1651 miles above New Orleans, and 450 miles above St. Louis. "The river, sometimes called the Galena, on whose rocky shelf this town is built, is more properly an arm of the Mississippi River, sitting up between lofty bluffs, around whose base it winds with picturesque effect. The streets rise one above another, and communicate with each other by flights of steps, so that the houses on the higher streets. are perched like an eagle's eyrie, overlooking the rest, and commanding an extensive prospect. Pleasant churches meet the eye on the first ledge or terrace above the levee, and private residences wearing an aspect of neatness and comfort adorn each successive height." The city is well paved, and the houses are built mostly of brick. It is lighted with gas, and contains, beside the county buildings, a number of churches and public schools, and several newspaper offices. It is governed by a Mayor and Council. In 1870, the population was 7019.

Galena is one of the oldest and most interesting towns in the State, but owes its importance entirely to the great lead mines by which it is surrounded in every direction. Considerable quantities of copper are found in connection with the lead. It is estimated that these mines. are capable of yielding 150,000,000 pounds annually for an indefinite. period in the future. Mineral from some eight or ten mining localities in Wisconsin is sent to Galena for shipment down the Mississippi, there being regular steamboat communication between Galena and the river towns. The city is connected with all points east and west by railway.

The lead mines lie in every direction around the city. The country is hilly, and has a desolate and bleak appearance. A visitor thus describes it:

'Every hill is spotted with little mounds of yellow earth, and is as full of holes as a worm-eaten cheese. Some winding road at length brings you to the top of one of these bare, bleak hills, and to a larger mound of the same yellowish earth, with which the whole country in sight is mottled. On the top of this mound of earth stands a windlass, and a man is winding up tubs full of dirt and rock, which continually increase the pile under his feet. Beneath him, forty, fifty, a hundred feet under ground is the miner. As we look around on every ridge, see the windlass-men, and know that beneath each one a smithy-faced miner is burrowing by the light of a dim candle, let us descend into the mines and see the miners at their work. The windlass-man makes a loop in the end of the rope, into which you put one

foot, and, clasping, at the same time, the rope with one hand, slowly you begin to go down; down, it grows darker and darker; a damp, grave-like smell comes up from below, and you grow dizzy with the continual whirling around, until, when you reach the bottom and look up at the one small spot of daylight through which you came down, you start with alarm as the great mass of rocks and earth over your head seem to be swaying and tumbling in. You draw your breath a little more freely, however, when you perceive that it was only your own dizziness, or the scudding of clouds across the one spot of visible sky, and you take courage to look about you. Two or three dark little passages, from four to six feet high, and about three feet wide, lead off into the murky recesses of the mine; these are called, in mining parlance, drifts. You listen a little while, and there is a dull ‘thud! thud!' comes from each one, and tells of something alive away off in the gloom, and, candle in hand, you start in search of it. You eye the rocky walls and roof uneasily as, half bent, you thread the narrow passage, until, on turning some angle in the drift, you catch a glimpse of the miner, he looks small and dark, and mole-like, as on his knees, and pick in hand, he is prying from a perpendicular crevice in the rock, a lump of mineral as large as his head, and which, by the light of his dim candle, flashes and gleams like a huge carbuncle; or, perhaps, it is a horizontal sheet or vein of mineral that presents its edge to the miner; it is imbedded in the solid rock, which must be picked and blasted down to get at the mineral. He strikes the rock with his pick, and it rings as though he had struck an anvil. You cannot conceive how, with that strip of gleaming metal, seeming like a magician's wand, to beckon him on and on, he could gnaw, as it were, his narrow way for hundreds of feet through the rock. But large, indeed, you think, must be his organ of hope, and resolute his perseverance, to do it with no such glittering prize in sight. Yet such is often the case, and many a miner has toiled for years, and in the whole time has discovered scarcely enough mineral to pay for the powder used. Hope, however, in the breast of the miner, has as many lives as a cat, and on no day, in all his toilsome years, could you go down into his dark and crooked hole, a hundred feet from grass and sunshine, but he would tell you that he was 'close to it now,' in a few days he hoped to strike a lode (pronounced among miners as though it was spelled leed), and so a little longer and a little longer, and his life of toil wears away, while his work holds him with a fascination equalled only by a gambler's passion for his cards. Lodes or

