In the year 1610, Lord Thomas de la War, on his voyage from England to Virginia, entered what is now Delaware Bay, and discovered the river flowing into it, to which he also gave his name. The Dutch made a prior claim to the discovery of the land which bordered this river, and retained possession for a time. But there were difficulties in maintaining their settlements, and in 1638 the Swedes sent out a colony from Stockholm, and established a footing on the west bank of the river, afterwards known as Pennsylvania. The Dutch at New York, however, would not submit to this arrangement, and under Peter Stuyvesant, Governor of Manhattan, demanded the surrender of their fort—now called Trinity Fort—which was yielded. The Dutch authority lasted for a short time only. In 1664 the English captured Manhattan and expelled the Dutch, and in the same year an expedition under Sir Robert Carr came to the Delaware, fired two broadsides into Trinity Fort, landed storming parties, assaulted the fort, killed three Dutchmen, wounded ten, and in triumph raised the flag of England, which was thereafter supreme on the Delaware for nine years.

In 1672 the Dutch tried their strength again, and summoned the English fort at Staten Island to surrender. This summons was complied with, and the English of New York swore allegiance to the Prince of Orange. The people upon the banks of the Delaware soon accommodated themselves to the change of masters, and welcomed the Dutch. But this was their last appearance upon the Delaware. In the next year, 1673, their settlements in America were all ceded, through the fortune of war, to Great Britain, and this territory once more passed under the English flag.

About this time the name of William Penn enters into American history. The British Government being largely indebted to his father, Admiral William Penn, the son found little difficulty in obtaining a grant for a large tract of land in America, upon which to found a colony. This was in 1681. He immediately sent out to his wooded possessions, which he named Pennsylvania, his cousin, Captain William Markham, who had been a soldier, with a commission to be Deputy Governor, and with instructions to inform the European inhabitants already settled there of the change in government, promising them liberal laws. Markham was also to convey a message of peace to the Indians, in the name of their new "proprietor." He was soon followed by three commissioners, who had power to settle the colony, and among other things, to layout a principal city, to be the capital of the province, which William Penn, who was a member of the Society of Friends, directed should be called Philadelphia—a Greek compound signifying "brotherly love." He himself arrived on the great territory of which he was sole proprietor in 1682, and found the plans of the city and province to his satisfaction. He at once convened an Assembly, and the three counties of Philadelphia, Bucks, and Chester were created, and proper laws passed for their government.

In less than two years, however, Penn was obliged to return to England, and shortly after, in 1692, the British Government took possession of the colony, and placed it under the jurisdiction of the Governor of New York. But in 1694, the government was restored to Penn, and Markham was again made Lieutenant-Governor. Penn, himself, did not return to America until 1699. He found his capital very considerably improved. Instead of the wilderness he had left, fifteen years before, there were streets, houses, elegant stores, warehouses, and shipping on the river. The population was estimated at four thousand five hundred persons. His visit was, however, brief. In 1701, he set sail again for England, intending to return in a few months, but this intention was never carried out. In 1708, his pecuniary embarrassments were so great, that he was arrested for debt in London, and thrown into the Fleet Prison, where he continued for nine years. In 1712 his health and mind gave way, and during six years he lingered as an imbecile, childish and gentle in his manners, the sad wreck of a strong mind. He died in July, 1718.

The government of Pennsylvania was administered for a time by his widow, and subsequently went into the hands of his children and their descendants, as proprietors. They usually delegated the administration to lieutenant-governors, though they sometimes exercised their authority in person, until the American Revolution put an end to all the colonial governments.

The history of Philadelphia during the period of the Revolution is largely connected with that of the whole country. At a large meeting held in the State House in Philadelphia, in April, 1768, it was resolved to cease all importations from the mother country, in consequence of the exorbitant taxes levied upon them. In 1773, the British East India Company being determined to export tea to America, a second meeting was called at the State House, at which it was patriotically resolved that "Parliament had no right to tax the Americans, without their consent," and that "any one who would receive or sell the tea sent out to America would be denounced as an enemy to his country."

The ship Polly, Captain Ryers, was to bring the tea to Philadelphia. Handbills, purporting to be issued by the "committee for tarring and feathering," were printed and distributed among the citizens. They were addressed to the Delaware pilots and to Captain Ryers himself, warning the former of the danger they would incur if they piloted the tea ship up the river, whilst Captain Ryers was threatened with the application of tar and feathers if he attempted to land the tea.

Christmas Day, 1773, the Polly arrived. A committee of citizens went on board, told Captain Ryers the danger he was in, and requested him to accompany them to the State House. Here the largest meeting was assembled that had ever been held in the city. This meeting resolved that the tea on board the Polly should not be landed, and that it should be carried back to England immediately. The captain signified his willingness to comply with the resolution, and in two hours after, the Polly, with her freight of tea, hoisted sail and went down the river.

In September, 1774, the first Congress, composed of delegates from eleven Colonies, met at Carpenters' Hall, on Chestnut street, Philadelphia, to consider the condition of the Colonies, in their relation to the mother country. This Congress resolved that all importations from Great Britain or her dependencies should cease. Committees of "inspection and observation," were appointed, which exercised absolute authority to punish all persons infringing the order of Congress.

