Our Show / A Humorous Account of the International Exposition in Honor of the Centennial Anniversary of American Independence, from Inception to Completion, Including Description of Buildings, Biographies of Managers, Receptions of Foreign Dignitaries, Opening Ceremonies, Poem, Oration, Amusing Survey of All Departments, Incidents, Etc., Etc.

by David Solis Cohen; H. B. Sommer

THE PROCESSION,

the march from Independence Square to the Exposition grounds. We shall endeavor, in brief style, not to do justice to, but to give some slight account of the grandest pageant which any nation has yet witnessed in its midst.

The immense body, consisting of representative military from every nation under the sun and in the shade, was divided into two hundred and forty divisions, each with a commanding general and aids.BENJAMIN’S
COAT. General Joseph E. Johnston, of Georgia, was to have been Grand Marshal. His uncle Andrew being dead, unfortunately, he was obliged to have his only military coat repaired by a tailor who was not punctual, and who failed to express it to him in time. General Butler, of Massachusetts, however, who happened to have two coats with him, very kindly loaned one to Johnston, who appeared in the afternoon. Attached to the back of the loaned garment was a neat show-card, bearing this inscription—

ANOTHER BRIDGE
ACROSS THE
BLOODY CHASM.
THE TRIBUTE OF
MASSACHUSETTS
TO
GEORGIA.

The General was lustily cheered wherever he went, and General Butler was the subject of more praise during this day, than during any portion of his life subsequent to his occupation of New Orleans.

The position of honor, the First Division, was given to the Philadelphia regiments by a unanimous vote of the generals of divisions.

Col. Hill and Dale Benson led off with his command, which appeared for the first time in its new uniform. The immense black fur muffs, which the members borrowed from their sisters and wore upon their heads, gave them a very ferocious appearance, though most of their noses were completely hidden from view. Company “C” attracted particular attention. It had adopted a new “hop” for marching, which was both graceful and unique, though evidently fatiguing.

The “State Fencibles” turned out in fine style. With their accustomed liberality they presented arms to all the pretty girls they met on the way. The “City Troop” brought up the rear of the division. These warriors were arrayed in all their awful panoply of war—white ties and white kid gloves, with gold vinaigrettes, containing salts and extracts, dangling from their belts. Their horses were also supplied with vinaigrettes, which they sniffed occasionally in lieu of their usual odor—the smoke of battle. The Troop carried a magnificent banner, inscribed—

First in Peace—First in War—
and
First in the Hearts of their
Countrywomen.

And, on the reverse side—

PRESENTED TO THE
CITY TROOP OF PHILADELPHIA
BY THEIR
LADY FRIENDS AND ADMIRERS,
AT THEIR
FIRST ANNUAL PICNIC,
Schuylkill Falls Park, July 1, 1872.

The Pennsylvania Veterans, G. A. R., marched in the centre of the Second Division, and a moving incident occurred as they passed by the Mint near Broad Street.

The first distinguished warrior to appear was Colonel Mann, the hero of ~0007 fights, mounted upon the gallant steed which had borne him safely through them all. Along the route, his iron front proudly erect, his bronzed and battered features flushed with the nobility of a natural pride, he was greeted by the enthusiastic cheers of the assembled thousands. Maidens from beyond the seas—officers (no mean heroes themselves) from the armies of the old world, joined in the gracious tumult. One bald-headed veteran (a Marshal of the Windsor Castle Guards, who had left a leg at Balaklava, an arm at Waterloo, an eye in the Crimea, and who expected to distribute the rest of himself upon various other battle-fields before he died) turned to the Chevalier De Lafayette, who with Senator Sam Josephs occupied the barouche with him, and asked—

“Who is passing, Chevalier, that the people appear so excited?”

“Quely vous motre dio, do you really not know?” exclaimed the Chevalier, “Zat is, graciosa poverisi, zat is ze Kunel Mann, pardieu, ze great Kunel Mann.”

“What!” shouted the veteran, and pulling from his coat the diamond order of “St. George and the Dragon fly” which blazed among an hundred others upon his breast, he rose in his coach and flung it gracefully to the Colonel, who caught it quite as gracefully upon the fly. At this moment a great shout arose. The populace imagined that a shot had been fired at the Colonel, that an attempt had been made to assassinate their pet hero.THE PET OF
THE POPULACE. The mob rushed for the carriage which contained the veteran, with cries of “kill him,” etc. etc. The Colonel took in the situation at a glance. Rising in his stirrups he spread wide his arms to show he was uninjured.

“Hold,” he shouted, in that same voice of loud and deep toned beauty which oft had brought the briny tears to eyes of hardened criminals in the dock, “Hold; he is my friend: he has given me this badge (‘Cape May diamonds,’ he added sotto voce); who touches a hair of his bald head, dies like a dog—march on,” he said.

The cries for vengeance changed to wild cheers of joy, and the procession moved on.

The Foreign Divisions followed the Pennsylvanians in rotation adopted by lot. The Caledonian club was a marked feature of the English Division among which it was numbered, being the only representation from Scotland. The members appeared in full Highland costume, kilt, sash, and checker-board stockings. The chiefs danced the Highland Fling all along the route to the inspiring strains of the regimental bagpipes. The company of Orangemen with their Lemon aids was also a part of this division; they were commanded by Col. Terrence McDougall.

The brigade of French Chasseurs in the Fifth Division, commanded by Marshal Benzine, presented a splendid appearance, and wore the strings of doughnuts which were thrown around their shoulders with a truly fascinating French abandon.

The “French Lancers,” in the same division, danced the quadrille named after them at each lamp-post along the line.

A number of survivors of the late French war were carried along in Sedan chairs. This must have been a sad sight for Frenchmen. We are not Frenchmen.

The German Landsturm soldiers were artistically decorated with pretzels and oranges. Their division was preceded by the Emperor William and his family, drawn in one of the ambulances of the German Hospital, the horses being appropriately decorated with German and American bunting.

The Austrian Grenadiers (division seventy), carried a miniature hydrant, emblematic of temperance; also an open Bible on a velvet cushion.

The Centennial managers were somewhat annoyed by the appearance in line of a commission from the African interior, which insisted on taking part in the procession, or eating the Director General. They marched along in their native costume, consisting of a skewer through their back hair.

Of course they were not aware of anything out of the way in their get up, but Mr. Goshorn said that rather than have the thing occur again, GOSHORN’S
NOBLE RESOLVE.he would sacrifice himself on the altar of propriety, and be eaten. His brother commissioners encouraged him in this resolve.

Immediately after the Foreign Divisions, came the “National Centennial Guards,” formed of companies from the thirteen original States. They were headed by Generals Grant, Sherman, Butler, and Hartranft, and were followed by the Centennial Commissioners in barouches.

The Commissioners were paired off with foreign civil dignitaries and potentates. The Prince of Wales was inveigled into a carriage with two of our city officials: he left for home next day. Queen Victoria (his mother) enjoyed the society of the Chief of the Fire Department: she remained until the close of the Exposition.

One carriage was cheered vociferously. It contained Vice-President Wilson, Mr. Jefferson Davis, Simon Cameron, and Robert Toombs.

The American divisions, which included companies and regiments from every State and city in the Union, succeeded the barouches. A great many of these organizations brought their own bands with them, or as the saying is, “blew their own horns,” but many others depended upon the well-known musical resources of Philadelphia. They discovered that delays were dangerous. They had to do the best they could.

The “Duquesne Greyhounds,” of Pittsburgh, were preceded by Signor Maccaroni’s band—two harps and a female violinist, while the “Charleston Fusileers” were obliged to fusileer to the strains of seven jews-harps, kindly volunteered by juvenile American talent.

A noticeable company was the “Palmetto Guards,” of South Carolina, dressed in dusters and straw hats, and bearing palm-leaf fans. The “Ancient Artillery,” of Boston, thorough sons of guns, every man of them, also attracted much attention. Their step was the Boston glide.

The “Norfolk Blues” and the “Virginia Carbuncles” entered upon the march with highly polished rifles and well filled canteens. Their rifles were still highly polished when the march was over.

The “Seventh Regiment,” of New York, composed entirely of officers, was much applauded. Its discipline was apparent in its style of marching and the waxed moustaches of its members.

The brigade of American Indians was under the command of General Sheridan. The warriors were conveniently and economically uniformed in blankets. Each chief had his initials plainly visible upon the corner of his blanket. By a strange coincidence, almost a fatality, the initials of the name of every man in the brigade were the same letters—U and S.

The “West Point Cadets” were also in line. They made a peaceful and pleasing show with their little tin swords and wooden guns. They looked very neat too, clean faces and well-brushed hair showing that they were tenderly cared for. Their jackets were buttoned tight up to their necks. The ladies were charmed with them, and “little dears,”THE
“LITTLE DEARS.” “sweet, ain’t they?” were the expressions heard on all sides. Much sympathy was expressed for them on account of the great length of the route—entirely too long for children to traverse. The cadets were to have remained during two weeks of the Exposition, but they got to eating unripe cherries from the trees in the Park, and falling into the Schuylkill River, so the Commissioners were compelled to send them home.

The “Naval Cadets” were marshalled under Secretary Robeson. This old salt was arrayed as Neptune, with a trident in his hand, and a crown of real sea-shells upon his aged, weather-beaten brow. The cadets were taken care of during their stay by a file of marines.

The procession started at 10 o’clock, and by two P. M. one-half of the main body having passed the Continental Hotel, the head of the procession reached Memorial Hall, while the tail was wagging here, there and everywhere, about the sacred shadows of Independence Hall.

At Memorial Hall, amid the salvos of artillery, the pealings of bells, and music of the band; the hymns of the singers, and the cheering of the vast, innumerable multitude, the

CHAPLAIN OF THE UNITED STATES SENATE

ascended the decorated pulpit.

Mayor Stokley stepped forward. Tear-drops glistened in his translucent orbs. He raised his arm; his hand, so used to threaten and command, implored silence.SILENCE. In a single moment the firing ceased, the bells pealed no more; the last echoes of the hymns were carried heavenward upon the gentle breeze; the people ceased shouting, and a holy, solemn silence reigned supreme.

CHAPTER VI.
“THE FIRE.” ... Who flared and how they did it.

Amid this profound silence the Chaplain proceeded to inform the Lord for what purpose that great concourse of people was assembled.

He intimated that as “the earth was the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, and as the United States of America formed a part of the earth, and its citizens frequently gave evidence of the fulness thereof, it was eminently proper that He should not be kept in ignorance of its doings.”

He quoted freely from Scripture to convince his hearers that man was not all-powerful, but that, sooner or later, he must needs leave country, home, greenbacks, office, and corner lots behind him.

Alluding to the nations of olden time, he aired his classical learning. He informed his hearers that Greece and Rome were not now exactly what they had been, and mentioned likewise that Romulus and Mr. Julius Cæsar had both been dead for some time.

He also remarked upon several interesting historical facts of more modern date, which he seemed to think might possibly have slipped the memory of the angels,—namely: that a number of European countries were governed by potentates; that some of these had not been all that virtuous, peace-loving men could have wished them; that an assembly of individuals had pronounced freedom to be the prerogative of all mankind;—then, after commending Mr. Grant and his cabinet, Mr. Stokley and his city council, Mr. Goshorn and his associates, to the good graces of the heavenly host, he complimented that body on having the truest republic yet organized, and retired gracefully from the pulpit.

The orchestra of ten thousand selected musicians then executed Haydn’s magnificent “Oratorio of the Creation,” after which Mr. Ulysses S. Grant, who as President of the United States was chairman of the meeting, arose and made one of his powerful and eloquent addresses:—“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said he, “I hope I see you well. I am glad to see so many of you around me on this occasion. It is a very pleasant occasion. Like the century plant, it blooms but once in a hundred years. A good many of you, who I see around me on this occasion, will not be around when it comes around again. I thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for the manner in which you have received me, and I will make room for a longer winded man than me. I hope you will listen to him with attention. I thank you again, and hope you will all enjoy the exhibition. Allow me to introduce to you the orator of the day, selected by the Centennial Executive Committee.”

The building shook with the applause of the assembled multitude, and when the clamor had subsided, the orator began his address in a stirring appeal to

The Genius of Liberty.

“Ring out, ye bells, ye harbingers of liberty, ring out! The world is hushed to listen to your joyful pealings,—the heavens open and swallow up your golden sounds! From where the sun first breaks upon Columbia’s slopes to where the rain-drops thunder in supernal night,—where eagles screamTHE EAGLE
SHRIEKS. and dash their pinions ’gainst the crags and peaks which blaze in midday splendor,—where, rushing through the crimson sky, they swell the notes which drown the shrieking gale, and flashing arrows of electric light, piercing the groaning depths of chaos, echo beyond the shadow of eternal hills the cry of nature’s soul, the thrilling anthem—Liberty!

“It is our throne—the pedestal on which our building rests! a century agone its bed was hollowed out by pithy arms, now resting in the dust. Oh sturdy hearts! Oh honest hands! Beyond the boundaries of space and time, where Nature’s seedlings bud, and waters gather in a mighty deep, to thee, to thee we look through tears we dare not hide, and glimmering in the phosphorescent radiance of a holy past, we cry aloud, and loud the answer comes. The waves dash high, the breakers roar, the bright bow spans the clouds above, when lo, forth springs in brilliant splendor, our flag—the emblem of our dearest hopes,—our pride, forth springs in glorious purity, our flag,—the stars and stripes,—the flag of Adams and his son John Quincy.”

At this stage of the proceedings, four hundred ladies uttered a simultaneous scream and fainted. The gallant orator, descending from the rostrum, helped to carry and lay them upon the greensward without, where members of the Fire Department promptly saturated them with a portion of the Schuylkill River. Then, taking a hasty draught of Bowers’ Centennial Mead, the orator re-entered the hall and resumed his address. Not one of the audience had left—during the interim they had been nicely entertained by the Director General (always prepared for emergencies), who gave them a comic song and dance.

