sleep This sane old gentleman behaves
ike Christian, is not wild, and can talk to
you for at least two minutes without getting
into perspiration of excitement about ''the
Centennial" But then Philadelphia is look
ing with grave suspicion on the conduct of this
cool old gentleman, and it is a safe propehcy
that before the year is out they will put this
only sane man among them into madhouse.


had always seen Philadelphia in my mind
with foreground make up altogether of the
great and good Penn standing under tree, in
a broad hat and a tremendous Jacket. Tho
peaceful man, with the kindest countenauce
IN the world forever in my minds eye, stood
there extending his two hands to the big red
man who sat before him on his launches smok-
ing his pipe and placidy closing his eyes under
speech.


That picture of Philadelphia. which was
really made up altogether of William Penn,
the big red man in his feathers, the cool flow
ing river at their feet, and the wide green
branches above them, L brought here with
me last week. L had kept that picture in nv
heart from childhood. | had said to myself,
when it shall come to pass-as it surely
will-that shall tire of all toe world or all
the world shall tire of me, and am weary
AID want to rest, will go to the great city
that lies between the two rivers and rest under
her cool trees. l came here But now, alasi
know l shall never see the Philadelphia of
my childhood. This does not look at all like
it. 1t does no. look like it even on Sunday,
when the wild and excited Quaker has gone 10
church and is sleeping the sleep of the Just.
1t seems to me as if Philadelphia was further
on: L feel like resenting this dismal disap-
"
after all, Philadelphia, even as it is now, is
great deal genter, more refined, better ia fact.
In in many respects, than New York. But
then that is saying SO very little for Philadel-
phia.


In all seriousness, in spite of the excitement
and nervousness of these peop,e here, this
Centennial is bound to be the biggest thing in
its way that the world has ever seen. 1t would
take much time to tell just why it is to be the
Ing thing OF the century. But you may sum
up briefly by noting few of the happy cir
cumstances that conspire to make 1t so-the
profound peace, the worlds prosperity, the
new found desire of the Old World to travel
and to come west, the noble emulation of all
England, the hearty interest of the mighty
West, (which now for the first time finds an
opportunity to exhibits its handiwork, and SO
on through long statement of happy facts.


AS to the town of Philadelphia. BAIL
Here shall tread on somebody's corns. What
long and lonesome streets! They stretch and
stretch away and away into space as if they
would stretch across the Plains. How meas
ureless and mathematical. In the old world
you can get lost, and find yourself, and get lost
again, and come upon strange old places, and
make discoveries and run all sorts of risks;
and all that in some little bit of walled town
no bigger than that colossal iron ediice they
are building over there for the centennial
But here only blind man or an idiot can en-
joy that luxury. One comes to long even for
The crooked little DOW lanes of Boston.


But then there is nothing old-fashioned here
to discover. Everything is painted white or
red, and looks as if it was made yesterday.
the town seems SO very new. In fact, Phila-
delphia is so new you can smell the varDish on
it, The houses as a rule, are all exactly alike
all red, blood red brick; white window-sh
ters and marble-cased doors that look like the
entrances TO sepulchres. Only now and then q
house starts up in the long monotonous line of
red, and attempts to assert itself and be bit
original. But then it does look so odd and so
awkward that you wish it had not done it.
fIhArQ il hara II fhot 10
built of sombre granite 1t has Greek porch
and two small windows. That is originality
with vengeance. 1t looks like Newgate. In
truth am bound to say that Philadelphia, as
1t now stands, is the ugliest town L ever saw.
And yet here are some buildings, mostly
churches, that are very beautiful. The Cathe-
dral is not only very beautiful but is very mag
nificent. Why are the churches kept so
closely under lock and key in this place? In
California, Mexico, all the old world, even in
some Pagan countries, the churches are al
ways open for you to enter at will. Here they
are open only on Sundays aud set times; and
even then there is man set TO keep guard of
the door, as if the minister was afraid you
would smuggle yourself into heaven against
the consent of his sexton. Beautiful edifces
there are here. There are two or three that
are almost as large and symmetrical as West
minister Abbey. Do you know l saw yester-
day one church with wire screess fastened
about it's cornices and capitals to keep the
birds from building there! You see even the
little birds are not permitted to build their
nests in the chiseled and tase full cornices of
that Philadelphian place of worship. That
church ought TO be very cleap-and very
empty.


There are few pretty little squares here full
of trses, and pretty children, and ugly foun-
tains, that, unlike the city officers of Philadel-
pha, one never knew to play. sat by one of
these hideous deformities yesterday in Ritten-
house Square. There are four horses heads
pointing to the four quarters of the world.
lIACn haa hol1 1o. h.
horse was sick. And, horrible to tell the
water runs, whenever it does run, out of their
noses! l defy any man with sensibility above
that of a crocodile to look at tn fountain with
out feeling of sCffocation and disgust. He will
put his hand to his throat before he knows it.
There hang the droopirg beads of the four sick
horses, dripping and dripping and dripping
from the nose as if they had the glanders and
had been turned out into the pasture to die.
1t is too horrible to think Of. 1 noticed that
the children instinctively played on the other
side of the square. The pedestal, like many
others in Philadelphia, has a tin sign tackled on
the side of it iD the most conspicuous place,
which reads: "This fountain was presented to
the city of Philadelphia by -" They should
also add these words: ''In consideration of this
being distinctly and conspcuousy inscribed on
tin sign aud tackled up OF the side of it,
And yet with all this bad taste here are some
too, by the gentlest of gentlemen. Only one or
two of them all (perhaps shoddes) will turn
suddenly on you and tell you at what bargain
he bought that picture, or hint at the costly
price of his carpet.


The park here, running all the way out to that
little paradise, Chesnut Hill, is triumph. 1t
is perhaps the finest, naturally, in all the world.
There you see the houses, 100, in which Tom
Moore, the poet, Robert Morris, the million
naire and prisoner for debt, and Arnold the
traitor, all lived or visited believe that there
is also battlefield or two in this park, and
monastery, and so on. But these are idle mat
ters compared to the savage grandeur and
wooded and watery beauty of the great park.
1t is true there is not a fountain yet in the
park. Nor is there a piece of statuary. But
there is room and plenty of it too, for roved
rode and drove till tired and have not yet come
upon the further edge OF Fairmount Park.


And then those two beautiful rivers pulsing
with life and populous with men going up and
down, busy building and fashioning the great
new world. The ud-tongued. cool ard re-
freshing woods, as wild in the park almost as
when Penn first ped ddled out his beads and cali
Goes in that great treaty under the elm where
the red man sat silent on launches and sold
his kingdom for calico shirt.


How beautiful, how peaceful, how perfect 1t
is here!-that is to say, out here in the
park. For, as to Philadephia-well, really
there is nothing to see in Philadelphia till you