On April twenty-fourth, 1775, news of the battles of Concord and Lexington reached the city. A meeting was immediately called, by sound of gong and bell, at the State House. Eight thousand persons assembled, who resolved that they would "associate together, to defend with arms their property, liberty and lives." Troops were at once raised, forts and batteries built on the Delaware, floating batteries, gunboats and ships-of-war constructed, with all the speed possible, and chevaux de frize sunk in the river, to prevent the passage of British ships. In May, 1776, the English Frigate Roebuck, and Sloop-of-war Liverpool, attempting to force their way up the river, the Americans opened fire on them, and a regular naval action took place. The British managed to escape, and retired to their cruising ground, at the entrance of the bay.

On July second, 1776, Congress, sitting at the State House, resolved in favor of the severance of all connection between the American Colonies and Great Britain, and independence of that power. On July third and fourth, the form of the declaration of independence was debated, and adopted on the latter day. July eighth, the Declaration was read to the people in the State House yard, and received with acclamations, and evidences of a stern determination to defend their independence with their lives. The King's Arms were at once torn down from the court room in the State House, and burned by the people. Bells were rung and bonfires lighted, the old State House bell fulfilling the command inscribed upon it, when it was cast, twenty years before: "Proclaim Liberty throughout the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof."

In September, 1777, the British army, under General Lord Howe, entered Philadelphia. October fourth, Washington attacked it at Germantown, and although he did not win a victory, compelled the British commander to respect him. The English remained in possession of the city, but the Americans held the country around. The Philadelphians having closed the Delaware by the chevaux de frize, the royal army was in effect hemmed in and cut off from communication with the British fleet, which had entered the Delaware, but was prevented from approaching the city by the American forts and batteries. It had brought but a moderate supply of stores, and as these diminished, the troops suffered from scarcity of food.

On November twenty-sixth, British frigates and transports arrived at the wharves of the city, to the great joy of the royal troops and of the inhabitants, provisions having become very scarce and famine threatened. Beef sold at five dollars a pound, and potatoes at four dollars a bushel, hard money. The British army remained in Philadelphia until June eighteenth, 1778, about nine months from its first occupation of the city. During that time the officers gave themselves up to enjoyment. They amused themselves with the theatre, with balls, parties, cock-fights and gambling: and a grand fÊte was celebrated in honor of their commander, Lord Howe. This fÊte, in the style of a tournament of chivalry, took place in the lower part of the city, and while it was in progress the Americans in considerable force made an attack upon the lines north of the city, set fire to the abattis, and brought out the entire body of the royal troops to repel the attack.

Upon the evacuation of the city, in June, General Benedict Arnold was immediately sent with a small force to occupy it. He remained in military command for several months. It was discovered by many that he had become largely involved in certain speculating transactions, and the shame of the discovery stimulated the traitorous intentions which finally carried him over to the British army.

After the inauguration of Washington as President of the new republic, it was determined by Congress that Philadelphia should be the seat of the United States government for the ensuing ten years, after which it should be removed to Washington City. The scheme of the Federal Constitution was framed and adopted in September, 1787, by the Convention sitting at the State House, with George Washington as President. The final adoption of the Constitution of the United States of America was celebrated in Philadelphia on the Fourth of July, 1788 by a magnificent procession.

The principal officers of Congress removed their residences to Philadelphia in the latter part of 1790. At that period Washington lived in Market street near Sixth, in a plain two-story brick house, which had been the residence of Lord Howe during the British occupation of the city. The locality is now occupied, if I mistake not, by the mammoth clothing house of Wanamaker & Brown. John Adams, Vice-President, lived in the Hamilton mansion at Bush Hill; and Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State, at 174 Market street, between Fourth and Fifth, on the south side. Congress assembled for the transaction of business on State House Square.

During the stay of the Federal government in Philadelphia, Washington and Adams were inaugurated as President and Vice President (March fourth, 1797), in the chamber of the House of Representatives.

In 1793, 1797, and 1798, a fearful epidemic of the yellow fever, visited Philadelphia and created great alarm, the mortality being dreadful.

The removal of the Federal government to Washington, in 1800, deprived Philadelphia of the prominence she had enjoyed as the Capital of the nation. In the year 1808 steamboats began to ply regularly on the Delaware River. During the war which commenced in 1812 between the United States and Great Britain, Philadelphia maintained her loyalty, and fulfilled her duty to the country. Several volunteer companies were formed, and there was an engagement in July, 1813, between British war vessels and the United States gunboat flotilla on the Delaware, in which the Philadelphians proved themselves brave and patriotic.

The first railroad, running from Philadelphia to Germantown, was built in 1832. The Pennsylvania Railroad was projected in 1845, and chartered in the following year.

In 1834 a spirit of riot and disorder which passed over the United States, reached Philadelphia, and led to disturbances between whites and blacks. The houses of colored people were broken into, a meeting-house torn down, and many other outrages committed. Again, in 1835 attacks were made on the blacks, and houses burned. In 1838 all friends of the abolition of slavery were violently attacked, and much damage done to property in the city.