In resuming, the orator alluded to the Garden of Eden. He explained how the “S” became added to the name of Adam, and drew a pleasant word picture of the illustrious founder of his family in his fig-tree suit. He spoke for two hours in an interesting manner, and concluded.

The chorus then joined in the national anthem, “Pop goes the Weasel,” after which the

Poet of the Occasion,

LONGFELLOW.America’s sweetest singer, who touches with his gentle hand the heart-strings of the world, waking them to musical response as pure and truthful as his own blessed soul, stepped forward, and read his original poem, which will live forever, a mile-stone of the nation.

The people listened with rapt attention to the words of the honored bard. He seemed inspired; his voice was full, and each syllable he uttered reached every corner of the immense building. We caught the words and pinned them to our note-book in phonographic characters as they were given birth, and we reproduce them here complete and unabridged.

A Song in Two Voices.FOREVER
AND FOREVER.

First Voice.

The silent horologe of time, which varies never,
Hath swept into the bosom of that sea
Pulsating ’gainst the rock “Eternity,”
The life-blood of an hundred years,
Forever and forever!

But crimson blood upon the Ocean’s wavelets, never
Content beneath the surface smooth to hide,
Will traces leave enrubying the tide,
Till earth in chaos disappears,
Forever and forever!

We gaze upon a restless sea, which quiets never,
And read as on a changing, moving scroll,
The nation’s living, cryptogamic soul,
Which Death’s dark lantern lights and clears,
Forever and forever!

They are our own, these dead we look upon, though never
Have we full guessed the good which passed away;
To know what we were losing day by day,
Would be, methinks, to live in tears,
Forever and forever!

Then listen, brothers, for my failing voice may never,
Be heard again throughout our fatherland;
And e’en the pen drops from my feeble hand,
As my long journey swiftly nears,
Forever and forever!

List while I read to you the graven tale, which never
May be all told by these poor lips of mine,
For coming ages still add line to line,
Till earth no longer heeds nor hears,
Forever and forever!

Second Voice.

Speak, speak, thou dismal guest,
With gloomy thoughts oppressed,
Speak quick and give a rest,
To those who hear thee:

Much pleased we’ve read the lays,
Writ in thy youthful days,
Giving no stint of praise,
Aiming to cheer thee.

Proud of thy fame are we;
Therefore most graciously,
For what it’s worth will thee,
“Our poet” christen:

Long, long will live thy verse,
As will, too, much that’s worse,
And if thou wilt be terse,
Brother, we’ll listen.

First Voice.

In the old colony days in London, the chief town of England,
In the cellar which runs to and fro ’neath the Parliament building,
With a pipe in his mouth and a match in his hand, made of sulphur,
On a keg of dry powder was seated Mr. Guy Fawkes awaiting the signal.
Above was King George with a sword in his hand at a table,
Drinking green tea, which he always had made “with a stick,”
While up by the urn, stood a beautiful Puritan maiden,
With sweet, smiling eyes like the bloom of the bluebells in summer,
Who opened her mouth, and with laughing lips uttered this question,—
“My liege, would you like just a little bit more of gunpowder?”
Guy Fawkes was discovered and hung, and his body was cast in the Tiber,
King George wasn’t blown up just then—but not many years after,
His tea was the match which ignited the spark, and gave him some few more gunpowder.

Second Voice.

Tell us not in furlong numbers,
What we know as well as you,
Though you’ve got things mixed up “somewurs.”
King George wasn’t Cromwell too.

Life is short and time is fleeting,
And we fear, if you intend
To go on old tales repeating,
We shall never reach an end.

First Voice.ABORIGINAL
POETRY

Kajo, kajo, mudjekewiss,
Jeebi ishkoodah jossakeed,
Shinghé, shingebis shah shuh gah;
Chibiabo bukadawin,
Wahonowin! Wahonowin!
Totem totem ahkosewin,
Minehaha, haha, haha,
Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha.

Second Voice.

Thank you, sir.

First Voice.

Nation of our hopes and prayers,
Time steals by us unawares,
Gravestones seal our joys and cares.

We must leave thee whilst thou’rt young,
Whilst the bell for freedom rung,
Echoes still from heart to tongue:

Standing on Oppression’s tomb,
In thy youthful beauty’s bloom,
Monument of tyrants’ doom;

Gazing with a lofty pride
O’er thy hearthstone, boundless, wide,—
Oceans washing either side;

Towns and cities, hills and vales;
Earth with joy thy Queenship hails,
Seas and rivers bear thy sails!

FAIR
COLUMBIA.

Fair Columbia, we must go,
Far beyond thy oceans’ flow,
Far beyond thy mountains’ snow;

Other sons will ’bout thee rise,
Love thy blue and starlit eyes,
Love the white thy life flow dyes:

May their hearts’ love never leave thee,
May they dream no thoughts to grieve thee,
Never of a star bereave thee;

May the olive in thy hand
Spread until its branches grand
Shelter safely all thy land;

And as days and years are told,
May thy brilliant flag enfold
Strength which never groweth old.

May the world beneath the sun,
In the freedom thou hast won,
See a boon denied to none.

For a gift from God thou art,
Missioned bravely to impart
Sunshine to the sunless heart.

This poem was telegraphed, word for word as spoken, to the “New York Herald,” appearing in that sheet next morning. From its columns it was copied, the week after, into the Philadelphia journals.

After the poem, Messrs. Arbuckle and Levy, the cornetists, played “Old Hundred.” It proved a great success, as it had never before been attempted—in a horn.

The Massachusetts gentleman selected for the honor, then read an essay by Thomas Jefferson, entitled

The Declaration of Independence.

This production was replete with witty sayings and wise aphorisms, doubtless very applicable to the time in which it was written, but somewhat obsolete and wanting in point at present. The soda-water fountain was much patronized during this portion of the ceremonies. AN APPRECIATIVE
PRESIDENT.General Grant sat it out, however, and mentioned afterwards that he considered it one of the finest things he had ever listened to. He inquired particularly concerning the author, and seemed disappointed when informed that he was dead. He would doubtless have enjoyed making Thomas a revenue inspector or an Indian commissioner.

Again the combined orchestra and chorus howled forth. This time it was “Paddle your own Canoe.”

Mr. L.Q.C. Lamar, of Mississippi,

Orator of the Day No. 2,

stepped forward. He remarked that as it was growing late he should not detain them long. At this, those favored ones to take part in the banquet concluding the ceremonies, brightened up wonderfully.

The orator then proceeded to say that this was the first centennial celebration in which he had taken part; he therefore hoped that any shortcoming might be overlooked in consideration of his quick going. He remarked that he came from where the Mississippi wound her silvery length through rich green fields, by thriving towns and mighty cities; that he was a native of the Sunny South, those happy realms where nightingales tuned harmonious song and alligators sported in their lukewarm baths. He mentioned that this was a great country, that the sun rose in the East and set in the West, and that while the snow-flakes fell and whitened all the northern plains, the orange bloomed and gentle breezes blessed the southern groves.

“We are but travellers here,” said he, pathetically, “and while we breathe the air and walk upon the earth, we have two duties which should command the energies of our minds, the strength of our arms, and the honor of our souls;—one, to our fathers, those who have gone before—the other to our children, those who have already come and those yet to come after.” Mr. Lamar did not exempt bachelors from the latter of these duties, but in eloquent language urged upon all the great mission of an American citizen.

The orator continued for three hours, and ’twas only when darkness fell and the chambermaid came in to light the gas, that he concluded; telling his spell-bound listeners, that, although he had much more to say, he would remember his promise to be brief, and postpone the remainder of his address until the next centennial, hoping that in the mean time they would ponder well upon the truths which he had uttered.

General Sherman here nudged the President, who had fallen into a gentle spell-bound doze, and who, awakening with a start, rose and said:—

“And now, by virtue of authority in me vested, I, Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States of America, do declare this Exhibition open for the transaction of all such business as may be legally brought before it.—Amen.”

The musical fraction ended up with Beethoven’s Twelfth Mass, and “Little Brown Jug” for encore, and thus was the

International Exposition

inaugurated.

Through the courtesy of the Centennial Managers, we were supplied with copies of several odes, poems, essays, etc., forwarded to the committee by various distinguished authors of this and other countries, and rejected for reasons best known to the committee. Of these we cannot refrain from inserting a contribution from Lord Alfred Tennyson. It is in the shape of a two-act drama, entitled

“George W. Washington.”

It has been pronounced by competent judges to be equal to much that Shakspeare did not write. It has been translated into the celestial tongue, and will be produced during the next century at the Theatre Royal, Hong Kong. We understand that CLARA’S
NEXT ROLE.Miss Clara Morris is studying the role of G. W. Washington.

ACT FIRST.

SCENE—Winter Quarters at Valley Forge. The American Army sleeping on the left side of the stage. Delaware River flowing in the rear. Seven 42-pounders pointed towards the audience (to be discharged if they leave before the curtain falls). A full regiment of cavalry ready to issue R. I. E. Practicable window in flat.

Thomas Jones, a farmer, and Sambo, Washington’s servant, discovered.

Sambo.

You may not enter—the General snores in sleep;

Sweet sleep, that balm in heaven distilled,

Has fallen on his eyelids.

(Sings)

Low, galoot; speak low, galoot, or you may wake him—

Low, galoot, low!

Farmer Jones.

Yet listen, gentle knave; a farming man am I

From Jersey. Should’st open now my heart,

Lo, thou would’st find but two words graven on it—

Trenton and whiskey!

THE PLOT
THICKENS.

Sambo.

(Sings)

Low, galoot; speak low, galoot, or you may wake him—

Low, galoot, low!

Farmer Jones.

The keystone of our government is shattered,

The Hessians are in Trenton!

Sambo.

Methinks some traitor spoke. ’Tis not yet lost.

Send out, send out the constables,

And have them all

Arrested. Egg Harbor is not taken yet?

Farmer Jones.

(Joyously)

Egg Harbor is not taken yet!

Sambo.

Then there is hope. But, hush!—he’s here!

(Washington enters through window and listens.)

Farmer Jones.

Who?

Sambo.

Our General—great George Washington!

Farmer Jones.

Oh!!

[All exit. Curtain falls.

ACT SECOND.

SCENE—State-House at Philadelphia. Continental Congress in session, John Hancock in the chair; representatives ground around; large concourse of citizens in the hall; the back window open, through which a view of Independence Square in flat. Procession passing with flags and banners, and band of music. A political meeting in the Square; also a few Indians lassooing buffalo. Eagle screams as curtain rises.

John Hancock. Ah!

Robert Morris.Indeed!!

Thomas Jefferson.Possible!!!

John Adams.Very remarkable!!!!

[Exit all the representatives except Benjamin Franklin.

GRAND
DENOUEMENT.

First Citizen. Shall we go too?

Second Citizen. Go to!

Third Citizen. For which we should be thankful.

[Exit all the citizens. Franklin alone.

Benjamin Franklin.

From Jersey, New York, Delaware, and Pennsylvania,

Virginia, Massachusetts, and both the Carolinas,

These men have come who have but just gone out.

There’s Hopkinson, and Middleton, and Harrison,

And William Ellery, George Taylor, and Josiah Bartlett;

Morton, Walton, Joe Hewes, and Willie Hooper,

And many more; and I am left alone—

No!—here come Roger Sherman, Gerry, and George Whytte.

(Milkman sings without.)

“Bully for you, Susie,
Bully for you now,
To go and milk the water pump,
’Stead of the cow.
Chalk is very cheap,
Milk is quite a heap,
Healthier when diluted than it came from the cow.”

Franklin.

I wish I was a milkman; methinks it is a better

Business than being a philosopher—

Ah, gentle friends, what news?

(Enter Roger Sherman, Gerry, and George Whytte.)

Sherman.

Washington has crossed the Delaware!

(Chorus outside) [many voices]. “Washington forever!”

George Whytte.

Lo, he will be our President!

(Shouts again) [many voices]. “Three cheers for Washington!”

Gerry.

Who knows?

Benjamin Franklin.

Let us pray.

(They all kneel, and the orchestra strikes up “Yankee Doodle” as the curtain drops.)

CHAPTER VII.
“THE REFLECTIONS.” ... Shadows, shapes, and those who made them.

“

You are standing, sir, directly upon the equator.” Our country cousin jumped aside in terror; his face grew white, his knees trembled, his hair stood on end. It was our first visit to the Main Exhibition Building after its opening, and he had accompanied us.

“Great Heaven!” he gasped, “why did they leave it around here—is it dangerous?” and he backed into an Italian brigand who was strolling leisurely along, “it oughter be in the zoological department,” he added, and peered around for a glimpse of the animal.

We smiled pityingly.

“The equator, our dear cousin,” said we, “is that broad chalk line marked across the floor of the building. It represents the centre of the earth. Here, take the glasses;—now observe,—that main mast or telegraph pole, painted white and decked with ribbons, which you see at the extreme end of the avenue, is a very complete fac-simile of THE NORTH
POLE REACHED
AT LAST.the North Pole. Now, turn around;—that clothes prop (kindly loaned by Mrs. Forney) represents the South Pole. At one end, to speak poetically, we have Greenland’s Icy Mountain, at the other, Mrs. Forney’s Coral Strand. Let us take a cursory glance of what lies between.”

We do not propose to give more than the merest superficial account of the wonders and glories of the great display. Everywhere the eye rested it was dazzled with jewels, silver, splendor, and—and—so forth. Striped gauzes, magnificent bronzes, burnished armor, superb laces, fine inlaid work, unique carvings, rich and rare fancy goods, musical instruments, books, acres of useful articles, miles of ornamental productions, food, clothing, and—and—more so forth.

