Threats and blows toward those not deemed capable of resistance were freely expended. Operations of war, as against an organized and skilful enemy, were ignored. But the legacies of English law and the inheritance of English liberty had vested in the Colonies. Their eradication and their withdrawal were alike impossible. The time had passed for compromise or limitation of their enjoyment. The filial relation toward England was lost when it became that of a slave toward master, to be asserted by force. This the Americans understood when they environed Boston. This the British did not understand, until after the battle of Bunker Hill. The British worked as against a mob of rebels. The Americans made common cause, "liberty or death," against usurpation and tyranny.

THE OUTLOOK.

Reference to map, "Boston and vicinity," already used in the January number of this Magazine to illustrate the siege of Boston, will give a clear impression of the local surroundings, at the time of the American occupation of Charlestown Heights. The value of that position was to be tested. The Americans had previously burned the lighthouses of the harbor. The islands of the bay were already miniature fields of conflict; and every effort of the garrison to use boats, and thereby secure the needed supplies of beef, flour, or fuel, only developed a counter system of boat operations, which neutralized the former and gradually limited the garrison to the range of its guns. This close grasp of the land approaches to Boston, so persistently maintained, stimulated the Americans to catch a tighter hold, and force the garrison to escape by sea. The capture of that garrison would have placed unwieldy prisoners in their hands and have made outside operations impossible, as well as any practical disposition of the prisoners themselves, in treatment with Great Britain. Expulsion was the purpose of the rallying people.

General Gage fortified Boston Neck as early as 1774, and the First Continental Congress had promptly assured Massachusetts of its sympathy with her solemn protest against that act. It was also the intention of General Gage to fortify Dorchester Heights. Early in April, a British council of war, in which Clinton, Burgoyne, and Percy took part, unanimously advised the immediate occupation of Dorchester, as both indispensable to the protection of the shipping, and as assurance of access to the country for indispensable supplies.

General Howe already appreciated the mistake of General Gage, in his expedition to Concord, but still cherished such hope of an accommodation of the issue with the Colonies that he postponed action until a peaceable occupation of Dorchester Heights became impossible, and the growing earthworks of the besiegers already commanded Boston Neck.

General Gage had also advised, and wisely, the occupation of Charlestown Heights, as both necessary and feasible, without risk to Boston itself. He went so far as to announce that, in case of overt acts of hostility to such occupation, by the citizens of Charlestown, he would burn the town.

It was clearly sound military policy for the British to occupy both Dorchester and Charlestown Heights, at the first attempt of the Americans to invest the city.

As early as the middle of May, the Massachusetts Committee of Safety, as well as the council, had resolved "to occupy Bunker Hill as soon as artillery and powder could be adequately furnished for the purpose," and a committee was appointed to examine and report respecting the merits of Dorchester Heights, as a strategic restraint upon the garrison of Boston.

On the fifteenth of June, upon reliable information that the British had definitely resolved to seize both Heights, and had designated the eighteenth of June for the occupation of Charlestown, the same Committee of Safety voted "to take immediate possession of Bunker Bill."

Mr. Bancroft states that "the decision was so sudden that no fit preparation could be made," Under the existing conditions, it was indeed a desperate daring, expressive of grand faith and self-devotion, worthy of the cause in peril, and only limited in its immediate and assured triumph by the simple lack of powder.

Prescott, who was eager to lead the enterprise and was entrusted with its execution, and Putman, who gave it his most ardent support, were most urgent that the council should act promptly; while Warren, who long hesitated to concur, did at last concur, and gave his life as the test of his devotion. General Ward realized fully that the hesitation of the British to emerge from Boston and attack the Americans was an index of the security of the American defences, and, therefore, deprecated the contingency of a general engagement, until ample supplies of powder could be secured.

The British garrison, which had been reinforced to a nominal strength of ten thousand men, had become reduced, through inadequate supplies, especially of fresh meat, to eight thousand effectives, but these men were well officered and well disciplined.

THE POSITION.