But the most terrible riots which Philadelphia has known occurred in 1844. A meeting of the Native American party was attacked and dispersed. The "Natives" rallied to a market house on Washington street, where they were again attacked, and fire-arms used on both sides. Houses were broken into and set on fire. The Roman Catholic churches of Saint Michael and Saint Augustine, and a female Catholic seminary, were burned, and many buildings sacked and destroyed. All the Catholic churches were in great danger of sharing the same fate. A large number of persons were killed on both sides. On July fourth, of the same year, the Native Americans had a very large and showy procession through the streets of the city. On Sunday, July seventh, the church of Saint Philip de Neri, in Southwark, was broken into by the mob. In clearing the streets, the soldiers and the people came into collision. The former fired into the crowd, and several persons were killed, and others wounded. This occurrence caused intense excitement. The soldiers were attacked with cannon and with musketry, and they responded with artillery and with musketry. The rioters had four pieces, which were worked by sailors. The battle continued during the night of the seventh and the morning of the eighth of July. Two soldiers were killed, and several wounded. Of the citizens seven were killed, and many wounded. This was the most sanguinary riot, and the last of any importance, which ever occurred in Philadelphia.

Philadelphia possesses many characteristic features which distinguish her from her sister cities. The visitor will be at first struck by the extreme regularity of the streets, and the look of primness which invests them. They are laid out at right angles, the only notable exceptions being those roads, now dignified by the name of avenues, which usually led from the infant city into the then adjacent country. These avenues, of which Passyunk, Germantown and Ridge are the principal ones, are irregular in their course, but take a generally diagonal direction; the first southwest, and the other two northwest. The houses are mostly of brick, with white marble facings and steps, and white wooden shutters to the first story. The streets running east and west, from the Delaware to the Schuylkill, are, in the original city, with few exceptions named after trees. Thus Cedar, Pine, Spruce, Locust, Walnut, Chestnut, Filbert, Mulberry, Cherry, Sassafras and Vine. Cedar became South street, and Sassafras and Mulberry became Race and Arch, the latter so named because in the early days of the city Front street spanned it by an arch. Callowhill street was originally Gallowhill street, the word indicating its derivation. The houses on these streets are numbered from the Delaware, beginning a new hundred with every street. Thus all houses between Front and Second streets are numbered in the first hundred, and at Second street a new hundred begins; the even numbers being on the southern side, and the odd ones on the northern side of the street. The streets running parallel to the river are numbered from the river, beginning with Front, then Second, Third, and so on, until the furthest western limit of the city is reached. Market street, originally called High street, runs between Chestnut and Filbert, dividing the city into north and south. The houses on the streets crossing Market begin their numbers at that street, running both north and south, each street representing an additional hundred. With this naming of streets and numbering of houses, no stranger can ever lose himself in Philadelphia. The name and number of street and house will always tell him just where he is. Thus if he finds himself at 836 North Sixth street, he knows he is eight squares north of Market street, and six squares west of the Delaware River.

The original city was bounded by the Delaware River on the east, and the Schuylkill on the west, and extended north and south half a mile on either side of Market street. Even before the present century it had outgrown its original limits in a northerly and southerly direction, and a number of suburbs had sprung up around it, each of which had its own corporation. The names of these suburbs were, most of them, borrowed from London. Southwark faced the river to the south; Moyamensing was just west of Southwark; Spring Garden, Kensington, Northern Liberties, Germantown, Roxborough, and Frankford were on the north, and West Philadelphia west of the Schuylkill. In 1854 these suburbs, so long divided from the "city" merely by geographical lines, were incorporated with it; and the City of Philadelphia was made to embrace the entire county of Philadelphia—a territory twenty-three miles long, with an area of nearly one hundred and thirty square miles. It thus became in size the largest city in the country, while it stands only second in population.

The old city was laid out with great economy as to space, the streets being as narrow as though land were really scarce in the new country when it was planned. Market street extends from the Delaware westward—a broad, handsome avenue, occupied principally by wholesale stores. It is indebted, both for its name and width, to the market houses, which from an early date to as late as 1860, if not later, occupied the centre of the street; long, low, unsightly structures, thronged early in the morning, and especially on market days, with buyers and sellers, while market wagons lined the sides of the street. The same kind of structures still occupy certain localities of Second, Callowhill, Spring Garden and Bainbridge streets. But those in Market street have disappeared, and substantial and handsome market buildings have been erected on or near the street, instead of in its centre.

A century ago the business of Philadelphia was confined principally to Front street, from Walnut to Arch. Now Second street presents the most extended length of retail stores in the country, and business has spread both north and south almost indefinitely, and is fast creeping westward. Market street presents a double line of business houses, from river to river. Chestnut, the fashionable promenade and locality of the finest hotels and retail stores, is invaded by business beyond Broad, and Arch street beyond Tenth; while Eighth street, even more than Chestnut the resort of shoppers, is, for many squares, built up by large and handsome retail stores. Broad street, lying between Thirteenth and Fifteenth, is the handsomest avenue in Philadelphia. It is fifteen miles in length, and one hundred and thirteen feet in width, and contains many of the finest public buildings and private residences in the city. Ridgway Library, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, Horticultural Hall, Academy of Music, Broad Street Theatre, Union League Club House, Masonic Temple, Academy of Fine Arts, besides some of the most elegant religious edifices, are located on this street.

At the intersection of Broad and Market, where were once four little squares left in the original plan of the city, and known as Penn Square, are being constructed the vast Public Buildings of the city. They are of white marble, four hundred and eighty-six and one-half feet long by four hundred and seventy feet wide, and four stories high, covering an area of four and one-half acres, not including a large court in the centre. The central tower will, when completed, be four hundred and fifty feet high, and the total cost of the buildings over ten millions of dollars. This building presents a most imposing appearance, whether viewed from Market or Broad streets. The Masonic Temple, just to the north, is one of the handsomest of its kind in America. It is a solid granite structure, in the Norman style, most elaborately ornamented, and with a tower two hundred and thirty feet high. Its interior is finished in a costly manner, and after the several styles of architecture. The Academy of Music is one of the largest opera houses in America, being capable of seating three thousand persons.