Perhaps it would be best for the intelligent reader to imagine himself, or, more happily, herself, in our pleasant company, cousin and all. But first a word of warning to the intelligent reader. After many sleepless days, the managers had decided to arrange the nations in geographical order, as far as possible—and to leave the rest to Providence. Therefore the intelligent readers will do well to follow the example of the intelligent authors, and forgetting any geographical knowledge they may happen to possess, leave their rest to Providence also. They will spare themselves many sudden shocks and annoying perplexities. Such, for instance, as this: taking one avenue straight along and passing consecutively through Austria, South Sea Islands, Manayunk, Siam, China, Morocco, Beverly, Egypt, Darby, France, Switzerland, and Tipperary, ending up with Turkey and the Sultan ready, soap and towel in hand, to give the visitor a specimen of his luxurious patent bath. Or, coming back on the other side, to find in one long line, Germany, Sweden, Norway, England, Iceland, Doylestown, Ireland, British America, Media, and in the corner Japan, where a Mandarin and a Womandarin perform “Hari Kari” every day to illustrate the custom of the country,—the same parties, however, only appearing once in the same performance.

Naturally, our own country claims our first and best attention. From Maine to Florida, from Boston to San Francisco, State after State, city after city, makes its display. In addition to the separate and peculiar exhibits of the States, clusters of identical interests from North, South, East, and West, attest the resources and development of our land. Let us pause for a moment and examine the display of the

American Bankers’ and Brokers’ Association,POPULAR
TABLEAUX.

which will serve for an example of these latter.

We find the credit system very cleverly demonstrated. A working man enters into a banking house with his month’s earnings nicely tied up in the corner of his handkerchief: a blandly smiling clerk, with well pared nails and laundried linen, receives it and notes the amount in the depositor’s account book;—the workingman departs. Then the proprietor enters, gives a portion of the money to his clerk and puts the remainder carefully away—in his pocket. In another apartment, the projectors of a railway company offer a graceful financier one-half of their beautifully printed stock certificates, on condition that he floats the other half. A widow, with the money which she has just received as insurance upon her husband’s life, comes upon the scene. She makes known to the banker her anxiety to invest this money securely for the benefit of her helpless family. He magnanimously spares her a portion of the railroad stock, charging her but a small commission for his services. With the balance of his stock as collateral, he borrows money from a national bank and makes a corner in flour. Through the window of this apartment there is a beautifully arranged vista, showing the banker building a magnificent villa and settling it upon his wife. A third compartment contains the closing tableaux:—a meeting of assignees declaring a dividend of nothing, payable in twelve, twenty-four, and thirty-six months, and the banker stepping on board of an A, 1, steamer, to pass the remainder of his life in ease and luxury among the wonders and beauties of the old world. In this department also, we find a collection of the coins of our country, at which its people look in amazement. A father is endeavoring to explain to his son, a boy of twelve, what these gold and silver pieces were once used for. It is an interesting study in ancient history for the lad, but he is doubting as youth is apt to be, and does not appear thoroughly satisfied that they were ever current money.

We push our way rapidly through the States. Maine has her liquor law, charmingly framed—but we find her Commissioners in Kentucky drinking Kentucky lemonade. Vermont exhibits a green mountain boy; the look in his eye belies his color. Massachusetts presents her genealogical tree. Rhode Island is represented by an immense specimen of inflated bullfrog. New York has on hand her canal ring, blazing with diamonds. Pennsylvania has her Switchback. Delaware another kind of switchback—her whipping post, and here we delay our progress to admire hers. Great bodies move slowly, and the Delawareans have great bodies—but mighty little souls. Their “stocks” are up, however, and they don’t seem to care. We suggest that the Governor of the State and the members of the Legislature be thrashed alternately every hour, to give a general idea of the modus operandi to foreigners. Our suggestion is not received in the spirit in which it is offered.

But we do not succeed in completing our trip through the Union this day. Our country cousin brings us to a stoppage by his absurd conduct.

MISTAKEN
HOSPITALITY.One exhibitor offered him half a pound of mince meat: he devoured it. A Connecticut woman presented him with a small cheese, her own manufacture: it followed the footsteps of the meat. In Massachusetts he received a package of corn starch: he put it serenely where he kept his cheese. We looked upon him in amaze, but said nothing. A New York merchant handed him a small cake of transparent shaving soap. “My golly!” he remarked, “this beats a lunch route,” and he swallowed it whole. A New Jersey farmer offered him a string of dried apples: they went the way of his preceding receipts. A Pennsylvania matron begged him to try a draught of her buttermilk: he complied, and we saw him swell visibly before our eyes. Two ounces of Virginia Baking Powder was the next tribute: he winced a little at this, but—down it went. We tried to stop him, but too late—he just chewed a small stick of South Carolina stove polish, and then the baking powder accomplished its fatal mission. He mentioned that he did not feel very well. We expressed surprise and sympathy. He said he felt worse, and then he tried to smile, but alas, the apples lay heavy on his soul—he couldn’t. He asked if it wasn’t time to go home—he said it was a splendid show, but he thought he’d seen enough of it.

“Come home,” said he, “its dinner time.”

“Why,” we replied, “you’re not hungry, are you?”

He didn’t answer; he turned a reproachful glance upon us. We were now in Georgia, and a colored man held out to him a sweet potato pudding. Savagely he turned upon that negro, his eyes rolled wildly, he labored under intense emotions, mingled emotions of cheese, soap, and baking powder, he uttered one long despairing yell and sank down upon the floor. A crowd gathered about him in a second; two or three officials pushed their way through the assemblage and grabbed hold of him. “The first case,” they cried triumphantly; “carry him to the Hospital.” They bore our poor cousin to the

Grand International Hospital,

east of the Main Building, and we followed in tears.

A Turkish physician ran to meet us as we approached the structure. The Turks believe in radical cures—this one wanted to smother our relative between two feather beds. We objected. Two Chinese doctors stopped us at the doorway. One wanted our cousin to swallow three green lizards, the other recommended the immediate extraction of all his front teeth. An Indian medicine man here commenced dancing around us, yelling at the top of his voice, and banging an old tambourine with the shin-bone of an ass.

This was nothing! When we entered the building the international surgeons came down upon us like—like—like “a wolf on the fold.” This was the first case, and they were spoiling for a job. Our cousin looked in their eager and varied faces, he gazed upon the assortment of cutlery flashing around him—his lip quivered—he closed his eyes—and fainted. In less than two seconds that

Unfortunate Countryman

would have been dissected, and the doctors engaged in mortal strife above his severed limbs, had not a most diabolical uproar outside suddenly distracted their attention.

We all rushed to the grounds, and a blood-freezing scene of terror met our eyes.

“LONE SHIRT”
ON THE CHINESE
QUESTION. Mr. Lone Shirt, Mr. Full o’ the Rye, and Man with the Seven Big Bunions, Esq., the Chiefs of the Indian encampment, had been illustrating their native customs by a sudden

Raid on the Chinese Laundry.

They had attired themselves in the napkins, towels, and nightcaps there contained, painted themselves with the washing blue, burnt down the building, and were just about finishing up things by scalping the startled celestials when we burst out upon them. The Chinese doctors took one glance at affairs, swallowed their lizards, and jumped into the lake north of Machinery Hall.

The Exhibition Military, led by the Marine Cavalry, hurried towards the fearful scene. Would they be in time? The tomahawks of the Indians were raised, their hands grasped firmly the pigtails of their victims—when suddenly—behold!—The savages grew rigid as though turned to stone, motionless they stood with tomahawks still elevated, their hands still pigtailentwisted—Oh providential chance!—They had swallowed the starch contained in the laundry, and this stiffening was the fortuitous result.

The managers released the half dead Chinamen, and pointed out to Messrs. Lone Shirt, Full o’ the Rye, and Man with the Seven Big Bunions, the impropriety of their conduct. When the chieftains thawed limber, they promised solemnly not to repeat anything of the kind, and smoked the liberty bell pipe with the laundrymen.

This incident saved our cousin’s life. When we returned to the hospital, he had vanished, much to the sorrow and chagrin of the disappointed M.D.’s.

We did not feel like returning to the Main Hall immediately after this. We thought a stroll through Memorial Hall might be soothing to our system, and so we took it.

Philadelphians familiar with that

Chamber of Horrors

in old Fairmount Park, which the Park Commissioners persist in styling an Art Gallery, have been bred up to a proper appreciation of the “pageant which rose like an exhalation” before our admiring eyes; upon others, especially foreigners, the effect must have been tremendous.

It is not our intention to criticize the pictures separately, or to draw invidious comparisons between the work of our own and other artists. Courtesy to our late visitors forbids it; and besides, the national peace must be preserved at any cost. We must admit, however, that it struck us that a number of the paintings might have been improved by a liberal paring at the nails from which they were suspended. Some of the Italian sketches looked to us as though they had been painted with raspberry jam. The chiara oscura effect, so to speak, was visibly heightened by the tone of the sombre shades, and the clever intermixture of the mediæval style with the ante-Raphaelite touches—the extreme fulness of the light and motion, and the mellowness of tint, produced, as it were, in the minds of connoisseurs like ourselves, the comparison which we have made.

Artists, like fishes, go in schools. Masters, pupils, janitors, scrapers out, and pot boilers. They were all well represented, Flemish, Dutch, Italian, French, and American schools making the most extensive report. We will mention a few of the biggest paintings in the handsomest frames.

“MURILLO AND RUBENS—
PAINTING AND GLAZING.”Mr. Murillo, a Spanish painter and glazier, sent—in addition to his famous “Madonna”—“The Parable of the Seven fat and Seven lean Cows.” This was a six-foot-square job. The seven fats were done in oil—the leans in water-colors.

Rubens was represented by a magnificent head of “Vasco De Gama;”—his feet were too large to frame. The likeness was excellent. Even a stranger, unacquainted with Mr. De Gama, could have recognized it at once—by the name in the corner.

A fine painting of Marat, executed by Miss Corday, was the biggest little gem in the French collection.

France also sent some sacred paintings, among them “St. Anthony’s Temptation” and “St. Vitus’ Dance.” Great Britain also had two sacred companion pieces—“Christ before the Priest” and “Christ after the Priest.”

In the American Department, a superb work entitled “The Salary,” appealed most directly to our feelings. It could not have been drawn with more ease by a Vandyke or Paganini.

“Wm. Penn treating the Indians” occupied a prominent corner.

“The Empty Jug” was a pathetic masterpiece, a subject which came directly home to the hearts of many who looked upon it.

For square inches and lavish extravagance in paint, “The Norsemen landing at Vineland, New Jersey,” deserved a prize.

Scores of virgins of all styles and sizes adorned the walls. Virgins clad in every costume worth mentioning, and a great many not worth mentioning. They were consigned by the Angelo Factory at Rome.

The sign and fence painters of the United States school made a very fine display.

Rothermel had his patent “S. T. 1860 X.” beautifully done in white-wash on the south wall of the building, and Moran, who pays more attention to marine work, had “Sea-weed Tonic” tenderly drawn in blue and gold. Bierstadt, the architect, sent a plan for a model brewery.

We felt so completely soothed after seeing this much that we didn’t enter the statuary department. We left that for another day, and jumping on a horse-car we made our way over to

Machinery Hall.

Imagine all the machinery the world contains in motion at the same time, and add about five million more machines to that. This will bring you as near the truth as this volume ventures to approach.

Fire, smoke, sweat, and labor; whirring and whizzing, banging and clanging, pounding and puffing, tinkling and jingling. One would think there were seventy thousand horses at work instead of the forty we have mentioned. Everything is being manufactured here—from a tooth-brush to a locomotive; from a latch-key to a wash-boiler. Each workman at a machine is attended by another man placed there expressly to answer questions and be interrogated by visitors. These latter men are carried away and revived every hour.

The famous individual who took a prize at the Paris Exposition, is here with his wonderful machine. You give him a live rabbit, and in fifty minutes he returns you a felt hat and a Welsh stew.

Keeley’s Motor was set up here a few days previous to the opening of the Exhibition, but somehow the machine got loose and knocked things into splinters.THE UNDERLAND
ROUTE. It dashed through the main entrance, got on the track of the Market Street cars, rushed clean down to the foot of Market Street, destroying everything in its way, and plunged into the Delaware River just eight seconds after leaving Machinery Hall. Workmen were put at dredging for it immediately, and before they gave up hope of recovering it, a telegram was received from Pekin, saying that it had passed through the Emperor’s palace, carrying the roof with it, and vanishing into space. From the hour telegraphed as the time of this occurrence, it was calculated that the machine landed in China just nineteen minutes after it left Elm Avenue. Mr. Keeley ascribed the cause of this freak to one drop of water too much, being in the reservoir.

There was another sort of motor on exhibition, however, which seemed especially attractive and novel to the boys. It consisted of nine strips of leather attached to a wooden handle.

The improved hotel front-tooth-picker was an object of attention in the American department, as was also the automatic hen for laying egg plants.

The patent American awning post rest, a neat pair of extended arms to support a reclining form, was much remarked; and a patent range, “warranted to save half the coal,” was very well spoken of: you buy two of them and you require no fuel at all.

Herring’s Hay Making Machine, for making hay in cloudy weather, and Rollin’s improved Iron Pump, for the use of newspaper reporters, also deserve mention.

In naming this pump to be used by interviewers, we must not forget an ingenious little instrument invented expressly for the protection of the parties interviewed.THE INVENTION
OF THE AGE. It is a silver-plated contrivance, which may be readily fastened to the bottom of any chair. The interviewer is invited to take a seat. At his first impertinent remark, a little knob is touched and a flat implement shaped like a No. 22 foot, begins bouncing up and down at the rate of seventy bumps a minute, and before the reporter knows what has happened, the top of his head is interviewing the ceiling of the room.

