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accident, and throughout those four terrible years he was always at his post. As a private of 19 he began his military career; at 23 he concluded it as a colonel. With Sherman he marched through Georgia “ to the sea" and witnessed the closing drama of the Rebellion at Lynchburg. This


hero had seen more of actual warfare than many an older man, yet he wore his honours with a maiden's modesty. It was only when I asked him to do so that he showed me his medal. A plain gold crescent scrolled with name and military rank; he prized it as the martyr's gift, as our soldiers treasure a Victoria Cross. He had previously asked me to examine a beautiful specimen of filigree work, a chain curiously fashioned by a Venetian goldsmith. That was a cosmopolitan prize, free to the ken of the world; but the medal was a token of merit, a possession of the individual man, only to be looked upon and named with reverence.

It was memorial of honour, such as a man cares to hand down to his family as an heirloom.

More than 150 regiments, comprising 200,000 soldiers, from the Prairie State threw life and sword into the Union scale. More volunteers came forward than could be accepted; many of these on being rejected passed over into Missouri and tendered their services. There they readily obtained enrollment, for the people were lukewarm in the Federal cause, and loyal men were not so numerous as in freedom-loving Illinois. Remembering these facts, let us credit Americans with a measure of humility and patriotism, as well as with the boasting and selfishness so often gratuitously ascribed to them. Colonel Johnson was returning from an European tour. He had found there, that the name of the Republic was still a tower of strength to cis-atlantic nations. After this knowledge he came home, feeling more than over rejoiced at his soldier's work. Cross came before Crown. The one ceased to mortally afflict when the last battle was fought, the other shall endure with the nation's life. It is rimmed with happiness for the poor and needy, starred with promise for the world. Already bitter cross is well-nigh swallowed in bright crown,-the former a penalty of Disunion, the latter a seal of Union.

Turning our faces from the “Father of Waters," we may pursue our journey by rail or river. The latter is the more enjoyable route. At Cario we pass from the Mississippi into the Ohio, meaning in our language "the beautiful river." Steaming now through lake-like expanses, now through watery defiles, for hundreds of miles we see to the northward the skirts of the granary States, Illinois, Indiana and Ohio ; and to the south Kentucky, the sole Kentuck” of banjo tradition, the “ dark and bloody ground” of red and white men's strife. To those who have leisure for lengthened travel there is beautiful scenery awaiting them amid the limestone gorges through which the river Kentucky runs. For them also the wonders of the Mammoth Cave are open. For those of us who cannot visit it, the photographer has taken pictures by the aid of reflectors and the magnesium light. All the mysteries of the cavern are laid bare,—the “Gothic Chapel and the “Column of Hercules ;"—the “Altar” round which cluster memories as romantic as those which makes famous the “ Wedding stone” at Wensley ; there is a “Bottomless Pit” of Stygian gloom, and through the “Scotchman's Trap" there is entrance to " Echo River."

Illinois is rich enough in wealth of corn-lands, with its river bottoms of vegetable mould 40ft. deep, yielding 30 to 35 bushels of wheat per acre, worth 2 dollars a bushel.


For Indiana and Ohio there is not only the climate of Southern France, but also the vineyards which in the old lands stretch from Bordeaux to the Mediterranean. The quiet pastoral life of the dwellers here reminds us of a similar scene which an ancient poet has described. The farmer is amongst his vines,

Inutilesque falce ramos amputans

Feliciores inserit; or, changing the scene,

-In reducta valle mugientium

Prospectat errantes greges ; A variety of horse-chesnut, which in St. Petersburg is a greenhouse shrub, grows bravely in Ohio; expanding to the size of a forest-tree, and to the dignity of naming a State,—“Ohio, the Buck-eye State.”

The land owners in Ohio number a third of a million ; proprietary farmers who cultivate their own vine-slopes, their pastures and corn-fields. Happy would our British farmers think themselves, if they could each own the 84

so which constitute an average farm in the “ Buck-eye State." These rich lands have yielded harvests for half a century without intermission, without application of the manure, which, to our farmers is such a necessary item of expense. No wonder that Ohio grows rich faster than Suffolk and Essex. The people are essentially an agricultural community, yet they have raised the vision of their understanding far above the level of other bucolic centres I could name; to wit, the " habitants" of Madawaska. The first settlers started with freedom from slavery,-every 36th quarter-mile section of land was set apart for school revenues,-and now, so perfectly is the science of political economy understood, that the very convict prisoners are made to

acres or


earn their expenses and a little over.* Where in the whole world would you find a people who would more certainly fight to the death for home and freedom, than the men of Ohio ? They proved their loyalty during the

General Cary told us of scenes he witnessed when raising troops to send to the front. The city-halls of every village in the State rung with shouts of enthusiasm as he called for volunteers. This leader is not unknown in England. During a progress of some months through the three kingdoms, his resolute pleading has been cast into the Temperance scale. He has faithfully told our people of the grim warfare that is ever waged amongst them of that vice which is a more ruthless destroyer than the deadliest war. As a Maine-Law man and an advocate of Free Trade, he carries with him to his home in the West, the respect of the British people. (1870.)

Hundreds of petroleum tanks, and cars freighted with oil barrels, indicate the proximity of the rock-wells of north west Pennsylvania. The ravines of Oil Creek are masted with derricks, and palled with furnace-stacks. It is no relief to turn southward, where by the once pure-flowing Monongahela stands Pittsburgh, a Birmingham and Newcastle in one. The town was named after a British Prime Minister, and on the banks of the river hard by, Washington won his spurs of generalship under an English commander. If we were inclined to sorrow for

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* The convicts are chiefiy men of foreign birth. An orator was addressing the people at an election; many of his hearers being men who came originally from “Emerald Isle.'

“ Who builds your railroads? Ans. " The Irish.
"Who lay out your towns ?" Ans.“ The Irish."
“ Who build your prisons ?” Ans.“ The Irish."

“Who fill your prisons ? Ans. “The Irish." To the latter question, before former enthusiasm could subside, came an affirmative answer. Random as it seemed, it was a fact. Of 1100 offenders confined in the State prison, 950 are Irish. I

the departure hence of English Saxondom, we might exclaim “Sic transit gloria mundi," but believing in the presence and vigour of American Saxondom, we rejoice.

At Pittsburgh we see an example of the evil effects of a depreciated paper currency upon a people. The miners there are now receiving in scrip, three times the amount of wages which formerly contented them when paid in silver dollars. The apparent increase of prosperity has proved a source of temptation to the Irish miners which they cannot resist : drinking and fighting now enter more largely into the avocations of the week, until the play of these savage passions has become a terror to peaceable inhabitants. The ignorant Irishman says “I have fought your battles for you and now I will rule;”– with his class it is not more “ Ireland for the Irish” than in these days, “ America for the Irish.” Even a child here knows the comparative worthlessness of greenback currency. While it looked upon a silver coin as a real treasure, worthy of being saved, it regards scrip as a sham and not worth saving. “This is a bad note," said a restaurant keeper on my presenting a dollar bill in payment, and examining it more closely I found that it was an imitation, a forgery. “Give it me back” said I, but the American replied “it will do as well as a good one, there are thousands of bad notes in circulation, and we are obliged to take the good and bad together." I could not reconcile my conscience to aiding the fraud, so pocketed the loss and brought home the note of phantom value; but afterwards was careful to refuse imitation greenbacks.

I had heard of American tressel bridges, but passing over the river Catawissa on a wooden viaduct 100ft. high and 700ft. long, I could not help wishing that American

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