Third street is the banking and financial centre of Philadelphia; on Walnut street are found the greatest proportion of insurance offices; South street is the cheap retail street, and is crowded with shoppers, especially on market days, and the Jews reign here supreme. Bainbridge street (once Shippen) east of Broad represents the squalor and crime of the city. "Old clo'" and second-hand stores of all descriptions alternate with low drinking places, and occupy forlorn and tumble-down tenements. All races and colors, and both sexes mingle here, and the man who sighs for missionary work need go no further than this quarter.

Chestnut street is, next to Broad, the handsomest in the city. The buildings are all of comparatively recent construction, and are many of them handsome and costly. On Market street the past century still manifests itself in quaint houses of two or three stories in height, sometimes built of alternate black and red bricks, and occasionally with queer dormer windows, wedged in between more stately and more modern neighbors. It will be some time before the street becomes thoroughly modernized, and we can scarcely wish that it may become so, for the city would thus lose much of its quaint interest.

One of the characteristics of Philadelphia which strikes the traveler is that it wears an old-time air, far more so than Boston or New York. Boston cannot straighten her originally crooked streets, but her thought and spirit are entirely of the nineteenth century. New York is intensely modern, the few relics of the past which still remain contrasting and emphasizing still more strongly the life and bustle and business of to-day. Philadelphia is a quiet city. Its people do not rush hither and thither, as though but one day remained in which to accomplish a life work. They take time to walk, to eat, to sleep, and to attend to their business. In brief, they take life far more easily and slowly than their metropolitan neighbors. They do not enter into wild speculative schemes; they have no such Stock Exchange, where bulls and bears roar and paw the ground, or where they may make or lose fortunes in less time than it takes to eat one's dinner. They are a steady, plodding people, accumulating handsome fortunes in solid, legitimate ways. There is little of the rustle and roar of the elder city; save for the continual ring and rattle of the street cars, which cross the city in every direction, many of its quarters are as quiet as a country village. Its early Quaker settlers have stamped it with the quiet and placidity which is the leading trait of their sect; and though the Quaker garb is seen less and less often upon the streets, the early stamp seems to have been indelible.

Philadelphia retains more of the old customs, old houses, and, perhaps, old laws, than any other city in the country. The Quaker City lawyer carries his brief in a green bag, as the benches of the Inner Temple used to do in Penn's time. The baker cuts a tally before the door each morning, just as the old English baker used to do three centuries ago. After a death has occurred in it, a house is put into mourning, having the shutters bowed and tied with black ribbon, not to be opened for at least a year. There are laws (seldom executed, it is true, but still upon the statute-books), against profanity and Sabbath-breaking, and even regulating the dress of women.

Some of the streets of Philadelphia bear strongly the marks of the past. Those, especially, near the river, which were built up in the early days, have not yet been entirely renovated; while some ancient buildings of historic interest have been preserved with jealous care. First and foremost among the latter is Independence Hall, occupying the square upon Chestnut street between Fifth and Sixth streets—no doubt, considered an imposing edifice at the time of its erection, but now overshadowed by the business palaces which surround it. It was here that the second Colonial Congress met; here that the Declaration of Independence was adopted; and here that the United States Congress assembled, until the seat of the General Government was removed to Washington, in 1800. In Congress Hall, in the second story of this building, Washington delivered his Farewell Address. The building is now preserved with great care. The hall where the Declaration of Independence was signed is decorated with portraits of the signers, and contains, among other objects of interest, as before stated, the bell which pealed out freedom to all.

Next in historic importance is Carpenters' Hall, between Third and Fourth streets. The first Continental Congress met here, and here the first words pointing toward a collision with the mother country were spoken in Philadelphia.

When William Penn made his first visit to Philadelphia, on October twenty-fourth, 1682, he set foot upon his new possessions at the Blue Anchor Landing, at the mouth of Dock Creek, in the vicinity of what is now the corner of Front and Dock streets. Here stood the Blue Anchor Inn, the first house built within the ancient limits of the city. Then, and long afterwards, Dock Creek was a considerable stream, running through the heart of the town. But, in course of time, the water became offensive, from the drainage of the city, and it was finally arched over, and turned into a sewer. The winding of Dock street is accounted for by the fact that it follows the former course of the creek. Sloops once anchored and discharged their cargoes where now stands Girard Bank, on Third street, below Chestnut.

Between Chestnut and Market streets, Second and Front, is found Letitia street, where long stood the first brick house built in the Province, erected for the use of Penn himself, and named after his daughter Letitia. He directed that it should "be pitched in the middle of the platt of the town, facing the harbor." The bricks, wooden carvings and other materials, were imported from England. At the time of its construction a forest swept down to the river in front, forming a natural park, where deer ranged at will. Letitia House became a lager beer saloon, the front painted with foaming pots of beer. But business interests claimed the site and the old house was removed and carefully re-erected in Fairmount Park.

The old Slate Roof House, long one of the ancient landmarks, on Second street below Chestnut, the residence of William Penn on his second visit to this country, during which visit John, his only "American" son was born, and where other noted persons lived and died, or at least visited, was removed in 1867, to make room for the Commercial Exchange.