When he comes down to see what’s the matter, this implement follows him to the door, accelerates his progress down stairs, and giving him a parting bump on the sidewalk, shuts the front door and hops up stairs again. The papers pooh-poohed this contrivance, but it gained a first prize nevertheless.

A French apparatus for winding silk out of cocoons was also truly wonderful. While the cocoons are serenely enjoying their dinner or dreaming of the pains and pleasures of the world, a huge bobbin is quietly unravelling their interior department. They don’t know what has been going on till they turn around and see the silk dress which has been stolen from them.

We stopped for a moment before a condensed baker, and saw crackers and biscuit baked, buttered, and eaten by steam. This made us think of lunch. We selected the American Restaurant from the many within the inclosure, and entered.

We were politely handed chairs and a bill of fare. The chairs were low,—the bill must have been made out on the top of Sawyer’s Observatory, there was no other way to get it so high. The list was printed in three languages, and the customer was expected to pay in half a dozen languages, though only allowed to eat in an a b c. We drank a cup of tea, ate a biscuit, looked at the Beefsteak à la mode de Paris, and the Potatoes fricasse haute nouveate, sighed, and left our watches in pledge, while we sallied out to try to raise the amount of our bill on our life insurance.

After completing this negotiation at the International Insurance Bureau, we started for the Horticultural Building, but the

Model Cemetery

which we were obliged to pass, suited the state of our feelings so well that we paused to examine it.—We soliloquized:—

“In the midst of death we are in life,” said we originally,—“oh death, sweet death, in the midst of all this life are we reminded of thee;—in the excitement and the turmoil thy quietness is here. Lo, the labor of man’s hand and the production of man’s mind we find about us,—we look, we wonder, we admire, but what, what are these hands and minds to thee? Nothing; nothing save the dust which in thy mill——” We were interrupted by a THE UNDERTAKER’S
DRUMMER—A
DEAD BEAT.gentleman who approached us and invited us to invest in one of his patent coffins. He had any number of testimonials from parties who had used them, stating that under no consideration would they use any other. He said we might try one, and if we didn’t like it we needn’t feel compelled to keep it. He seemed very anxious to discover whether we had any sickly relatives. He took us through the undertaker’s department; showed us shrouds, sombre trappings, gold and silver trimmings, rosewood caskets, all the paraphernalia for a pleasant and comfortable send off. He escorted us through the marble yard, mentioned what kind of a tombstone he thought would best suit our condition, quoted verses of poetry which he thought would make suitable inscriptions, and was really so attentive and persistent that the truth dawned upon us at last;—he was placed there to talk visitors to death and brisken up business for the exhibitors.

He earned his salary,

whatever it was. He explained the system of cremation, and told us if we had any old aunts or grandmothers about the house to bring them down and he would take pleasure in demonstrating its beauties practically. He induced us to purchase three or four little coffins made from the wood in Independence Hall, to be worn as watch charms;—“very sensible mementos of the occasion,” said he.

It was by an almost superhuman effort that we broke from him at last,—we barely saved our lives,—that is all—we walked off a few yards and then—oh, intelligent reader, let us draw the veil!—we ourselves were carried to the Hospital.

CHAPTER VIII.
“THE GLOW.” ... Who helped and who enjoyed it.

We remained in the hospital three days. We did not die. Unfortunately for the purchasers of this work and our friend of the model cemetery, we would not die in Spring time. We were discharged on account of the crowded state of the institution. Visitors were beginning to discover that free board might be obtained, by stratagem, at the hospital, and the result was that a large proportion of our foreign guests found this climate very unhealthy. The doctors were cutting, dosing, and blistering, to their hearts’ content.

We re-entered the grounds with the intention of resuming our inspection where we had discontinued it, but we were subjected to a severe nervous shock the very morning of our reappearance.

The bones of two waiters from one of the restaurants, had been discovered in the bath-room of the Sandwich Island Commissioners, picked clean.HOKEE POKEE
WINKEE FUM. The gentlemen of the legation had entrapped these unsuspecting servitors, plunged them into hot water, boiled them red as lobsters, and then made a little feast of them, a reminder of their national banquets. After feeding upon the poor unfortunates, they strewed their bones about the apartment without the slightest regard for neatness or decency. Grief-stricken relatives recognized the remains by two false teeth and a glass eye which had not been consumed, and two weeping widows gathered up the bones, while five sobbing orphans scrubbed the floor clean. Our government immediately informed the court at Hawaii of this indiscretion on the part of its representatives, hinting that any repetition in the same quarter would be considered a gross breach of international etiquette.

This incident so affected us that we at once applied for readmission to the hospital. It was refused us, and we were obliged to lay off for two days at our boarding house. When we started out again we proceeded at once to

Agricultural Hall.

Our early progenitors having been tillers of the soil, the agricultural display brought to mind the days of our youth and “the old tabby cat that we threw in the well.” The turnips reminded us of the warm pressure of a parent’s hand; the early apples caused our thoughts to wander to the big peppermint bottle in the kitchen cupboard; in looking upon the luscious ox-heart cherries, we could imagine the bark of our neighbor’s dog; the parsnips brought to mind the face of our ancient school-mistress, the beets recalled to us her blessed ratan, and the sight of the onions finished up things by bringing tears to our eyes.

In addition to productions of the soil, this department contained much of the field machinery for which America is so justly famous—agricultural implements, from an oyster knife to a haywagon; farm stock, from a potato bug to a prize ox; kitchen garden preparations, from a rhubarb pie to a paregoric dumpling.

DOING THE
TROPICS.The building was divided into tropics. At one end the tropic of Cancer, named in honor of an American disease; at the other, the tropic of Capricorn, a cereal indigenous to our soil. The other seven tropics were sprinkled between, at regular intervals. The live stock exhibit, belonging to this portion of the Exposition, was most interesting. Little piggy-wiggies with their tails neatly tied in red, white, and blue ribbon; representatives of turkey and shanghai amicably sharing the same Indian meal; horses eating out of silver plated fodder boxes; colts chewing at rosewood hitching posts; animated mutton chops and undevilled kidneys calculated to make an epicure’s mouth water; goats, cows, calves, heifers, and most rare of all, real, genuine, spring chickens, the very sort which the poet has so touchingly described in his sweet lines

“You may fricassee, roast them, or stew, as you will,
But the scent of the egg shell will cling round them still.”

There was also connected with this department an aviary, containing specimens of agricultural birds, from a bee to an ostrich.

A little corner given up to old women and their herbs was so suggestive as to be painful; we steered clear of it and endeavored to rid our olfactories of the remembrance of catnip and senna, by hieing us to the birds, flowers, perfumes, and fountains of Horticultural Hall. On our way thither we passed

The Women’s Department.

We became aware of our approach to this sacred locality, by the Sabbath-like stillness which marked the vicinity. Into the pavilions no male foot was allowed to tread. The sides were of glass, and tickets merely conferred the privilege of looking through the transparent surface. We hinted in the preceding pages at some trouble concerning the erection of this building, and the ladies in a spirit of refined sarcasm, had made it a monument of man’s tyranny by building the wooden and iron work of broken broom handles, twisted pokers, and ruptured fire shovels.UNWARRANTED
LIBERTIES. The cement was mixed with handfuls of short human hair of variegated colors and various degrees of fineness.

Women from all parts of the world were here on exhibition. All colors, nationalities, styles, and complexions, were properly classified and arranged within their respective departments. Each woman was ticketed with a fancy label, on which was inscribed her name, age, nativity, weight, prominent qualities and general record. With a few exceptions in the Asiatic and African avenues, the women were ticketed

“These Goods Not For Sale.”

In the American District, there were some few notices such as

“Applying for a Divorce,
“Four months’ Widow,”
“Open for Negotiations.”

The greatest order and most systematic detail was everywhere observable. Each age, from eighteen to eighty years, had a separate district. Those exceeding the latter age were carefully packed away in the sub-cellar.

Electric wires being attached to each department, General Hawley sat comfortably in his office, and as he touched the springs, the women smiled, frowned, wept, and laughed in concert.

We remained gazing upon this interesting exhibit, until we felt the temptation to break through the glass growing too strong for us, when we continued our way and entered the building sacred to Flora and Pomona, or in other words

Horticultural Hall.

Pansies and violets! Sunflowers and forget-me-nots!! Rhododendrons and daffodils!!! Buttercups and dahlias!!!! Never, never, never, had such a thing been seen before. Every plant and every flower was labelled with its name and peculiarity, just like the women we had left. In some cases this did very well, in others it did very ill. Take, for instance, a single section—nay, but a small portion of the section, the hyacinth department, and see what hurt our feelings.

“Amy; dazzling carmine, large spike.”

“Duchess of Richmond; rose color; fine truss.”

“Mr. Macaulay; light green, thin, large truss, watery.”

“Maria Theresa; striped; perfect form.”

“Madame De Talleyrand; pure, large compact truss, extra fine bell.”

“Mrs. Beecher Stowe; very showy spike.”

“Anna Paulowna; deep; pure white eye, large truss,” and so on.

We know nothing whatever about either spike or truss, but we did not like this publicity of description one bit. Now, “Diebitsch Sabalkansky; brilliant carmine, late,” nobody cares about. It makes no difference to anybody save his wife, whether Mr. Sabalkansky is early or late in his habits; but to have the heroines of our dreams, like Mrs. Beecher Stowe and Anna Paulowna, ticketed so slightingly, was more than we could bear with equanimity.

We wandered for hours among the grand Victoria Regias, the sweet-scented Heparusa longifolios, the superb Gloxianas, the tiny Hopdedoodle calaboosas, and the stately Acacias. Fountains of rose-water splashed their sparkling drops among the dense and brilliant foliage; cataracts of soda-water scattered misty bicarbonate sprays upon the ornamental verdure. There were walks of shady palms, groves of graceful maples, African cedars, and South American vines. The hall, like the waist of Athen’s maid, was zone encircled. We paused for an instant beneath an India-rubber tree and gave full stretch to our imagination. We wondered what this world would be without flowers—a body without a soul. If the soul of man is God’s breath, the flowers are His smile. “Love flowers,” we said, imaginatively, to the people around us; “the promises of Heaven are written on their leaves. At births and marriages they are symbols of death, for with the fading sunlight they too fade; but white and pure upon the breast of the silent sleeper, ’tis life they typify, the life which knows no night—love flowers and teach your children to love them.”

Thinking of flowers and children brought to mind the

Swedish Nursery and Kindergarten

erected upon the grounds, and we resolved to visit it before nightfall.

We arrived there just in time to witness a good old-time spanking in the Swedish style, which is the Norway of doing it also. Both the delight and labor afforded the two participants in the operation seemed very unequally divided. We heard the schoolboy yell in Swedish, however, and learned how Swedish nightingales were made. The Swedish scholar is evidently not a model, though his school-house may be. But we must admit that the American youth surpasses all others in mischievous precocity. This fact was made painfully apparent just previous to the opening of the exhibition, in the trial of a little boy four years of age, son of one of the Park Guards, for larceny. Judge Finletter occupied the bench. We will insert

The Case.

The Park Commissioners furnish a certain quantity of old horse shoes, nails, and scraps of iron, semi-weekly, for the purpose of keeping the fountain of iron water in the Park up to the proper medicinal standard. This material is placed in the charge of one of the guards, YOUTHFUL
DEPRAVITY.and the lad had been in the habit of abstracting quantities of the metal and disposing of it, it was alleged, to the Phœnix Iron Works. This latter allegation is not yet proven. Should such be the fact, we must deploringly conclude that a large quantity of the iron used in the construction of the Girard Avenue Bridge was obtained from this source. We shall suspend judgment, however, and continue using the bridge as usual until the firm is heard from and the matter settled. The boy was hanged.

We obtained permission from the Superintendent of the Kindergarten to relate this little incident to young Sweden. We warned him against having Park guards for fathers, and demonstrated the pettiness of such a business as selling old iron, when the very highest price to be realized therefrom, under the most favorable circumstances and general state of commerce, is half a cent a pound. The children rose in a body when we had concluded and passed us a vote of thanks, so we left the establishment in the consciousness of duty well performed, and resolved to send our children of the future to Sweden to be kindergartened.

Next morning we started out very early, with the determination of proceeding at once to the Main Building to make a tour among the foreign exhibitors, but our progress was arrested by the most remarkable occurrence ever happening in a civilized country.

The day previous, Alderman Carpenter, of the Central Station, had invited

Prince Hadjee Sadi Curryhotte,

cousin of the Rajah of India, to drive with him through the Park. The Alderman having been the recipient of much attention from crowned heads during his recent visit to the old world, desired to reciprocate, hence the invitation. Most unfortunately, however, on approaching the Zoological Gardens, a train of cars rattled suddenly over the Pennsylvania Railroad Bridge. The horses became frightened, Carpenter lost control of the animals, the carriage was overturned, and Curryhotte, falling upon his head, was killed instantly. Of course this occurrence caused no surprise to Philadelphians. Upsets and “accidental deaths” in the Park from the same cause are looked for and expected at least three times a week; the trouble arose from the fact that the Prince had his wife in this country with him. As soon as she ascertained that she was a widow, she resolved upon a A BURNING
SHAME.suttee. She called her relatives and friends together and bade them get the funeral pile in readiness upon the

“Grand Plaza,”

where the fireworks are usually exhibited. The gentleman in charge of the model cemetery, already mentioned in these annals, was the only Caucasian informed of her intention, and he cheerfully colored his face, donned the flowing robes of a Brahmin, and accepted the appointment of Master of Ceremonies.

Imagine our astonishment at coming upon this scene. The fire was crackling merrily away, the corpse was frizzling a beautiful brown, and the assembled participants were singing Hindoo hymns. The Master of Ceremonies was standing at the head of the flames with the widow in his arms. He was waiting till her husband should be nearly gone before he chucked her on, in order to keep up the fun as long as possible.