Bunker Hill had an easy slope to the isthmus, but was quite steep on either side, having, in fact, control of the isthmus, as well as commanding a full view of Boston and the surrounding country. Morton's Hill, at Moulton's Point, where the British landed, was but thirty-five feet above sea level, while Breed's Pasture (as then known) and Bunker Hill were, respectively, seventy-five and one hundred and ten feet high. The Charles and Mystic Rivers, which flanked Charlestown, were navigable, and were under the control of the British ships-of-war.

AMERICAN POLICY.

To so occupy Charlestown, in advance, as to prevent a successful British landing, required the use of the nearest available position that would make the light artillery of the Americans effective. To occupy Bunker Hill, alone, would leave to the British the cover of Breed's Hill, under which to gain effective fire and a good base for approach, as well as Charlestown for quarters, without prejudice to themselves.

When, therefore, Breed's Hill was fortified as an advanced position, it was done with the assurance that reinforcements would soon occupy the retired summit, and the course adopted was the best to prevent an effective British lodgment. The previous reluctance of the garrison to make any effective demonstration against the thin lines of environment strengthened the belief of the Americans that a well-selected hold upon Charlestown Heights would securely tighten the grasp upon the city itself.

BRITISH POLICY.

As a fact, the British contempt for the Americans might have urged them as rashly against Bunker Hill as it did against the redoubt which they gained, at last, only through failure of the ammunition of its defenders; but, in view of the few hours at disposal of the Americans to prepare against a landing so soon to be attempted, it is certain that the defences were well placed, both to cover the town and force an immediate issue before the British could increase their own force.

It is equally certain that the British utterly failed to appreciate the fact that, with the control of the Mystic and Charles Rivers, they could, within twenty-four hours, so isolate Charlestown as to secure the same results as by storming the American position, and without appreciable loss. This was the advice of General Clinton, but he was overruled. They did, ultimately, thereby check reinforcements, but suffered so severely in the battle itself that fully two thirds of the Americans retired safely to the main land.

The delay of the British to advance as soon as the landing was effected was bad tactics. One half of the force could have followed the Mystic and turned the American left wing, long before Colonel Stark's command came upon the field. The British dined as leisurely as if they had only to move any time and seize the threatening position, and thereby lost their chief opportunity.

One single sign of the recognition of any possible risk-to themselves was the opening of fire from Boston Neck and such other positions as faced the American lines, as if to warn them not to attempt the city, or endanger their own lives by sending reinforcements to Charlestown.

THE MOVEMENT.

It is not the purpose of this article to elaborate the details of preparation, which have been so fully discussed by many writers, but to illustrate the value of the action in the light of the relations and conduct of the opposing forces.

Colonel William Prescott, of Pepperell, Massachusetts, Colonel James Frye, of Andover, and Colonel Ebenezer Bridge, of Billerica, whose regiments formed most of the original detail, were members of the council of war which had been organized on the twentieth of April, when General Ward assumed command of the army. Colonel Thomas Knowlton, of Putnam's regiment, was to lead a detachment from the Connecticut troops. Colonel Richard Gridley, chief engineer, with a company of artillery, was also assigned to the moving columns.

To ensure a force of one thousand men, the field order covered nearly fourteen hundred, and Mr. Frothingham shows clearly that the actual force as organized, with artificers and drivers of carts, was not less than twelve hundred men.

Cambridge Common was the place of rendezvous, where, at early twilight of June 16, the Reverend Samuel Langdon, president of Harvard College, invoked the blessing of Almighty God upon the solemn undertaking.

This silent body of earnest men crossed Charlestown Neck, and halted for a clear definition of the impending duty. Major Brooks, of Colonel Dodge's regiment, joined here, as well as a company of artillery. Captain Nutting, with a detachment of Connecticut men, was promptly sent, by the quickest route, to patrol Charlestown, at the summit of Bunker Hill. Captain Maxwell's company, of Prescott's regiment, was next detailed to patrol the shore in silence and keenly note any activity on board the British men-of-war.

The six vessels lying in the stream were the Somerset, sixty-eight, Captain Edward Le Cross; Cerberus, thirty-six, Captain Chads; Glasgow, thirty-four, Captain William Maltby; Lively, twenty, Captain Thomas Bishop; Falcon, twenty, Captain Linzee, and the Symmetry, transport, with eighteen guns.