Not far off, on Second street, north of Market, is Christ's Church, occupying the site of the first church erected by the followers of Penn. The present edifice was begun in 1727. Washington's coach and four used to draw up proudly before it each Sabbath, and himself and Lady Washington, Lord Howe, Cornwallis, Benedict Arnold, Andre, Benjamin Franklin, De Chastellux, the Madisons, the Lees, Patrick Henry and others whose names have become incorporated in American history, have worshiped here. In the aisles are buried various persons, great men in their day, but forgotten now. The chime of bells in the lofty tower is the oldest in America, and were cast in London. This chime joined the State House bell on that memorable Fourth of July, when the latter proclaimed liberty throughout the land. Just opposite this church is a small street, opening into Second street, its eastern end closed by a tall block of warehouses. This street contained Stephen Girard's stores and houses.

The great elm tree, at Kensington, under which Penn made his famous treaty with the Indians, remained until 1800, when it was blown down. An insignificant stone now marks the spot, being inclosed by a fence, and surrounded by stone and lumber yards. An elm overshadows it—possibly, a lineal descendant of the historic tree.

There is an older religious edifice in Philadelphia than Christ's Church. It is the old Swedes' Church, erected in 1697, not far from Front and Christian streets, by early Swedish missionaries. Though insignificant, compared with modern churches, it was regarded as a magnificent structure by the Quakers, Swedes and Indians, who first beheld it. The inside carvings, bell and communion service, were a gift of the Swedish king. In the graveyard which surrounds it are found the dead of nearly two centuries ago, some of the slate-stones over the older graves having been imported from the mother country. Here sleeps Sven Schute and his descendants, once, under Swedish dominion, lords of all the land on which Philadelphia now stands. None of his name now lives. Here lie buried, forgotten, Bengtossens, Peterssens, and Bonds. Wilson, the ornithologist, was a frequent attendant at this church, early in the present century, and he lies in the church yard, having been buried there by his own request, as it was "a silent, shady place, where the birds would be apt to come and sing over his grave." The English sparrows have built their nests above it.

An ancient house possessing special historic interest stands on Front street, a few doors above Dock. It is built of glazed black bricks, with a hipped roof, and, though it was a place of note in its day, occupied by one generation after another of the ruling Quakers, it has now degenerated into a workingmen's coffee-house. To it the Friends conducted Franklin on his return from England. War was not yet declared, but there were mutterings in the distance; all awaited Franklin's counsels, sitting silently, as is their wont, waiting for the spirit to move to utterance, when Franklin stood up and cried out: "To arms, my friends, to arms!"

Franklin has left many associations in the city of his adoption. As a boy of seventeen he trudged up High, now Market street, munching one roll, with another under his arm, friendless and unknown. Even his future wife smiled in ridicule as he passed by. To-day statues are erected to his memory, and institutions named after him. The Philadelphia Library, the oldest and richest in the city, claims him as one of its original founders. In 1729, the Junto, a little association of tradesmen of which Franklin was a member, used to meet in the chamber of a little house in Pewter-platter alley, to exchange their books. Franklin suggested that there should be a small annual subscription, in order to increase the stock. To-day the library contains many thousand volumes, with many rare and valuable manuscripts and pamphlets. This library contains Penn's desk and clock, John Penn's cabinet, and a colossal bust of Minerva which overlooked the deliberations of the Continental Congress. In an old graveyard at the corner of Fifth and Arch, a section of iron railing in the stone wall which surrounds it permits the passer to view the plain marble slab which covers the remains of Franklin and his wife.

Speaking of libraries, the Apprentices' Library, on the opposite corner of Fifth and Arch, overlooks Franklin's grave. It was established by the Quakers, and dates back to 1783. The apprentice system has died out, and the library is almost forgotten.

As late as 1876, stood the old Quaker Almshouse, on Willings alley, between Third and Fourth streets, of which Longfellow gives this description in his poem, "Evangeline:"—

Here Evangeline came when the pestilence fell on the city, when—

And here Evangeline found Gabriel. The ancient building is now leveled, and only the poem remains.

Germantown, now incorporated in Philadelphia, is rich in historic associations. Stenton, a country seat near Germantown, was for generations the centre of the social life of the Quakers. It was built in 1731, by James Logan, and was finished with secret passages and underground ways, to be used in case of attack by Indians and others. The Chew House at Germantown was, during the Revolution, used by Colonel Musgrove and six companies, for a long time. The old Johnson House had its hall door, which is still preserved, riddled by cannon. In many private lawns and gardens of that suburb royalists and rebels sleep peacefully side by side. A house, now quaint in its antiquity, at the intersection of Main street and West Walnut lane, was used during the Revolution as a hospital and amputating room. The old Wistar House, built in 1744, played a part in the events of the last century, and contains furniture which once belonged to Franklin and Count Zinzendorf. There is a room filled with relics of early times.

In 1755 the corner stone of Pennsylvania Hospital was laid. This corner stone having been recently uncovered, in making alterations to the building, the following inscription, of which Franklin was the author, was discovered: "In the Year of Christ, MDCCLV, George the Second happily reigning (for he sought the happiness of his people)—Philadelphia flourishing (for its inhabitants were public spirited)—This Building, By the Bounty of the Government, and of many private persons, was piously founded For the Relief of the Sick and Miserable. May the God of Mercies Bless the undertaking!"