“Stop! hold!!” we shouted, as soon as we could control enough breath to utter the sounds; “stop! We cannot allow any such proceedings—drop that woman.”

The Master of Ceremonies turned upon us fiercely—

“WHOSE FUNERAL
IS THIS?”“Whose funeral is this?” he asked ironically, and there was a wicked gleam in his eye which plainly indicated that he wasn’t going to be defrauded of his job without a struggle. “Go on with the music,” he added, turning to the Hindoos, who had ceased singing at the interruption, and he raised the widow in his arms ready for the throw. Our bosoms swelled; we were about to annihilate him, when chance intervened to save his life. Some rumor of the contemplated ceremony had reached the ears of the Park Commissioners. Naturally indignant that any such thing should take place in the Park, without their permission being first asked and obtained, they now came rushing upon the ground with their little fire engine, closely followed by the Insurance Patrol. In less time than it takes to record it, the widow was wrapped up in oil skin blankets, the natives were howling other than hymn tunes, and the fire and Master of Ceremonies were both put out by well-directed streams of water. The latter threatened vengeance. He was the most disappointed man we have ever seen.

Whether war with India will be the result of this interference in a national and religious custom, the future alone can tell. We proceeded upon our way, and entering the Centennial precincts, the world within the palings, we passed a week in inspecting the

Foreign Departments.

The foreign display within the Main Building was grand, that outside was grander still. Had our minds been one whit less strong, we should have been bewildered by the conglomeration.

Turkish kiosks, Chinese pagodas, Japanese pavilions, Arabian tents, Persian bazaars, Egyptian temples, Mohammedan mosques, Gypsy encampments, and American drinks, enough to confuse any one. Then monuments, booths, fountains, and cigar stands innumerable. We will give one day as an example of our travels.

We enter an Egyptian structure and behold an oriental barber shaving one of his countrymen. Egypt cannot teach us anything about shaving our countrymen; we do not linger here. As we leave the building a Russian britzska, a carriage invented especially for the use of spelling bees, dashes by us drawn by the very cream of Tartar steeds. We catch on behind until we reach a Persian bazaar. We gaze upon the long bearded native men, and the white shrouded native women, busily engaged in their national occupation of going to sleep, and become wrapped up in the shawls of imagination. We are aroused by a wailing outside, cries of grief mingled with curses and lamentations in choice Persian and gum Arabic. The cause of this wailing was soon made evident.

Little Johnny Shah,

heir-apparent to the throne of Persia, in a laudable thirst for knowledge, offered a piece of cake to one of the young lions in the Zoological Gardens. He wished to find out how old he was, by his teeth. The experiment will not affect the scientific world as much as it did the young Persian. That lion may still be seen picking finger-nails out of his teeth, and as all loyal subjects in Persia are expected to do as their sovereign does, a dispatch sent to Teheran announced the pleasing intelligence, that under the next Shah it would be the fashion to wear but half a finger and a thumb on the left hand. We remain awhile to share the grief of the stricken father and seventeen mothers, and then resume our pilgrimage.

We pause for a moment before the French restaurant, enraptured, looking at the pretty girls and other dainties served up there. We decline the invitation of a Chinese drummer, hanging around to inveigle parties into the restaurant established by his country, with a long rigmarole about “kittens fried in castor oil,” and enter the Main Hall.

We land in the desert of Sahara, but desert Sahara and step over to Spain. We look for bright-eyed señoritas, with black lace veils and stringless guitars; we have been educated to expect this in Spain, by the ladies of the “International Tea Party.” WE SEE NO
SEÑORITAS.We are disappointed; we find a few men who look as if they had walked all the way from Madrid, selling wine, fruit, and olive oil. We pass through Portugal; more wine, fruit, and olive oil. We hop through Japan, change a ten cent note for a bushel of their “hard money,” and sachey on. We linger for hours in fair France, principally in the Paris department. We saunter through Austria, stopping to speak a word of complimentary encouragement to the Emperor, who looks a little down-hearted, evidently thinking of Vienna; then through Germany and Switzerland, until we reach Great Britain.

She is gay and festive. She exhibits models of all her public buildings, among the most interesting being the tower in which Anna Bowlegs was decapitated. The order of this lady’s garter too is very curious, and is exhibited, together with her marriage certificate. The only article sold in this department is

Windsor Soap,

put up in neat boxes, fac similes of the castle in which its peculiar properties were first discovered. Victoria and the girls are faithful attendants at the table. They are assisted by Mr. John Bright, the eminent proprietor of a popular kidney disease, and also by the Chief of our Fire Department, who is suspiciously attentive to the oldest of the ladies. We end up our day’s travels in Russia. The tardy participation of this power was attributed in some quarters to the exertions of a Mrs. Catacrazy, who was offended by a Washington lady, and took this means, it is said, of “getting even.” Such is not the fact. The cause was, briefly, as follows:—

Prince Gortschakoff

visited this country incognitoA STATE
SECRET. a short time ago, and of course passed a few days in Philadelphia. One day, leisurely walking through East Park, with his clay pipe in his mouth and his shillalah in his hand, he carelessly broke a small spray of green from a bush by the wayside and stuck it in his hat. A careful Park guard saw him and arrested him at once, on a charge of malicious mischief. The Prince remonstrated in choice Russian. The guard, pretending not to understand him, answered in Chaldaic, and dragged him before Magistrate Smith. He was fined five dollars for destroying the shrubbery and ten dollars for speaking disrespectfully to a Park guard. When it was discovered who the offender was, Mr. Wm. M. Bunn, in his capacity as Guardian of the Poor, at once paid the fine. Mr. Bunn explained to the Prince what a valuable country this was, when a foreigner is obliged to pay five dollars for a single green sprig.

Gortschakoff gratefully presented Mr. Bunn with the order of the “Golden Fleece,” and regretted that he hadn’t another to bestow upon the magistrate.

This and this alone was the cause, and we tell it confidentially to our countrymen.

The tardiness, however, did not materially affect either the exhibit of Russia or the success of the Exposition. Indeed, the French visitors freely asserted that the Exhibition far surpassed the Vienna fair of ’72, and the German guests boldly declared, with a unanimous voice, its superiority to the Paris Exhibition of ’67.

CHAPTER IX.
“THE FLICKERING.” ... How it dimmed and how it brightened.

Father Time seemed to be the only Philadelphian who did not deviate from his ordinary course of life during the Exhibition months. He continued sowing and reaping as usual; cutting the blooming flowers from the stem of the year, and counting the sands which carried with them into oblivion, gradually but surely, exhibition, visitors, commissioners, and restaurant keepers. But though his children were unable to prolong a single passing moment, they managed to crowd into each day as much novelty and excitement as would ordinarily suffice for a twelvemonth, and they got the better of the old man in this way.

To attempt a record of one tithe of the many occurrences deserving immortalization at our hands, would be to meet with failure as complete as that which attended the experiment of Mr. Charles Airy, of Georgia, with his flying-machine, upon the third day of June, 1876.

This young man had communicated with that eminent scientist, Mayor Stokley, about a year previous to the attempt. The Mayor, who delights in encouraging genius of all kinds, promised his countenance to a trial trip of the machine at Philadelphia during the Centennial year.

“I will go with you,” he promised, “I, myself, will ascend with you into the illimitable ether; together will we make the attempt, together will we share the glory.”

This fact becoming known, Messrs. Daniel Dougherty and George Francis Childs, anxious to imitate so noble an example, entered their names, too, upon the ship’s books for the voyage. Airy was happy, and his happiness became delirious joy when, a week previous to the date of departure, he received another application worded as follows:—

SOARING
GENIUS.“I long to soar above this world of trials. False outwardness weighs upon my heart; the scent of earth smothers the zephyrean impulses of my soul. Take me with you. Yon, yon, into that blissful atmospheric belt where hay-fevers are unknown.

“Confidingly yours,
“H. W. B.”

The report of the coming trial of this air-ship spread rapidly throughout the land. Scientific men, railroad agents, and rapid transit speculators arrived in flocks and examined and re-examined the various rods, wires, screws, governors, pistons, cogs, gauges, and cranks. The newspapers, too, were lavish with preparatory puffs. Fate willed, however, that they should not be strong enough to blow success.

The machine was constructed in the shape of an American eagle with outstretched wings. A neat little boudoir was fitted up for passengers between the ribs, and a refrigerator for provisions was suspended from the beak.

The eventful morning arrived and saw an immense concourse of people at the foot of Sawyer’s Observatory, from the summit of which the experimental flight was to be made at 10 o’clock precisely. At that hour the inventor was on hand, attired in pink tights and spangles. A note was handed to him by Mr. Sawyer; he read it aloud to the assemblage—

HE COMETH
NOT.“My Dear Airy: I am unable to rise even from my bed, so of course can’t go up with you to-day. The doctor has just examined my silvery tongue, and bids me stay at home. He thinks I have been high enough this week, and says, jocosely, having been on a lark I had better ‘shoot the eagle.’ I lie here as I write you this note. Better luck next time.

“Dougherty.”

Airy was disappointed, and his countenance grew longer when a second note quickly followed the first:—

“Sad and broken are my spirits. I am out of heart to-day, for my hope of flying with you has itself just flown away. My young man has left the office, gone to meet his brother Jim, I must take the advertisements, hitherto received by him. Were I not tied to my Ledger—free upon my native wilds, naught but death could keep me from you.

“Ever yours,
“George Francis Childs.”

“Never mind,” sighed Airy, “as long as Stokley sticks by me, I don’t care.” But alas, the hour for starting came and passed, and Stokley put in no appearance. Another hour winged its silent flight, and the people below grew impatient. Thirty minutes more, and the Mayor was still among the wanting. Twelve o’clock pealed simultaneously from the restaurant clocks, always half an hour fast, and the inventor had sadly made up his mind to start alone, when a figure waving a red handkerchief appeared upon the brow of George’s Hill. “Ah,” shouted Airy, “Stokley at last—I knew he’d come.”

The figure hurried on, but soon those upon the Observatory could see that it was not the Mayor. ’Twas a more ponderous form, bare-headed, with a wealth of silver locks floating in the wind.

“Wait for me,” it cried, “oh wait for me, I pray!” and ten minutes later the great Plymouth preacher stood grasping Airy by the hand.

“Let smiles, like summer buds, adorn the pastures of thy face—I’m here!”

There was a bustle in the crowd, and the people cheered and cheered again, when it became evident that the wonderful machine was soon to move. The passenger was handed into the boudoir, and the inventor, getting astride of the metallic bird, tucked his coat tails beneath its sacred wings. The excitement below was intense.

“I will wait five minutes more for Stokley,” said Mr. Airy; “he will be so disappointed if he finds I have started without him.”

Suddenly the telegraphic wires attached to the bird’s tail began to work;—a message from Stokley at last.

“Can’t come; wife won’t let me—bon voyage—Bill.”

“Let go the ropes,” shouted Airy.

The strings were cut from the eagle’s talons, and the great machine with a rush and a flutter, rose majestically five hundred feet in the air, and—majestically staid there. Then the intrepid rider began hunting for the screw designed to effect a downward motion, and the passenger in the boudoir began to look pale and anxious. The crowd below saw a little man frantically jerking at wires and springs, turning screws and varying gauges, and a metallic eagle stationery in the air above them.

The inventor’s exertions were in vain; the machine wouldn’t go up and wouldn’t come down. There hung the noble bird with its noble freight, like Mahomet’s coffin, ’twixt earth and heaven. Night fell and the eagle didn’t. The pale moon rose up slowly and calmly, she looked down, and her man seemed to be laughing at the unfortunate aeronauts. A week passed, and the refrigerator being empty, it was dropped from the bird’s beak in the hope of effecting a change of position;—but all in vain. That machine became an object of exclusive interest, and hundreds of plans were devised for reaching it, but without avail. YE GALLANT TAR
AND HIS MORTAR.Mortars were brought from the Navy Yard and provisions were shot up to the inventor, and bouquets and slippers to his companion. A loaf of rye bread hit the proud American eagle in the eye, and a veal cutlet knocked out the passenger’s front teeth. On the twelfth day of their elevation, a rope two miles long, manufactured expressly for the purpose, was tied around the body of a young porker. Piggy was then shot up from a mortar aimed by Mr. A. E. Borie, whose experience as Secretary of the Navy made him best fitted for the delicate and important task. The choice was well made; the porker landed in the passenger’s lap and was clasped to his bosom in a convulsive embrace. Then a discussion arose in the air ship as to which of the twain should be first lowered. A penny was tossed, and of course the passenger won. The haggard inventor sighed and submitted to the decree of fate. But the moment the great preacher was out of the machine, while he yet dangled in air, it collapsed, and before the pitying and astounded crowd could utter the cry which rose to its lips, the wonderful aerial ship was a ton of old metal and straps, strewed about the Centennial grounds. The passenger came down, as he does all things, gracefully, and was caught in the outstretched arms of a delegation of his flock. Mr. Airy was shipped back to Georgia in sunburnt sections, just as he was found, a leg to-day, a thumb to-morrow, and a nose next week. They were still receiving small consignments of him at headquarters at last accounts. Coroner’s verdict:—“Too much gas in the balloon to allow it to come down, and not enough to carry it up higher.”

This failure cast a gloom over the exhibition, which was not dispelled until the 21st day of the month, when the great “cricket match” was inaugurated.

This was an interesting occasion, long anticipated in sporting circles. The celebrated “Newhall Eleven” was to be pitted against the “All Comers Eleven,” for the championship of America, a silver belt and a tin water vessel in the shape of a pocket flask.

The game was called at five o’clock in the morning, upon the International cricket ground in the rear of Horticultural Hall. The “Newhall Eleven” was sent to the bat, Hen and Bill having charge of the wickets, with Herb Meade and Pop Beer attending to the bowls.

