walk. Even the filth and wondrous blackness of the place are
picturesque when looked down upon from above. The tops of the
churches are visible, and some of the larger buildings may be
partially traced through the thick, brown, settled smoke. But the
city itself is buried in a dense cloud. The atmosphere was
especially heavy when I was there, and the effect was probably
increased by the general darkness of the weather. The Monongahela
is crossed by a fine bridge, and on the other side the ground rises
at once, almost with the rapidity of a precipice; so that a
commanding view is obtained down upon the town and the two rivers
and the different bridges, from a height immediately above them. I
was never more in love with smoke and dirt than when I stood here
and watched the darkness of night close in upon the floating soot
which hovered over the house-tops of the city. I cannot say that I
saw the sun set, for there was no sun. I should say that the sun
never shone at Pittsburg, as foreigners who visit London in November
declare that the sun never shines there.

Walking along the river side I counted thirty-two steamers, all
beached upon the shore, with their bows toward the land--large
boats, capable probably of carrying from one to two hundred
passengers each, and about three hundred tons of merchandise. On
inquiry I found that many of these were not now at work. They were
resting idle, the trade down the Mississippi below St. Louis having
been cut off by the war. Many of them, however, were still running,
the passage down the river being open to Wheeling in Virginia, to
Portsmouth, Cincinnati, and the whole of South Ohio, to Louisville
in Kentucky, and to Cairo in Illinois, where the Ohio joins the
Mississippi. The amount of traffic carried on by these boats while
the country was at peace within itself was very great, and