A noticeable and commendable feature of Philadelphia is its many workingmen's homes. In New York the middle classes, whose incomes are but moderate, are compelled to seek residences in cheap flats and tenement houses, or else go into the country, at the daily expense of car or ferry rides. But in Philadelphia flats are unknown, and tenement life—several families crowded under a single roof—confined almost entirely to the more wretched quarters of the city. There are streets upon streets of comfortable and neat dwellings, marble-faced and marble-stepped, with their prim white shutters, two or three stories in height, and containing from six to nine rooms, with all the conveniences of gas, bath-room and water, which are either rented at moderate rates or owned outright by single families, who may possibly rent out a room or two to lodgers. Philadelphia may have less elegant public and business edifices than New York, but her dwelling houses stand as far more desirable monuments to the prosperity of a people than the splendor united with the squalor of the metropolis.

The manufactures of Philadelphia furnish the foundation of her prosperity. Her iron foundries produce more than one-third of the manufactured iron of the country, and number among them some of the largest in America. The Port Richmond Iron Works of I. P. Morris & Company cover, with their various buildings, five acres of ground. The Baldwin Locomotive Works, on Broad street, founded in 1831, employ a large force of men. It takes eighteen hundred men one day to complete and make ready for service a single locomotive; yet these works turn out three hundred locomotives a year. Some of the largest men-of-war in the world have also been built at the navy yards in Philadelphia and League Island. Among them is the old Pennsylvania, of one hundred and twenty guns. Besides her iron works there are many mills and factories. Miles of carpet, of superior quality, are woven every day, besides immense quantities of other woolen and cotton goods and shoes. Her retail stores, taken as a whole, will not compare in size and elegance with those of New York, though there are two or three exceptions to this rule.

The headquarters of the Pennsylvania Railroad is at Philadelphia, and there is a grand depot on Broad street, near Market, which is palatial in its appointments.

Of her places of amusement, the Academy of Music ranks first in size. There are numerous theatres, among which the Walnut Street Theatre is the oldest, and the Arch Street Theatre the most elegantly finished and furnished, and the best managed. With these and other places of amusement, are associated the names of all the prominent musicians, actors and actresses of the past and present. The Academy of Music was not built when Jenny Lind visited this country, but it was ready for occupancy only a few years later; and has witnessed the triumphs of many a prima donna, now forgotten by the public, which then worshiped her. Forrest began his theatrical career in Philadelphia; and the names of noted tragedians and comedians who have come and gone upon her boards are legion.

Of churches Philadelphia has many, and beautiful ones. On three corners of Broad and Arch streets tall and slender spires point heavenward, rising from three of the most costly churches in the city. Surpassing them all, however, is the Roman Catholic Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, on Logan Square. It is of red sandstone, in the Corinthian style, and is surmounted by a dome two hundred and ten feet high. The interior is cruciform and richly frescoed. The altar piece is by Brumidi.

Also, fronting on Logan Square, at the corner of Nineteenth and Race streets, is the Academy of Natural Sciences, containing a library of twenty-six thousand volumes, and most extensive, valuable and interesting collections in zoÖlogy, ornithology, geology, mineralogy, conchology, ethnology, archÆology and botany. The museum contains over two hundred and fifty thousand specimens, and Agassiz pronounced it one of the finest natural science collections in the world. It also contains a perfect skeleton of a whale, a complete ancient saurian, twenty-five feet long, and the fossil remains of a second saurian so much larger than the first that it fed upon it.

Franklin Institute is devoted to science and the mechanical arts, and contains a library of fifteen thousand volumes. The Mercantile Library occupies a stately edifice, on Tenth street below Market, and contains over fifty thousand volumes, exclusive of periodicals and papers. On an average, five hundred books are loaned daily, from this institution.

The newspapers of Philadelphia rank second only to those of New York. The Ledger has a magnificent building at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut, complete in all its appointments, from engine rooms, in the basement, to type-setting rooms in the top story. The Times building, at the corner of Eighth and Chestnut, is also very fine. The Public Record building, newly finished, on Chestnut street above Ninth, near the new Post Office, surpasses all others. It represents the profits of a daily penny paper, giving news in a condensed form, to meet the wants of a working and busy public.

Philadelphia once represented the literary centre of the country. It took the lead in periodic literature half a century ago, and claimed, as residents, some of the most brilliant novelists, essayists and poets of the day. But the glory of that age has departed. The Continent, a weekly magazine, sought to revive the prestige of the city, but soon removed to New York, where it died.

The Medical Colleges of Philadelphia have long stood in the front rank, and have attracted students from all parts of the country. A Woman's Medical College is in successful operation, with a fine hospital connected with it.

Philadelphia has an educational system embracing schools of different grades, and a High School. But it pays its teachers less salaries than most of the other cities, and the standard of the schools is not so high as it should be, in consequence. Girard College should not be overlooked, while speaking of educational institutions. Architecturally, it is a magnificent marble building, in Grecian style. It is located near the Schuylkill River, on Girard avenue. When Girard selected the location for his proposed college, it was so far out in the country, that he never thought the city would creep up to it. But to-day the college is inclosed by it, and its high stone walls block many a street, to the inconvenience of the people of the neighborhood. It was established for the practical education of orphan boys, and one of the provisions of its founder—himself a free thinker—was, that no religious instruction should be imparted to the pupils, and no clergyman be permitted to enter its doors; a provision which is widely interpreted, to the effect that no sectarian bias is given in the college.