Henry began by drawing his leg for one, and continued this surgical operation by drawing his arm for another one, which made two. Bill started off and lost his stump, which was picked up by Pop Beer, who regretted to find it out. Pete Newhall then came in. By a hit to square leg he made four, and by a miss to round leg, six. The game now became exciting. Three leg bails and two leg byes were scored on Herb Meade, who after following with two wides and one narrow, was relieved by Joe Large. He began with a maiden who brought in a SINGLES, DOUBLES,
AND TRIPLETS.single, double, and triplets in quick succession. Hen Newhall was caught out by Beer, and his brother Tim came to the scratch confident and fresh as a daisy. He gave evidence of careful training, and got in a good cut with his pocket knife. He followed this with a drive through the park, after which several more maidens were gallantly picked up by Messrs. Outerbridge and Wirebridge, when, the crowd being asleep, the continuation of the game was postponed until the next day.

Tim Newhall retired gracefully on a squirmer, and Ike came in on a check, opening with a splendid hit under the ropes beyond the bottle holder, scoring four. Joe Large here burnt his fingers on a hot liner, and Ike, by a hit between long leg and short leg, scored another two. The bowlers were then changed for Messrs. Caldwell and Calledill, and the game proceeded.

The Newhall Eleven continued gallivanting among maidens and wides and byes, until they had scored 202, when the selected eleven went in. They could do nothing, however, against the heavy Newhall bowling. Large, Small, and Medium went out in one, two, three, order. Caldwell caught a ball between his teeth and held it there while he made twenty-three runs, winning the tin flask for the best individual score, but beyond this the play was weak.

We shall not attempt a chemical analysis of the bowling, but merely give the following record of runs, which contains all that is historical—the result.

“Newhall Eleven.”
	Runs.
George Newhall	20
Sam. Newhall	19
Hen Newhall	18
Bill Newhall	17
Ike Newhall	18
Tim Newhall	19
Pete Newhall	18
Bob Newhall	19
Dave Newhall	17
Ed. Newhall	17
Oldhall himself	20
Total	202
“Selected Eleven.”
	Runs.
Joseph Large	0
Ephraim Small	0
Manassah Medium	0
John Outerbridge	15
Jim Innerbridge	14
Fred Wirebridge	13
Herb Meade	5
Pop Beer	4
Jake Caldwell	23
Moe Calledill	11
Abe Rooster	2
Total	87

In compliance with the request of the Executive Committee, this was the only inning played. Too many foreign visitors lost their fortunes in betting to admit of a continuance.

The day after this match things looked gloomy again. The Philadelphia Rifle Club, designing to take part in the International Shooting Match in September, went out to the Park to practise, taking the shield-like boards containing the Park Regulations for targets. In seven minutes four little children were shot dead. ’Tis true they were very little children, and their parents had plenty more of the same kind at home; still the occurrence was unpleasant. Fortunately the Park Commissioners interfered with this mode of practising before any of the sign-boards had been injured.

An American Camp Meeting and a Mock Battle were the other principal novelties which filled out the programme of the week. We stayed away from the camp-meeting on principle—they kept perpetually passing the contribution box, so of course we know nothing of it, and were not benefited by it. THE DIN
OF WAR.The mock battle, however, was entirely in our line. We come from old Revolutionary stock. The powder box is among our earliest recollections, and we cut our first teeth on bullets. A really first-class mock battle thrills us to the core. We are ready to look on at any time.

The militia encamped in the vicinity of Belmont, and formed during some months of the Exposition, a most attractive feature. The boys, in neat white tents, with carpeted floors, walnut furniture, and spring-chicken breakfasts, endured all the luxuries of real camp-life. They were compelled to rise at eight o’clock every morning, black their boots, brush their hair, and prepare to meet their lady friends. At 2 P. M. the roll was called, and every man was required to report for dinner; after which, the army drove around the Park in carriages supplied by the Commissioners. Foreign commanders of all grades and nationalities pronounced them the cleanest, neatest, jauntiest lot of heroes they had ever seen. Small wonder that the boys wanted a fight!

The battle was to be followed by a hop. Special invitations by Dreka, on tinted paper adorned with suitable monograms, were sent to the lady acquaintances of the warriors taking part. The ground was well sprinkled with saw-dust for the convenience and protection of the dying and the dead.

At eight A. M., the boys having risen an hour earlier than usual, Col. R. Dale Benson entered the ring and rode around it three times at break-neck speed, amid the tremendous plaudits of a tremendous crowd. In one hand he carried the stars and stripes; in the other, his unsheathed sword. His horse’s bridle he held between his teeth. With a final “Houp La,” he vanished behind the screen. General Wagner, who commanded the opposing party, then rode in, bowed to the audience, and placed a chip of wood on his left shoulder. Benson returned, minus the flag, and boldly knocked the chip off. THE COMBAT DEEPENS—
ON, YE BRAVES!This was the signal for the fray. Drums were beat, trumpets sounded; the crowd applauded, children shrieked, women fainted, and amid all the din,—

“Forth from the canvas tent,
Marched the First Regiment,”

while from the opposite side of the field, the Second Regiment and the Jersey Blues approached, preceded by the West Point Drum Corps. Around from the left wing, cautiously moving forward, came the Keystone Battery, each swarthy gunner with a camelia in his button-hole, while the City Troop, bouncing upon their martial steeds, came gaily from the right. Suddenly their captain, Rogers, rushed to the centre of the arena. He waved his sword on high.

“Forward, the Light Brigade—Charge for the guns,” he said; and, quick as thought, the swarthy gunners were flying like chaff before the wind.

And now broke out the dread roll of musketry, and the air was obscured by the terrible smoke of war. The First Regiment fired four volleys in quick succession, to make the smoke thick, and then fell flat to the ground. Meantime, the Jersey Blues dashed forward with fixed bayonets to recapture the battery and return it to the swarthy gunners, who were now distributed around various parts of the Park. The nervous excitement among the lookers-on became almost too great to bear. Don Carlos of Spain, who was on the grand stand, pulled off his coat and was only restrained from jumping into the ring through the exertions of General Grant, whose own pulse was beating high.

The smoke cleared away, and then leapt into the mêlée the star of the entertainment, General Philip Sheridan, standing erect upon his bare-backed steed. Shout upon shout greeted his appearance, and it was fully five minutes before the audience would allow the battle to proceed.

The City Troop stood immovable before the gleaming bayonets of their assailants; the First and Second Regiments popped away at each other with blank cartridges, and General Sheridan, alone in the centre of the field, uttered the wild blood-curdling WHOOP!whoop which he had learned from the savages, and which stands him in such good service in his married life. Few women could brave a whoop like that.

Such was the position of the field, and victory seemed doubtful upon which banner to perch.

“Surrender!” shouted the Captain of the Jersey Blues.

“Never!” thundered Rogers of the Troop.

“Whoop! whoop!” came thrillingly from the lungs of Sheridan.

“Advance in solid square and flank them on both ends,” commanded Benson of the doughty First.

“Open ranks, trap them into your centre and then close about them,” ordered Col. Neff, of the Invincible Second.

“Whoop! whoop! whoop!” yelled Little Phil.

“Hold one moment,” sounded a deep full voice above all the rest, the voice of Sherman, the umpire; “who’s to win this battle? It’s past lunch time and I should like the thing decided.”

At the word “lunch,” a change came o’er the scene.

“We surrender,” remarked Rogers.

“Whoop!” shouted Sheridan for the last time, and Col. Benson, mounting one of the guns, crowed lustily. The warriors, covered with sawdust and glory, then mingled with the crowd; and when we left the ladies were busily engaged brushing the former from the uniforms of their favorites, who were modestly receiving the latter in the congratulations of all around them.

We didn’t wait for the hop, but learned that it was as satisfactory as the military display.

And so passed the time until that day of days, the Fourth of July, 1876. One hundred thousand Americans, who had not taken part in their country’s first birth-day celebration, resolved to atone for that neglect upon this occasion. Statues were to be unveiled, fountains dedicated, salutes fired, and fireworks exploded. An enthusiastic astronomer predicted that the sun would rise an hour earlier than the regulation time for the season upon this great day and his augury proved correct.

At four o’clock A. M. the Mayor of the city, who, with the members of Councils, had slept upon the grounds, entered the Main Exhibition Hall, read a few chapters of the Bible from the top of the southeastern tower, and finished up with his usual proclamation forbidding the firing of guns and pistols other than those specially ordered for the salutes. A selected choir of mysterious pilgrims then sang a choice collection of hymns.

At the conclusion of this religious exercise, free lunch and forty thousand loaves of bread were distributed from the steps of Memorial Hall. It was an imposing sight to behold the long line of visitors, who were living here on the European plan, with their tin-pails and baskets, waiting for the loaves and soup.

At seven o’clock the Liquor Dealers’ Protective Union proceeded to the Catholic Temperance Fountain, and dedicated the same with appropriate ceremonies. The president of the T. A. B.’s turned on the cock, and for the first half hour the magnificent fountain spouted sparkling streams of golden whisky,A GOOD
TURN. generously supplied as a pleasant surprise by the Protective Union.

The statue of Christopher Columbus, the jolly salt previously mentioned in this history, was next to be unveiled. It was serenaded by an orchestra of eighty hand-organs, after which the Italian societies and citizens were addressed in their native tongue by the Italian Minister to the United States. He commenced, naturally, with a glowing eulogy upon his immortal countryman—

“Sono rare e fugaci le occasioni grandi, ed è pudenza e magnanimita, quando si offeriscono, l’accettarle,” said he, “and the noble man, whose statue reared by loving hands now stands beneath that veil, took his tide at its flood. Ill mondo è un bel libro, ma poco serve a chi non lo sa leggere, but ’twas a book which was plain to him, a book which he had read, an open page which he had studied.

“Ill sangue nobile è un accidente della fortuna; le azioni nobili carratterizzano il grande. No title greeted his coming to the world, but he left at his exit a name which still lives freshly on every tongue, while hundreds of potentates and their titles are forever buried in oblivion. Raise, raise the veil and let his features smile upon us.”

Amid cheers and vivas, the veil was raised; when lo—the committee had made a mistake, and instead of Columbus, the statue of Religious Liberty erected by the Jewish order of B’nai B’rith was exposed to view. The Italian minister was disgusted, and so were the Jewish lodges when they arrived and found their statue already unveiled. They arranged matters amicably, however, and started off with the sons of sunny Italy to discover the great discoverer and let off their speeches at the base of his monument. At ten o’clock there was a grand military review, of which we will spare our readers the account, and at twelve precisely the International Concert in the open air was inaugurated with a symphony by twenty thousand string instruments. Most of the people thought the musicians were just tuning up, so of course the symphony was a success. At its conclusion an awful and unexpected sound startled the assemblage. The earth trembled, and the towering trees bent their haughty heads to earth. The Messrs. Krupp of Prussia, had fired off their mammoth gun. As soon as the report reached police headquarters, a posse under command of Chief Jones started for the grounds and arrested the Messrs. Krupp, their engineers and firemen, for violating the Mayor’s proclamation. They passed the remainder of the day in the cells at Fifth and Chestnut Streets. After the excitement caused by this proceeding had subsided, the concert was continued.

The national hymn of each country was rendered by its native artists in appropriate costumes, all at the same time. The Mukdeesha Warblers from the Eastern shore of Africa, made the most noise; and the English singers in their affecting anthem “God shave the Queen,” made the most music.

It was four o’clock P. M. before the last howl died on the summer air, and then the crowds began moving towards the “Grand Plaza.” Here the display of FIREWORKS—
HEREDITARY TALENT.fireworks was to take place under the direction of Professor Jackson, son of the Professor Jackson who directed the famous fireworks at New Orleans some years previously. One large piece was erected in honor of each State in the Union, and one in honor of each Nation represented in the Exposition. We make a few extracts from the programme (printed on white satin) which was handed to each attendant at the “Plaza,” young and old, rich and poor.

21. The City of Philadelphia:—A large Quaker with broad-brimmed hat in blue and gold. His feet represent, respectively, Philadelphia and West Philadelphia, with the Schuylkill River, at white heat, flowing between. The tip of his hat typifies the State House steeple, and Seybert’s bell will ring inside while the piece is burning.

40. The Exhibition Buildings:—Gold, silver, and currency flames, with violet lights in relief. The commissioners in red, white, and blue, with stars darting from their eyes, distributed judiciously through the piece.

54. The Lion and the Eagle lying down together:—Symbolic of the peace ’twixt England and America. N.B. The Eagle is inside of the Lion.

72. Pearls beyond Price:—A golden oyster opens and emits in order the coats of arms of the thirteen original States.

84. A good Puff:—A mammoth cigar, which, shedding its outer wrapper, will reveal the form and features of General Grant in blue blazes.

GETTING
HOME.At 5.15 o’clock, Professor Jackson thanked the Lord that all his preparations were completed; at 5.20 the Lord responded with the heaviest shower of rain witnessed since the deluge. It exceeded Mr. Jackson’s usual showers, in the same proportion as this spectacular effort was to have exceeded his former pyrotechnic exhibitions. The fire-works were turned to water-works, and the crowd sadly and slowly worked its passage home.

CHAPTER X.
“THE SMOKE.” ... How it went up.

Sere and yellow grows the leaf in these closing pages of our volume, and in now recording the last doings in connection with the Exposition, we would have such a splendid opportunity for enlarging upon the mutability of mundane affairs, that we regret having neither the space nor contract for moralizing. We feel that we could say something striking, something original, something to be remembered on the reader’s deathbed, as a balm and consolation—but alas, prosaic publishers forbid; they will not allow us to inscribe words which might make death appear desirable.

On the tenth day of September the charge for admission to the Exposition was reduced one-half for the time of its continuance. This action occasioned a great influx of European nobility and gentry, parties who had been waiting for the reduction, and the extreme capacity of the various steamship lines was taxed for their accommodation. Baron Rothschild, Baroness Burdett Coutts, and the Marquis of Lorne were among those who gave a new spurt of brilliancy to the affair. The poor Greeks came too, during these months, and their eminent countryman A. T. Stewart also made his first appearance upon the grounds.