While one thousand men worked upon the redoubt which had been located under counsel of Gridley, Prescott, Knowlton, and other officers, the dull thud of the pickaxe and the grating of shovels were the only sounds that disturbed the pervading silence, except as the sentries' "All's well!" from Copp's Hill and from the warships, relieved anxiety and stimulated work. Prescott and Putnam alike, and more than once, visited the beach, to be assured that the seeming security was real; and at daybreak the redoubt, nearly eight rods square and six feet high, was nearly complete.

Scarcely had objects become distinct, when the battery on Copp's Hill and the guns of the Lively opened fire, and startled the garrison of Boston from sleep, to a certainty that the Colonists had taken the offensive.

General Putnam reached headquarters at a very early hour, and secured the detail of a portion of Colonel Stark's regiment, to reinforce the first detail which had already occupied the Hill.

At nine o'clock, a council of war was held at Breed's Hill. Major John Brooks was sent to ask for more men and more rations. Richard Devens, of the Committee of Safety, then in session, was influential in persuading General Ward to furnish prompt reinforcements. By eleven o'clock, the whole of Stark's and Reed's New Hampshire regiments were on their march, and in time to meet the first shock of battle. Portions of other regiments hastened to the aid of those already waiting for the fight to begin.

The details of men were not exactly defined, in all cases, when the urgent call for reinforcements reached headquarters. Little's regiment of Essex men; Brewer's, of Worcester and Middlesex, with their Lieutenant-Colonel Buckminster; Nixon's, led by Nixon himself; Moore's, from Worcester; Whitcomb's, of Lancaster, and others, promptly accepted the opportunity to take part in the offensive, and challenge the British garrison to a contest-at-arms, and well they bore their part in the struggle.

THE AMERICAN POSITION.

The completion of the redoubt only made more distinct the necessity for additional defences. A line of breastworks, a few rods in length, was carried to the left, and then to the rear, in order to connect with a stone fence which was accepted as a part of the line, since the fence ran perpendicularly to the Mystic; and the intention was to throw some protection across the entire peninsula to the river. A small pond and some spongy ground were left open, as non-essential, considering the value of every moment; and every exertion was made for the protection of the immediate front. The stone fence, like those still common in New England, was two or three feet high, with set posts and two rails; in all, about five feet high, the top rail giving a rest for a rifle. A zigzag "stake and rider fence" was put in front, the meadow division-fences being stripped for the purpose. The fresh-mown hay filled the interval between the fences. This line was nearly two hundred yards in rear of the face of the redoubt, and near the foot of Bunker Hill. Captain Knowlton, with two pieces of artillery and Connecticut troops, was assigned, by Colonel Prescott, to the right of this position, adjoining the open gap already mentioned. Between the fence and the river, more conspicuous at low tide, was a long gap, which was promptly filled by Stark as soon as he reached the ground, thus, as far as possible, to anticipate the very flanking movement which the British afterward attempted.

Putnam was everywhere active, and, after the fences were as well secured as time would allow, he ordered the tools taken to Bunker Hill for the establishment of a second line on higher ground, in case the first could not be maintained. His importunity with General Ward had secured the detail of the whole of Reed's, as well as the balance of Stark's, regiment, so that the entire left was protected by New Hampshire troops. With all their energy they were able to gather from the shore only stone enough for partial cover, while they lay down, or kneeled, to fire.

The whole force thus spread out to meet the British army was less than sixteen hundred men. Six pieces of artillery were in use at different times, but with little effect. The cannon cartridges were at last distributed for the rifles, and five of the guns were left on the field when retreat became inevitable.

Reference to the map will indicate the position thus outlined. It was evident that the landing could not be prevented. Successive barges landed the well-equipped troops, and they took their positions, and their dinner, under the blaze of the hot sun, as if nothing but ordinary duty was awaiting their leisure.

THE BRITISH ADVANCE.

