The chess-board squares of the city plan, the legacy of the Quaker fathers, need a more ornate and diversified architecture-a larger variety of feature-to commend them to alien eyes. But the true Philadelphian regards with dismay the frantic buildings of New York,

the tortuous streets of Boston, the terraced prairie of Chicago-and finds, between the Schuylkill and the Delaware, the civic Paradise of the West. The domestic architecture of Philadelphia is exceedingly monotonous, and consists, for the most part, of long blocks of high and plain buildings, impinging upon the side-walks, with pressed-brick fronts, bearing white window shutters, and low steps and trimmings of white marble. These homes are commodious and respectable, indeed, but the continual repetition of one type of

form and colour through many leagues of streets becomes wearisome to the eye and brain. Any one who has taken morning walks through the cities of Holland-Haarlem, or Leyden, or Delft-finding the middle of the streets the only safe promenade, on account of the vigour and unanimity with which the maids are washing the house-fronts and steps, can understand another phase of many of the Philadelphian residence-streets, whose pavements and marble-work are scoured into perennial brightness and purity. The continually refreshed red and white of the interminable façades glares vividly through the limpid air, and almost seems to pulsate during the hot summer days. The happy mechanics and working men live in small houses of this description, erected by co-operative associations; and, by the annual payment of easily-saved amounts, in a few years they become absolute owners of their snug little homes. This device of co-operative building has been worked more extensively and successfully here than in any other city, and has given to Philadelphia a great population of peaceful and prosperous artisans, whose interests are all closely identified with those of the community at large. Communication between various parts of this far-extending line of contented workers is made cheap and easy by the best and most extensive tramway service in the world, served by more than twenty lines, with hundreds of miles of track.

About the embowered parks of Logan Square and Rittenhouse Square, and along the semi-rural avenues of West Philadelphia, Germantown, and Chestnut Hill, are hundreds of handsome mansions and villas, occupied by the wealthier classes of the population, and adorned with all the resources of Western art and culture. Out of the former Quaker commonwealth has grown an aristocracy of old and wealthy families, whose two centuries of traditions are relatively as venerable as those of the men whose ancestors fought under the Norman standard at Hastings. Farther back in the State, among the valleys of the Alleghanies, are the quaint old hamlets of the Moravians, still sacred to religion and simplicity of life; the singular communities of the Amish and the Dunkards, as primitive as any villages in the Black Forest or the land of the Wends; the convents of German pietists at Ephrata, now nearly two centuries old; the Yankee towns in the Valley of Wyoming, celebrated in Thomas Campbell's great poem; whole counties of the wealthy and industrious descendants of the ancient German immigrants, proud of their name of "Pennsylvania Dutch," and the best farmers in America ; and myriads of Welsh miners, still clinging to their rasping language, with their own newspapers and churches, and perpetuating the old Cymric melodies in extraordinary Eisteddfods. The State has nearly four million inhabitants, and their commercial metropolis is the City of Brotherly Love.

Philadelphia is the foremost manufacturing centre in America, in the number of its factories, the number of persons employed, and the value of the material used. The concentration of manufacturing interests here has been stimulated by the proximity of vast and inexhaustible deposits of iron and coal in the adjacent mountains of Pennsylvania. Of the twelve railways which converge at this point, the largest and most powerful pass through the mining country. Although this is the fourth city in the Republic, in respect to maritime commerce, the chief interest still dwells in manufacturing, and the works are spread over so large an area, that an air of comparative quiet is given

to the city, and there is much less appearance of activity than in New York or Chicago.

Philadelphia surpasses all other American cities in the number, size, and convenience of its market-houses, which are large and spacious brick buildings, constructed with a view to obtaining the greatest possible commodiousness, with abundant light and ventilation. There are forty of these, in various localities, where all manner of provisions are sold at low prices, while the freshness and purity of the wares are insured by careful inspection. The weekly supply of the city includes 5,000 cattle and 18,000 sheep, mostly from Texas; 12,000 hogs, from Western Pennsylvania and Ohio; immense quantities of fish and oysters from the adjacent waters; and rich and inexhaustible supplies of dairy products, fruits, and vegetables from the adjacent counties and Southern New Jersey.

The Delaware river, in front of the city, is too broad and deep to be bridged, but the smaller streams of the Schuylkill and the Wissahickon have given fine opportunities to the pontifical architects of this region. Twelve bridges cross the Schuylkill, some of masonry and others of iron, forming beautiful and conspicuous objects in all the suburban landscapes. The Girard-Avenue Bridge, in Fairmount Park, is the widest in the world, its roadway and side-walks covering a breadth of a hundred feet, with a length of a third of a mile. It is of iron, on piers of masonry, and cost £280,000.

Chestnut Street is the most brilliant and interesting thoroughfare in the city, the seat of the large hotels and the most popular shops. It runs westward from the Delaware river to the Schuylkill, and thence through the suburban beauties of West Philadelphia. Here is the grand promenade of the leisurely classes, and the scene presented on a bright afternoon is full of life and gaiety. Among the typical streets of America, this stands second only to Broadway. Not the least of its attractions is the presence of the ladies of Philadelphia, the fair descendants of Penn's magnates, and of those famous beauties for whose favours the young officers of the British army, a hundred years ago, formed the chivalric Order of the Blended Rose, and rode in the lists, clad in medieval costumes of white and red silk. The culture of the Boston ladies, the brilliancy of those of New York, the rare beauty of the Baltimoreans, find their counterpart here in delicate grace and exquisite taste. The sobriety of life and costume, the primitive simplicity of demeanour, which William Penn bequeathed to his city, remain now as a saving leaven in the midst of the wealth and luxury of the modern metropolis, no longer visible in their original and pronounced quaintness, but profoundly influencing the conduct and conversation of the people. The State of Connecticut, far away in New England, has won the title of "The Land of Steady Habits;" but this south-eastern section of Pennsylvania, with its fair repose and orderliness of existence, certainly merits the name far more than its bustling Puritan sister.

On and near Chestnut Street are the great hotels-the Continental, Colonnade, Girard, and others-where each Boniface strives to surpass his rivals in height of façade, magnitude of halls, and number of rooms. These palaces of the nomadic sovereigns of America are at once more luxurious and costly, and less picturesque, than the rudimentary taverns of the colonial era. The old-time inns of Philadelphia had names and devices

as quaint as any ever seen in merry England. Among them were the "Goose and Gridiron," the "Enniskillen Castle," the "Hornet and Peacock," the "Lemon Tree," and the "Red Lion." The "White Horse," the "Black Bear," and the "Bald Eagle

are still patronised by rural Pennsylvanians. Here are some rude rhymes from the fronts

The first house built in Philadelphia is still in existence, having been removed to the Park in 1883. It was constructed for William Penn, in advance of his arrival, and stood in the midst of pleasant grounds, sloping towards the broad and placid river, where the worthy founder of the city enjoyed his brief hours of leisure

after the serene Quaker manner. Much of the old house still remains in its original quaintness, although the exigencies of a tavern, which long occupied it, have caused many changes to be made in its physiognomy. The Old London Coffee-house, in

Market Street (also demolished in 1883), dated from 1702, and was a famous resort for the burghers and the provincial officers during the later colonial days. On the open space in front, negro slaves were bought and sold, when human servitude was held as lawful in America.

The old meeting-house of the Friends, in Lower Arch Street, surrounded by many