By this time most of the potentates had departed. We had become so used to affecting farewells, that the tears started voluntarily to our eyes whenever we chanced to hear a steamboat bell or a locomotive whistle. Only one of the potentates left without paying his hotel bill, a most gratifying fact. We refrain from mentioning his name out of consideration for his family.

Things in general, out upon the grounds and in the buildings, began to look seedy, and the combined action of the Chinese and Japanese Commissioners, in summarily shutting up their portion of the show and going home, was productive of a general feeling of listlessness, a sort of forewarning of the end. We are sure that everything was done that could be done to please these pigtailed and pig-headed Celestials, but the fact is, the old boy himself couldn’t satisfy them. We have no desire to record anything harsh, but we deem it our plain duty to state clearly, for the vindication of our beloved country in the eyes of posterity, what really occasioned this sudden move.

Every candid reader will admit that it could by no possibility prove an easy task to supply, for the many varieties of visitors of such different tastes and habits, a full and liberal allowance of palatable food, such as that to which they had been accustomed. After the episode of the Sandwich Island Commission which we have noted, the gentlemen of this delegation were given free run of the anatomical departments of Jefferson Medical College and the University, and the Executive Committee congratulated itself that they, at least, were provided for. And so they were. No more waiters were missed during the entire time of their stay. But suddenly, there was a revolution at the “Globe Hotel” and a mutiny at the “Transcontinental.”

Day after day had the stewards of these hotels scoured the Callowhill Street, the Spring Garden Street, the Girard Avenue, and all the city markets with terrier dogs and shotguns, hunting ratsGIVE ’EM
RATS! to be served to the Celestials at their establishments. Traps, too, were placed under each stall; in short every luxury the markets afforded in this line was prepared for them, and the products of thousands of private traps were generously donated by patriotic citizens, and yet the supply was not equal to the demand. Our visitors found a peculiar fascinating flavor in the American rat, and it became absolutely impossible to satisfy them. Then, too, the candles at these hostelries disappeared in a rapid and mysterious manner. Mysterious until one fatal Wednesday evening, when a Mandarin of the first rank, who was entitled to wear six swords and able to swallow the half dozen at once, and who consequently ought to have known better, was discovered with a box of penny dips under his flowing robes, making his way stealthily up the cellar steps at the “Globe.” The very same evening a great commotion was raised at the “Transcontinental” by the discovery of Gail Hamilton’s lapdog, stewed in kerosene oil, in the private chamber of the Secretary of the Chinese delegation. As might be expected, the visitors joined cause, braved the thing out, and declared that they were being starved, and were forced to this action to sustain life. Then, packing up their goods, they left indignantly in a body.

Reunions and conclaves, however, and meetings of national and international, social, philanthropic, medical and scientific bodies, kept things tolerably lively, and the month of October was really brilliant. There was a horse show, a cattle show, a dog show, and a poultry show. There was to have been a baby show too. In fact, it was announced and arranged, but was broken up on the very day of opening by a terrible battle among the mothers.THE BATTLE OF
THE MOTHERS.

This battle was consequent upon the arrival of a

MRS. McDUFF,

with a red-headed and cross-eyed infant.

“Begurra, what are ye doin’ here? go home wid ye,” was her greeting to the fond mammas seated in the live-stock yard of the Pennsylvania R. R. Co. with their babies in their arms. “What’s the good o’ ye a sittin’ here, compating wid me Mickey?—arrah, luk at the child and tell me where’s his ekul—sure there’s nary one among ye has a baby fit to go ’longside o’ him, wid his beautiful awburn hair and the shwate smile atwixt his eyes—go home wid ye, go home!”

And, rolling up her sleeves she improvised a war dance.

After four buckets of gore had been spilled, the managers adjourned the exhibition, giving every survivor, without exception, a gold medal. Under the circumstances this was their wisest possible action.

Of all the live-stock exhibitions the dog show was the most successful. The International Exposition would have been sadly wanting in completeness if the faithful companion of man had been denied a place and recognition within its hallowed precincts. He had a place. The R. R. Drove Yards were arranged in tiers, after the style of La Scala at Milan, only, instead of accommodating but thirty-six hundred spectators, the drove yards accommodated, easily, as many thousands. We know of nothing to which this show can be likened save the dog pound in August. Wherever the lorgnette or opera glass was directed, spaniels, poodles, bloodhounds, terriers, pointers, setters, and bone-crunchers of every species, from the board yard mongrel who never earned an honest meal, to the noble St. Bernard who saves a life every morning before breakfast; from the lady’s pet with his golden collar, to the pugilist’s bull-dog with his iron chain, met the gaze and bewildered the senses. Every dog had his day with him, tied up in tissue paper, and it was a pleasing sight to notice—at a distance—the wistful eye with which many of the canines followed the forms of plump visitors, and the broad grin with which they greeted a well-developed thigh.

The International Regatta

was the last affair of prominence, save the distribution of prizes, directly connected with the Exposition.

During the entire Spring and Summer our local boat clubs had been in active training, sitting on the ornamental balconies of their houses, smoking good cigars and telling bad jokes; but they generously vied with one another in the attention bestowed upon visiting clubs, sustaining well the reputation for hospitality usually accorded to jolly watermen.

The 12th day of the month was the great day of the Regatta, the sports opening with a single scull race between the commodores of the leading American navies.

Early in the morning Commodore Ferguson, of the Schuylkill Navy, might have been seen cruising up and down the river, in his flag-ship, the old frigate “Constitution.” In one hand he held a long stick with a hook at the end, which he used for fishing old boots, hats, and other obstructions from the stream; in the other he held a pair of opera glasses. These he raised now and then to his weatherbeaten eye, inspecting ratline, spar, spike, mast, shroud, windlass, and jib-boom of the fleet under his command. The fish from the river had been removed temporarily to the aquaria in the Zoological Gardens, and the Turbine wheels were reversed to pump water into the river from the reservoir, so that the boats might not run aground too easily. Both sides of the river, along the entire course, from the Steamboat landing to Rockland, were actually lined with spectators. Ensigns, pennants, signal flags, and streamers were flying from every available point, and old Sol smiled down graciously from above, with his time honored face newly burnished for the occasion, and reflecting its own happiness in the splashing water-drops below.

First in position was James Gordon Bennett of New York, stripped to the waist, with only a scarf of Scotch plaid thrown negligently about his editorial form. This poor young man makes his living by rowing and walking matches, literally the sweat of his brow, and the sympathies of the crowd were with him. He was in a paper boat, made of old “Heralds” and weighing just nine pounds. On his left was Mr. Lorillard, in a skiff made of pressed tobacco leaves. Occasionally he leaned over to the edge of his boat and bit a piece out. Commodore Forbes of Boston, was seated in the identical boat used by Paul Revere when he rowed from Lexington to Boston to give that alarm Mr. Longfellow wrote about, and Commodore Kingsland had a silver boat. His colors were blue, and he looked his colors all over when he glanced towards Bennett. Commodore Dickinson of Brooklyn, was accompanied by his sister, Anna E., as coxswain; this being required of him on account of the family light weight; his colors were green.

At precisely half past ten, Commodore Ferguson fired a brick into the riverWHO FIRED
THAT BRICK?, which was the signal agreed upon, and the half score of contestants, after the usual salute, dipped their oars and made such a splendid start that it was vociferously encored.

Secretary Robeson took the lead, closely followed by Bennett, the latter being hotly pressed by Forbes of Boston. Then McGinnis of St. Louis, made a spurt, got alongside of the “Herald,” which was soaking up water like a sponge. The race was now bow to bow for a few seconds, when O’Brien of Chicago, got rapidly forward. Robeson would still have had a good lead if the boats had been on the return trip. Opposite the Girard Bridge Commodore O’Shaughnessy of Baltimore, fouled Commodore Riley of New Orleans, and the other contestants being in the rear, the race narrowed down to Bennett, Lorillard, Forbes, and McGinnis. Near the Columbia Bridge, McGinnis ran his penknife through Forbes of Boston’s tub, and though Lorillard promptly tendered a plug from his vessel to stop the leak, this delayed all but the irrepressible Bennett, who won the race in 23 minutes 33½ seconds. This, strangely enough, was the same result which had been published in the “N. Y. Herald” that same morning, five hours before the race began.

There remains now but little more to record. “Screw up your courage to the sticking point” (sticking things into the fire), for we shall soon part, mayhap to meet no more in print. We are happily permitted, however, before concluding, to add weight to the oft-repeated assertion that HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF. Let sceptics reading what follows, change the current of their unbelieving thoughts.

Now the end of the days of the Exposition was drawing nigh, and it came to pass that the chief of all the city’s people dreamed a dream.

And lo, in this dream he beheld a man sitting lonely upon a lump of frozen water; his features were set and stern in mould, and icicles dangled from the tips of his fingers and his nose.

AND THE VOICE
SAID “WOE!”And it seemed to the chief that he heard in his dream a voice, and the voice said, “Woe!”

Yea, “woe to those who have done this thing, who have placed me here in this frigid spot and forgotten my existence.”

“When they die may their noses long for icicles and long in vain, may their parched tongues cleave into the gum roofing of their mouths, and in their misery may they think of me.”

And the chief man rose up early in the morning and summoned before him, Mr. Sansom, the interpreter of the court, and related to him his dream.

But the interpreter shrugged his shoulders, and muttering, “nix firstay,” he retired to his studies of the mystic and the profound.

But it happened that when the city’s organs published the dream, the minds of men reverted to their solicitor in the vaults of the Knickerbocker Ice Co., and the interpretation of the dream was clear.

And the hearts of men were moved to pity and impulses of compassion, and they desired that the incarcerated man might view the fading glories, which in their brilliancy, had gladdened his fellow-citizens.

And the chief called his counsellors together, and Bardsley the son of his father rose up and spoke. “Listen, ye pilgrims, to the words of wisdom which fall like wild honey and locusts of the wilderness from my lips!”

“Behold, the days of the Exposition are not yet quite done; it is still unsafe to risk this man’s attendance thereat; but lo, I would suggest a plan whereby we may display in safety our compassion.

“Let him ascend to the top of Sawyer’s Observatory, and from thence look down upon the grounds, even as Moses of old looked down from Nebo’s Height upon the Holy Land.”

Yes, reader, it seems almost beyond belief that the lion-hearted solicitor should have been forgotten. That the city managed to worry along for six months without his supervision, is one of those mysterious chances which may only be explained when the light of history and careful, unprejudiced investigation shall, in the far distant future, illuminate the cobwebbed darkness of ages long then past.

As Bardsley suggested, so was it done. A committee was appointed with power to act, and at high noon one clear, bright day, while special thanksgiving services were being chanted in all the churches, the General’s congealed form was hauled out of a wagon, with golden ice nippers, and landed safely on the flag pavement of Independence Hall. A gentle fire of rosewood shavings and sweet cacia wood was built around him, and he was gradually and tenderly thawed out. The coat of ice melted away; the stern features relaxed, the water dripped from all portions of the herculean frame, the fog, mist, and steam generated by the process cleared away, and

Charlie was himself again.

While he was still receiving the congratulations of his friends, the contractors who were required to remove the buildings approached, and publicly offered him one hundred thousand dollars to remain in his own dwelling until the close of the exhibition and then go out to the grounds and cause a final crash. This, of course, would save them immense time, labor, and expenditure. With the dignity of THE CÆSAR
OF THE AGE.Cæsar on the Lupercal, he drew his form to its full height, and casting one look of disdain upon the contractors, who instantaneously disappeared beneath the flagging to rise no more, he walked slowly up Chestnut Street, followed by the plaudits of an enthusiastic mob.

The Awards of the Judges,

though of immense importance, are of especial interest only to the exhibitors. Others desirous of posting themselves on this point, are referred to the musty, fusty rows of figures and statistics which will soon flood the American rag market. Two cents a pound is not an exorbitant price for information which is at all desirable. From the list of nine hundred and eight foreign and domestic judges, we will merely select the following familiar names:—Ludlow, Thayer, Biddle, Dwight, Paxson, Hackett, Cardoza, and Finletter; Dr. Mary Walker, Prof. Proctor, Stephen Pearl Andrews, Bret Harte, Lydia Thompson, Wm. Gladstone, Elwood Rowan, Gen. Garibaldi, Susan B. Anthony, and the Marquis of Lorne.

As the style of report was similar in all cases, an example will give a general idea of the plan adopted. The scriptural quotations were altered to suit each instance.

The only squabble among the judges was concerning the report on American fried oysters. Councilman Rowan and Premier Gladstone indulged in some marked personalities. They might have come to blows but for the prompt intervention of Miss Lydia Thompson and her little cowhide. She cornered the belligerents. Mr. Gladstone apologized to our distinguished councilman over a dish of the matter in dispute, and they compromised on two gold medals and an honorable mention.

And now—AN END TO
EVERYTHING.

When the hands of Nature began stripping the foliage from the trees, the hands of man began stripping the decorations from the gay palace-like structures which had been the theatre of the world’s interest for six memorable months. Like the possessions of that happy but mythical “family declining housekeeping,” the hope and mainstay of the cheerful, chirping auctioneer, little by little, piece by piece, the furniture and contents of the great buildings were going—going—gone!

The white beard of Winter covers our beautiful Park; he has laid his icy hand upon the quiet stream which dances happily in the Summer days between its green fringed banks; the tall trees stand bare, looking into the gray-faced sky, and the jingle of sleigh-bells dies away in the hollows, and rings out sharply o’er the frozen roads. The busy noise of Machinery Hall is hushed and forgotten; if you wish to hear the humming and the buzzing of a few weeks back, you must e’en apply to a humming-bird or a buzz-saw. The cries of the different animals from the vicinity of Agricultural Hall no longer reach the ear, no matter how long the ear may be, and the scent of a million flowers from Horticultural Hall no longer steals the senses. The stealing is all over; the visitors have all gone home.

