The Market Street Passenger Railway Company reduced fares to five cents to catch the bulk of the traffic. Next day the Chestnut and Walnut Street line lowered their rates to four cents, carrying bundles free and no questions asked. The Race and Vine Street Company, appreciating the situation, carried passengers for three cents, presenting each one with a chromo of the Bridge across the Delaware. This was but the beginning of the famous tramway war, which continued with variations during the entire Exposition. Before its close the Market Street line was paying passengers seven cents apiece to ride with them, while the newly established “People’s Line” presented each patron with four shares of stock LODGINGS FOR
SINGLE GENTLEMEN.and a night’s lodging in their spacious depot.
But the city, ah, the city! It really seemed as if everybody who proposed attending the Exposition had resolved to be present at its opening. Every nook and corner, highway and byway, where a tired stranger could rest his wearied head, was engaged, taken up, appropriated; and those dilatory ones who delayed securing accommodations (notably some of the most distinguished guests) were obliged to pay the penalty of their procrastination.
Imagine it to be the month of May. According to a popular fallacy this is the month of flowers and gentle zephyrs; according to Jayne’s almanac it is a first-rate time to take one of his excellent remedies for invigorating the system.
On the tenth day of this month the Exposition is to be opened. The city has cut entirely loose from its Quaker traditions. It is clad in banners, flags, garlands, arches, and emblems. Many private residences are painted to represent the American flag; numerous clothes-lines offer to the breezes various shaped streamers of red, white, blue, and orange-colored flannel. All the lamp-posts have been silver-plated; every telegraph pole has been varnished; every wire enamelled. For weeks the inhabitants have not gone to bed. An ingenious invention in the shape of an inflatable pocket-pillow enables them to take standing naps against walls, buildings, and fire-plugs.
The guns at the Navy Yard continually herald distinguished arrivals. The streets are thronged with citizens, tourists, American and foreign officers and soldiers, the advance guard of every country to be represented. ’Tis like an animated waxwork exhibition. Receptions, banquets, and serenades are of hourly occurrence.
Many side streets are converted into airy lodgings. Families have rented out their door-steps, charging double price when their door-mats are used. A new industry has arisen, and hostlers are deserting the stables to carry shaving water for, and attend to the visitors thus accommodated. It is a common thing, on the way down town in the morning, to pass an early riser making his toilette under difficulties, while a lazier companion snores away complacently with his head against the alley-gate.
The seventh day of the month was one to be remembered with pride forever. Early in the day the Chevalier De Lafayette arrived with the gentlemen of the French Commission and secured quarters at the “Guy House.” In consideration of his ancestor’s great services, the proprietor rated the Chevalier’s board at six hundred francs per diem, and as a delicate compliment to his national feelings, assigned him an apartment in the French roof. Before he departed the Chevalier ascertained to his complete satisfaction why this hotel was called the Guy House.
On the evening after their arrival, a reception was tendered the Chevalier and his companions by our citizens. Col. Fitzgerald was selected to deliver the address of welcome on account of his Parisian manners, the elegance of costume which distinguishes him from his fellows, and for his general epileptic fitness. We give a report of his speech copied from the “City Item” of the succeeding day. We are, therefore, prepared to vouch for its correctness.
LA BLESSING
DE MON PERE.“Messieurs: God bless you all; you are noble men; we are all noble men; a noble man’s the honest work of God. God bless Paris; God bless Philadelphia—they are both noble cities! May He bless the Champs Elysées; may He bless the Column Vendome; may He bless the Hotel de Ville, and, entre nous, while we are upon this subject, God bless the Abattoir. (Great applause.)