The United States Mint, located on Chestnut street, above Thirteenth, is copied from a Grecian temple at Athens. It contains a very valuable collection of coins, embracing those of almost every period of the world and every nation. The Custom House is an imitation of the Pantheon at Athens. The new Post Office is on Ninth street, extending from Chestnut to Market. It is a spacious granite structure, in the Renaissance style, four stories in height, with an iron dome, and when completed will cost about four millions of dollars.

On the opposite corner from the Post Office is the Continentel Hotel, a spacious structure which, when erected, was the largest of its kind in the country. It is now exceeded in size by several other hotels in other cities, but it is noted for the elegance and excellence of the entertainment it offers its guests. Girard Hotel is immediately opposite, and ranks second only to the Continental.

The Eastern Penitentiary is on Fairmount avenue, on what was once known as Cherry Hill. In it is practiced the plan of solitary confinement for prisoners. When Dickens paid his first visit to America, more than forty years ago, he visited this prison, and was so moved to pity by the solitude of its inmates, that he wrote a touching account of one of the prisoners, in whom he was especially interested. But this very prisoner, when he was set at liberty, soon committed another crime which sent him back to his silent and solitary cell, and every subsequent release was followed by a subsequent crime and subsequent imprisonment. Finally, when Dickens had been in his grave for years, the old man, still hale and hearty, but bearing the marks of age, was once more set free. Attention was attracted to him by the newspapers, as having been the prison hero of Dickens. The public became interested in him, and an effort was made to place him beyond the temptation of crime, so that he might go down to his grave a free man. But before many months had elapsed, life in the outer world became irksome to him, and he returned, by his well-beaten path, back to the penitentiary. He was very proud of the notice which Dickens had bestowed upon him, and it seemed to more than compensate for the loss of his liberty.

When Penn visited Philadelphia, in its infant days, he wished to preserve the bluff overlooking the Delaware, to be forever used as a public park and promenade. But the traffic of Front street now rattles where he would have had green trees and grass. Philadelphia has no pleasant outlook upon the river, to correspond with the Battery of New York. The wharves are lined with craft of every description, and the flags of many nations are to be seen in her harbor; but commerce creeps down to the very shores, and Delaware avenue, which faces the river, is dirty and crowded with traffic. Seen from the river the city makes a pleasing outline against the sky, with its many spires and domes. Smith's Island and Windmill Island lie opposite the city, a short distance away, and Camden is on the New Jersey shore. Ferry boats continually ply across the Delaware, carrying to and fro the travelers of a continent.

Philadelphia is not without its public breathing places, where the residents of its narrow streets may enjoy fine trees and green grass. When the city was first planned, four squares, of about seven acres each, were reserved in its four quarters, two each side of Market street, and are now known as Washington, Franklin, Logan and Rittenhouse Squares. Washington Square is at Sixth and Walnut, and was once a Potters' Field. Many soldiers, victims of the smallpox and camp fever, were buried there during the Revolution. Franklin Square, at Sixth and Race was also once a burying, ground. A fountain now occupies its centre. At Eighteenth and Race is Logan Square, where in 1864 was held the great Sanitary Fair. The entire square was roofed over and boarded up, the trunks of the trees standing as pillars in the aisles of the large building. Its companion, Rittenhouse Square, at Eighteenth and Walnut streets, is the centre of the aristocratic quarter of the city. It is surrounded by most elegant mansions and costly churches. Independence Square lies back of Independence Hall.

There are a few other smaller and newer squares scattered throughout the city, but its great pride is Fairmount Park, which is unsurpassed in its natural advantages by any park in the world. This park contains nearly three thousand acres, embracing eleven miles in length along the Schuylkill and Wissahickon rivers. The nucleus of this park was the waterworks and reservoir, the former situated on the Schuylkill, in the northwestern part of the city, and the latter on a natural elevation close by, from which the entire park takes its name, while a small tract of land between the two was included in the original park. There was added the beautiful estate of Lemon Hill, once the country seat of Robert Morris, with the strip along the Schuylkill which led to it. In course of time Egglesfield, Belmont, Lansdowne and George's Hill, on the opposite side of the river, were added, either by gift or purchase, and eventually the tract of land on the eastern bank, extending from Lemon Hill to the Wissahickon, and along both banks of the latter as far as Chestnut Hill. This park, besides the beautiful river and romantic stream which it incloses, includes hills and valleys, charming ravines and picturesque rocks.

While the city has gained much, the true lover of nature has lost something, by the conversion of this tract of land into a park. While it was still private property, nature was at her loveliest. Wild flowers blossomed in the dells, and little streams gurgled and tumbled over stones down the ravines, while vines and foliage softened the rugged outlines of the rocky hillsides. But the landscape gardener has been there. The dells are converted into gentle slopes; the wild flowers and ferns which beautified them have given place to green sward; one of the prettiest of the brooks has been converted into a sewer and covered over. The Wissahickon, once the most delightful of wild and wayward streams, is now, for a considerable part of its way, imprisoned between banks as straight and unpicturesque as those of a canal. The pretty country lanes have been obliterated, and the trees which overshadowed them have disappeared. Primness and stableness is now the rule. Art has sought to improve nature, and has almost obliterated it, instead. Yet even the landscape gardener cannot succeed in making the Schuylkill entirely unattractive; and velvet turf and trees waving in the wind, even though the latter be pruned into a tiresome regularity, are always more grateful than the cobble stones and brick pavements of the city streets, and thousands every day seek rest or recreation at Fairmount.