Our country has had her holiday, and, donning her honest homespun suit, she goes quietly, surely, and confidently to work upon her second century. ’Tis but her babyhood which has passed into years gone, and yet—she has proved herself a man.

Let us not endeavor to lift the veil which marks the boundary of the present. Blessed are the eyes which have seen these glories past, for many anticipating eyes grew closed and dulled before the fire blazed. Dear reader, as its smoke is carried upward and beyond, reluctantly we say—FAREWELL.

“Farewell!”

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JOHN STILZ & SON,
The Popular Clothiers
OF PHILADELPHIA,
S. E. cor. Seventh and Market Sts.,
FINEST READY-MADE CLOTHING,
CONSISTING OF
Elegant Spring, Fall, and Winter Overcoats,

FINE DRESS SUITS,
FINE BUSINESS SUITS,

Alpaca and Drap d’Ete Coats,

Linen Ulsters and Dusters,

In immense variety, and at the lowest cash prices.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

ROBERT A. HANCE’S

Granules of Podophyllin Comp.

FOR AFFECTIONS OF THE LIVER,

HEADACHE, CONSTIPATION OF THE BOWELS, etc.,

No. 46 N. Tenth St., Philadelphia.
(Formerly 729 Market Street.)

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Our Granules of Podophyllin Comp. have become so popular a remedy, that we are encouraged to bring them more prominently before the public. They are invaluable for

Affections of the Liver,

CONSTIPATION, DYSPEPSIA, HEADACHE, &c.

They are purely vegetable, and form a complete substitute for Calomel and Blue Mass, without any of their injurious effects. They make a safe, efficient, and convenient family remedy, and, being small in size, are more readily swallowed than a pill.

Directions.—For ordinary Headache or Liver Affections, take from 4 to 6, or a sufficient number on retiring to evacuate the bowels once or twice the following day, and in severe cases repeat the dose for two or three consecutive nights, and, if necessary, resume the above course in two or three days. To produce a cathartic effect take 8 or more at a dose.

Price 30 cents per Vial, by Mail, 35 cents.

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WE ARE ALSO OFFERING

Granules of Santonine Comp.

which are particularly adapted for the expulsion of Worms in children. Unlike many worm nostrums of the day, they are entirely harmless, and, being small in size, they make a safe remedy that is readily administered.

Dose.—2 to 4 twice daily.

Price 30 cents per Vial, by Mail, 35 cents.

We are paying exclusive attention to the manufacture of the above, with a full line of FLUID EXTRACTS.

DRUGGISTS and PHYSICIANS are solicited to give them a trial. We confidently assert their superiority to any in the market.

Price List furnished upon application.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

HENRY M. REIS. C. BECHERER.

REIS & BECHERER,

IMPORTERS OF
BRANDIES, WINES, GINS,
ETC. ETC. ETC.,
No. 306 North Third Street,
PHILADELPHIA.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

FIELD & HARDIE,

633
MARKET
Street,
PHILA.,

624
Commerce
Street,
PENNA.

DEALERS AND MANUFACTURERS OF

HARDWARE

PARTICULAR ATTENTION GIVEN TO ORDERS
FROM
ARCHITECTS AND OTHERS

FOR
BUILDERS, MACHINISTS, AND RAILROADS.

FOR
HARDWARE
SUITABLE FOR ALL KINDS OF BUILDINGS.

ALWAYS IN STOCK A FULL LINE OF

MASTER KEY.
Set of 6 to 100 Locks.
No two sets alike, unless so ordered.

Sash Pulleys, with Composition Pins,
FOR HEAVY SASH,
Of our own Manufacture.
DOOR LOCKS,
Over Two Hundred Styles.

Including MALLORY, WHEELER & CO.’S New Four-Tumbler Mortice and Rim Locks, with Master Keys. Put up in sets for Hotels and Private Residences. LOCK TRIMMINGS IN PURE SOLID BRONZE, SILVER AND NICKEL PLATED, with Butt Hinges to match.

Every variety of TRIMMINGS for Sash, and Inside Shutters.

NAILS,
Sash-Weights, and Cord.

Key belonging to a set of
6 to 100 Locks.
No two in the set alike.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

Established 1841.

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WRIGHT’S
“NE PLUS ULTRA”
MINCED MEAT.

Be careful of
unprincipled Grocers
representing that

They sell Wright’s
“NE PLUS ULTRA”
Minced Meat.

The only Medal for Minced Meat, awarded by the Franklin Institute of 1874 to

JOSHUA WRIGHT,
S. W. Corner
Spring Garden and Franklin Streets,
PHILADELPHIA.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

H. D. MEYER,
MILLINERY GOODS,
RIBBONS,
SILKS, SATINS, VELVETS,
AND
STRAW GOODS,
No. 52 North Eighth Street,

Below Arch, west side,

PHILADELPHIA.

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Trimmed Hats and Bonnets a Specialty.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

J. Dickson & Co.,
ENGRAVERS
BY
Dickson’s Patent Process.
OFFICE:
North-East Corner Fourth and Walnut Sts.,
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
These Engravings possess the following Advantages over Wood Cuts:

They are made of a material that is SUPERIOR to either metal or wood.

They are not affected by DAMPNESS or any corroding agents, and will not WARP or SPLIT.

They do not get BLURRED when a large number of impressions are printed from them; and they are furnished at One-Half the Cost.

Electrotypes and Stereotypes can be made from these Engravings in the usual manner.

These Engravings are mounted on blocks type high, ready for use on any printing press.

Proofs furnished when required, and Engravings guaranteed to equal proof in all respects.

Engravings made for all sorts of Illustrations for Catalogues, Circulars, Books and Newspapers, etc.

Printers, Publishers, Manufacturers and others, desiring first-class work at reasonable prices, should give us a trial.

By this process all styles of Engraving may be imitated; thus enabling type printers to do work formerly done by Lithography and other methods.

Accurate, Fine, and Effective Work, also Illustrated Catalogues, a Specialty.

Estimates Furnished.

The Engravings made by our method have not the broken and blurred appearance so peculiar in photo-engravings, zinc etchings, and other kindred processes; besides being furnished in a very short time, and at half the price of wood cuts.

ENGRAVINGS MADE FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, SKETCHES, REPRINTS, &c., &c.

Address, J. DICKSON & CO.,
NORTH-EAST CORNER FOURTH AND WALNUT STREETS,
PHILADELPHIA, PA.

N. B.—Orders by Mail Promptly Attended to.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

Publishers, Booksellers,
Importers and Stationers.

We carry
complete
stocks of
Standard
Miscel-
laneous
Books,
School
and
College
Text-
Books,
Foreign
and
Domestic
Stationery.

We offer
ad-
vantages
for the
Purchase
of Goods
in all
Depart-
ments
of our
Business,
unequalled
by any
House
in the
Trade.

Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger
624, 626 and 628 Market St.,
PHILADELPHIA.

All orders for everything required by the Trade filled Promptly and on the Most Favorable Terms. Correspondence solicited.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

PITKIN & THOMAS,
No. 71 North Second Street,

PITKIN, WATERBURY & CO.,
110 Chambers St., New York.

PHILADELPHIA,

WHOLESALE DEALERS IN

GOVERNMENT STORES,

OVERCOATS,
DRESS COATS,
BLOUSES,
JACKETS,
PANTS, etc. etc.

ARMY BOOTS AND SHOES.

RUBBER BLANKETS,
RUBBER OVERCOATS,
RUBBER HORSE COVERS,
WOOLLEN BLANKETS.

Also,

MANUFACTURERS OF AND DEALERS IN

Buggy, Track, and Team Harness,
HORSE CLOTHING, &c.

SEND FOR PRICE LIST.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

LADIES’ FURS.

BUFFALO AND SLEIGH ROBES.

Seal
Coats.

FURS.

Seal
Caps.

etc. etc. etc.

BEST QUALITIES, LARGEST STOCK,
LOWEST PRICES,
AT
NAV. C. REISKY,
No. 237 ARCH STREET,
PHILADELPHIA.

P.S.—I can sell a first-class article 10 per cent. less than any other fur store in the City.

Shipping Furs bought in season.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

HARBACH
BROS.,
CONFEC-
TIONERS,

HARBACH’S ORIGINAL CENTENNIAL NOUGATINES

ESTABLISHED 1842.
HARBACH’S
ORIGINAL WALNUT
CANDY.

HARBACH’S
ORIGINAL
CONFECTIONS.

HARBACH’S
ORIGINAL CARAMEL
COCOANUT.
PATENTED MARCH 28, 1871.

36 N
EIGHTH ST.,
PHILADA.,
PA.

36 N^TH 8^TH St. & 807 & 809 Filbert St. Philada. Pa.

LATEST
NOVELTIES
and
Improvements
in

SCIOPTICON
AND 60 SLIDES $75
AND 100 SLIDES $100
LATEST IMPROVED

THEO. J. HARBACH
IMPORTER
AND
MANUFACTURER
OF SLIDES FOR
the STEREOPTICON
& MAGIC LANTERN
Catalogue Free.
809 FILBERT ST. PHILA. PA.

DANCING SKELETON
TAKES OFF HEAD
DOUBLE MOVEMENT
ONLY $5⁰⁰.

MAGIC
LANTERNS,
Stereopticons & Slides.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

J. HENRY GERCKE,

Watchmaker and Jeweler,
1206 Pine Street,
PHILADELPHIA,
DEALER IN
Watches, Jewelry, Wedding Rings, etc.
MANUFACTURER OF
Masonic Marks, Society Emblems, etc.
ALSO SPECIAL AGENT FOR THE
CENTENNIAL WATCH,
AND THE
CELEBRATED “56” CHARM.

Particular attention paid to Repairing.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

ENTERPRISING.PROMPT.PRACTICAL.

HIRSCH & LARZELERE,
COMMERCIAL PRINTERS,
No. 30 South Fourth St., Philada.

SPECIALTIES:

BILL-HEADS,
LETTER-HEADS,
STATEMENTS,
LABELS,

CIRCULARS, CARDS, etc. etc.

Printing in English, German, French, Spanish, and all Modern Languages.

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GIVE US A TRIAL.

---

HENRY N. HIRSCH.EDWARD HIRSCH.SAMUEL M. LARZELERE.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

ALLEN SCOTT & CO.,
IMPORTERS,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CARPETINGS, OIL CLOTHS

etc. etc. etc.,

No. 35
North Second Street,
PHILADELPHIA.

P. E. McKENNA.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

Established 1844.

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JOS. McALLISTER. WM. F. CARRIGAN.

McAllister & Co.,
MANUFACTURERS OF AND DEALERS IN
FINE WINDOW SHADES,
PLAIN, FIGURED, OR LETTERED, FOR

Dwellings, Stores, Hotels, Churches, Factories,

ETC. ETC. ETC.

Nos. 17 and 19 N. Second Street,
(Opp. Christ Church,)

PHILADELPHIA.

Patentees and Wholesale Agents for
THE NOVELTY
WINDOW SHADE FIXTURE.

FINE STORE SHADES A SPECIALTY.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

HALE, KILBURN & CO.,

SOLE PROPRIETORS AND MANUFACTURERS OF

The “Champion” Folding Bedstead and Crib.

The “Everitt” Bedstead.

The most complete thing of its kind ever invented. Folded, it is a perfect imitation of a wardrobe; unfolded, a complete bedstead; is folded with the bed ready to occupy, and requires but a moment to fold and unfold.

Made in every Style, from the Plainest to the most elaborate.

The best article of furniture offered for use during the Centennial Year.

CLOSED.OPENING.OPEN.

Prices to suit all classes, running from $33 upwards.

HALE’S FLEXIBLE TOP SPRING BED.
CLEAN, NEAT, NOISELESS, COMFORTABLE, DURABLE, CHEAP.

HALE’S FLEXIBLE SEAT CHAIRS, STOOLS, etc. etc.
Superior in every respect to any other wood or cane seat.
Give perfect satisfaction. Send for descriptive
circular and price list.

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ALSO, GENERAL MANUFACTURERS OF
Walnut Picture and Looking-glass Frames, Mouldings, Pedestals, Music Stands, etc. etc.

BRANCH STORE,
613 Broadway,
New York.

SALESROOM,
48 & 50 N. Sixth St.,
Philadelphia, Pa.

FACTORIES,
48 & 50 N. 6th St.,
615-621 Filbert St., Phila.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

DENNISON & CO.

Boston, New York, Philadelphia,
Chicago, Cincinnati, St. Louis.

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Dennison’s Patent Shipping Tags.
Cloth, Parchment, and Metal Eyelet Shipping Tags.
Merchandise Tags for Cloths, Clothing, Dry Goods,
Hardware, Fancy Goods, Jewelry, etc.
Gum Labels and Legal Seals, Pin Tickets,
Fancy Tickets, Artificial Flower Labels,
Pattern Cards for Woollens.

Jeweller’s Paper Boxes,
Jeweller’s Cards, Pink and White Cotton,
Fine Twines, Sealing Wax, etc. etc.
Apothecaries’ Powder Papers and Boxes.

IMPORTERS OF

Fine English Tissue Papers Chamois Skins,
Morocco Ring and Thimble Boxes,
Sealing Wax, Wood Boxes, etc. etc.

Sales Agents for McGill’s Goods.

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632 Chestnut St., Philada.	19 Milk St., Boston.
202 Broadway, New York.
150 S. Clark St., Chicago.	4th & Vine Sts., Cincin.
110 Pine Street, St. Louis.

[Facsimile] of advertisement.

THE DIRECTOR-GENERAL AFTER THE EXHIBITION.

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