veins of mineral in the same vicinity run in the general direction. Those in the vicinity of Galena, run east and west. The crevice which contains the mineral, is usually perpendicular, and from 1 to 20 feet in width, extending from the cap rock, or the first solid rock above the mineral, to uncertain depths below, and is filled with large, loose rocks, and a peculiar red dirt, in which are imbedded masses of mineral. These masses are made up cubes, like those formed of crystallization, and many of them as geometrically correct as could be made with a compass and square. Before the mineral is broken, it is of the dull blue color of lead, but when broken, glistens like silver. Sometimes caves are broken into, whose roofs are frosted over with calcareous spar, as pure and white as the frost upon the window-pane in winter, and from dark crevices in the floor comes up the gurgling of streams that never saw the sun. The life of a miner is a dark and lonesome one. His drift is narrow, and will not admit of two abreast; therefore, there is but little conversation, and no jokes are bandied about from mouth to mouth by fellow-laborers. The alternations of hope and disappointment give, in the course of years, a subdued expression to his countenance. There are no certain indications by which the miner can determine the existence of a vein of mineral without sinking a shaft. Several methods are resorted to, however. The linear arrangement of any number of trees that are a little larger than the generality of their neighbors, is considered an indication of an opening underground corresponding to their arrangement. Depressions in the general surface are also favorable signs, and among the older miners there are yet some believers in the mystic power of witch-hazel and the divining-rod. In the largest number of cases, however, but little attention is paid to signs other than to have continuous ground—that is, to dig on the skirts of a ridge that is of good width on top, so that any vein that might be discovered would not run out too quickly on the other side of the ridge. On such ground the usual method of search is by suckering, as it is called. The miner digs a dozen or more holes, about 6 feet deep, and within a stone's throw of each other, and in some one of these he is likely to find a few pieces of mineral, the dip of certain strata of clay then indicates the direction in which he is to continue the search, in which, if he is so successful as to strike a lode, his fortune is made; in the other event, he is only the more certain that the lucky day is not far off."

The city derives its name from the French word signifying a lead mine. It was settled in 1826, and was then about 300 miles from the settlements. Previous to the war it was the home of President Grant.

In Madison county, is the sixth city of the State. It is situated on the left or east bank of the Mississippi River, 3 miles above the mouth of the Missouri River, 21 miles above St. Louis, 20 miles below the mouth of the Illinois, 76 miles southwest of Springfield, and 257 miles southwest of Chicago.

"The site of the city is quite uneven and broken, with high stony bluffs, and in front of it the Mississippi runs almost a due course from east to west." The city is one of the handsomest in the State, and is well built. It contains a splendid City Hall, 10 churches, one of which (the Cathedral) is a magnificent structure, 4 newspaper offices, and a number of flourishing public and private schools. Shurtleff College and the Monticello Female Seminary are located in the vicinity. The city is lighted with gas, and is governed by a Mayor and Council. In 1870, the population was 8665.

Alton is one of the principal towns on the Mississippi, and is actively engaged in the trade of that river and of the Missouri. It has direct railway communication with Chicago and Terre Haute, Indiana. It is engaged in manufactures to a considerable extent. Limestone for building purposes, bituminous coal, and clay for brick and earthen ware, are abundant in the vicinity.

Alton was first settled about the year 1808. The first settlers were much exposed to the savages, and lived in block houses for their mutual protection. The town was laid out about the year 1818. It grew slowly until 1832, when the Penitentiary of the State was located here. This gave a considerable impetus to Alton. The Penitentiary has since been removed to Joliet. In 1837, Alton was incorporated as a city.

Since the above description of Chicago was written, that city has been visited with the most terrible and destructive fire of modern times, and has suffered the loss of its entire business quarter and a large portion of its residence section. The entire quarter lying between the lake and the north branch of the Chicago River has been destroyed, and the larger and more important part of the district lying between the lake and the south branch of the river is also in ruins. It is estimated that 2000 acres of land have been burned over, about 20,000 houses destroyed, and a loss of about $300,000,000 entailed upon the citizens. Nearly 100,000 people were rendered homeless by the conflagration, many more were deprived of their accustomed means of support, and a large number of both sexes and all conditions perished either in the flames or from the effects of the disaster.

MISCELLANIES.

GREAT CONFLAGRATION IN CHICAGO.

The following account of the origin and progress of the fire is taken from Harper's Weekly :

The fire had an ignoble beginning. Late on Sunday evening, October 8th, 1871, a woman went into a stable on Dekoven street, near the river, on the west side, to milk a cow, carrying with her a kerosene lamp. This was kicked over by the cow, and the burning fluid scattered among the hay and straw. A single fireextinguisher on the premises, or the immediate application of water, would have confined the flames to the quarter where the fire began; but the engines were waited for, and when they arrived the firemen, stupefied by their exposure and exertions at a large fire the previous night, worked with less than their usual readiness and skill. The flames soon obtained headway. A high wind fanned them into fury, and they became uncontrollable. They sprang from house to house, and from square to square, until the district burned over the day before was reached. In the other direction the flames crossed the river north of Twelfth street to the south side, and threatened the business portion of the city.

The full extent of the danger was then for the first time realized; the firemen, already worn out and exhausted, worked like heroes, and the Mayor and other officials bestirred themselves to take measures for the protection of the city. But