Belmont Mansion is now a restaurant. Solitude, a villa built in 1785 by John Penn, grandson of William Penn, and the cottage of Tom Moore, not far from Belmont where he spent some months during his visit to America, are among the attractions of the park.

The ZoÖlogical Gardens are included in the park, and are situated on the western bank of the Schuylkill, opposite Lemon Hill. Here is found the finest collection of European and American animals in America, and the daily concourse of visitors is very great. The several bridges which span the Schuylkill are very picturesque. In the winter, when the river at Fairmount, above the dam, is frozen over, the ice is covered with skaters, and the bank is thronged with spectators.

Laurel Hill, one of the most beautiful cemeteries of the country, adjoins Fairmount Park, and is inclosed by it, seeming to make it a part of the park. Mount Vernon Cemetery is nearly opposite Woodlands, in West Philadelphia, and contains the Drexel Mausoleum, the costliest in America.

Fairmount was the site of the Centennial Exhibition in 1876, and numerous and costly buildings were erected there. Of these many were removed at once at the close of the Exhibition. The main building, a mammoth structure, covering eleven acres, was retained for several years for a permanent exhibition building, but was removed in 1883. Memorial Hall, erected by the State, at a cost of $1,500,000, standing on an elevated terrace between George's Hill and the river, and used as an art gallery during the Exhibition, still remains, and is designed for a permanent art and industrial collection. North of Memorial Hall stands the Horticultural Building, a picturesque structure, in the Mooresque style. It is a conservatory, filled with tropical and other plants, and is surrounded by thirty-five acres devoted to horticultural purposes.

In October, 1882, Philadelphia celebrated her Bi-centennial, and commemorated the landing of Penn, who first stepped upon her shores two hundred years before. This Bi-centennial lasted for three days, which were celebrated, the first as "Landing Day," the second as "Trades' Day," and the third as "Festival Day." On the first day, October twenty-fourth, the State House bell rang two hundred times, and the chimes of the churches were rung. The ship Welcome, which two hundred years before had conveyed Penn to our shores, made a second arrival, and a mimic Penn again visited the Blue Anchor, still standing to receive him, held treaty with the Indians, and then paraded through the city, followed by a large and brilliant procession, which presented the harmless anachronism of the Proprietor of two hundred years ago hob-nobbing with the city officials and others of the nineteenth century. On the second day the different trades and manufacturing interests made a great display. In the evening Pennsylvania history was represented by ten tableaux; eleven tableaux presented the illustrious women of history; and ten tableaux gave the principal scenes in the Romayana, the great poem of India. The display of this night pageant was gorgeous and beautiful beyond anything ever before seen in this country. On the third day the morning was devoted to a parade of Knights Templar, and the evening to a reception at the Academy of Music and Horticultural Hall. A musical festival was held during the day; also a naval regatta upon the Schuylkill, a bicycle meet at Fairmount, and archery contests at Agricultural Hall. During the entire three days Philadelphia held holiday. Her streets and pavements were crowded with throngs of people from the country, and elevated seats along the principal streets were constantly filled, at high prices.

If William Penn could really, in person, have stepped upon the scene, and beheld the city of his planning as it is to-day, he would undoubtedly be astonished beyond expression. In magnitude it must exceed his wildest dreams; in commercial and manufacturing enterprises its progress reads like some fable of the east. He would look almost in vain for his country residence upon the Delaware, once surrounded by noble forests, and we fear he would scorn the Blue Anchor and all its present associations. Time works wonders. Nearly a million people now find their homes where, in 1683, one year after Penn's arrival, there were but one hundred houses. In 1684 the population of Philadelphia was estimated at 2,500. In 1800 it had increased to 41,220. In 1850 it was 121,376. From this period to 1860, its growth was almost marvelous, at the latter period its inhabitants numbering 565,529. The census of 1880 gave it a population of 846,984.

The residents of Philadelphia include every nationality and class of people. The Quakers are in a small minority, though they have done much to mould the character of the city. Irish and Germans predominate among foreigners. Italians, French, Spanish, and Chinese are not so numerous as in New York. The society of the Quaker City bears the reputation of great exclusiveness. While culture will admit to the charmed circle in Boston, and money buys a ready passport to social recognition in New York, in Philadelphia the door is closed to all pretensions except those of family. Boston asks "How much do you know?" New York, "How much are you worth?" but in Philadelphia the question is, "Who was your grandfather?"

Philadelphia ranks fourth in commerce among the cities of the Union. As a manufacturing city it occupies the very front rank. With the inexhaustible coal and iron fields of Pennsylvania at its back, her manufacturing interests are certain to grow in extent and importance, maintaining the ascendency they have already gained. Its prosperity has a firm basis. Like all large cities, there is squalor, misery and crime within its borders; but the proportion is smaller than in some other cities, and the aggregate amount of domestic content, owing to its many comfortable homes, much greater. Thus Philadelphia offers an example, in more than one direction, which might be emulated by her sister cities. What she will have become when her tri-centennial comes around, who shall dare to predict?

CHAPTER XXVII.