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when the British army formed for the advance. General Howe was expected to break and envelop the American left wing, take the redoubt in the rear, and cut off retreat to Bunker Hill and the mainland. The light infantry moved closely along the Mystic. The grenadiers advanced upon the stone fence, while the British left demonstrated toward the unprotected gap which was between the fence and the short breastwork next the redoubt. General Pigot with the extreme left wing moved directly upon the redoubt. The British artillery had been supplied with twelve-pound shot for six-pounder guns, and, thus disabled, were ordered to use only grape. The guns were, therefore, advanced to the edge of an old brick-kiln, as the spongy ground and heavy grass did not permit ready handling of guns at the foot of the hill slope, or even just at its left. This secured a more effective range of fire upon the skeleton defences of the American centre, and an eligible position for a direct fire upon the exposed portion of the American front, and both breastwork and redoubt.

The advance of the British army was like a solemn pageant in its steady headway, and like a parade for inspection in its completeness. This army, bearing knapsacks and full campaign equipment, moved forward as if, by the force of its closely knit columns, it must sweep every barrier away. But, right in the way was a calm, intense love of liberty. It was represented by men of the same blood and of equal daring.

A strong contrast marked the opposing Englishmen that summer afternoon. The plain men handled plain firelocks. Oxhorns held their powder, and their pockets held their bullets. Coatless, under the broiling sun, unincumbered, unadorned by plume or service medal, pale and wan after their night of toil and their day of hunger, thirst, and waiting, this live obstruction calmly faced the advancing splendor.

A few hasty shots, quickly restrained, drew an innocent fire from the British front rank. The pale, stern men behind the slight defence, obedient to a strong will, answer not to the quick volley, and nothing to the audible commands of the advancing columns,—waiting, still.

No painter can make the scene more clear than the recital of sober deposition, and the record left by survivors of either side. History has no contradictions to confuse the realities of that momentous tragedy.

The British left wing is near the redoubt. It has only to mount a fresh earthbank, hardly six feet high, and its clods and sands can almost be counted,—it is so near, so easy—sure.

Short, crisp, and earnest, low-toned, but felt as an electric pulse, are the words of Prescott. Warren, by his side, repeats. The words fly through the impatient lines. The eager fingers give back from the waiting trigger. "Steady, men." "Wait until you see the white of the eye." "Not a shot sooner." "Aim at the handsome coats." "Aim at the waistbands." "Pick off the commanders." "Wait for the word, every man,—steady."

Those plain men, so patient, can already count the buttons, can read the emblems on the breastplate, can recognize the officers and men whom they had seen parade on Boston Common. Features grow more distinct. The silence is awful. The men seem dead—waiting for one word. On the British right the light infantry gain equal advance just as the left wing almost touched the redoubt. Moving over more level ground, they quickly made the greater distance, and passed the line of those who marched directly up the hill. The grenadiers moved firmly upon the centre, with equal confidence, and space lessens to that which the spirit of the impending word defines. That word waits behind the centre and left wing, as it lingers at breastwork and redoubt. Sharp, clear, and deadly in tone and essence, it rings forth,—Fire!

THE REPULSE.

From redoubt to river, along the whole sweep of devouring flame, the forms of men wither as in a furnace heat. The whole front goes down. For an instant the chirp of the cricket and grasshopper in the fresh-mown hay might almost be heard; then the groans of the wounded, then the shouts of impatient yeomen who spring forth to pursue, until recalled to silence and duty. Staggering, but reviving, grand in the glory of their manhood, heroic in restored self-possession, with steady step in the face of fire, and over the bodies of the dead, the British remnant renew battle. Again, a deadly volley, and the shattered columns, in spite of entreaty or command, speed back to the place of landing, and the first shock of arms is over.

A lifetime, when it is past, is but as a moment. A moment, sometimes, is as a lifetime. Onset and repulse. Three hundred lifetimes ended in twenty minutes.

Putnam hastened to Bunker Hill to gather scattering parties in the rear and urge coming reinforcements across the isthmus, where the fire from British frigates swept with fearful energy, but nothing could bring them in time. The men who had toiled all night, and had just proved their valor, were again to be tested.

The British reformed promptly, in the perfection of their discipline. Their artillery was pushed forward nearer the angle made by the breastwork next the redoubt, and the whole line advanced, deployed as before, across the entire American front. The ships-of-war increased their fire across the isthmus. Charlestown had been fired, and more than four hundred houses kindled into one vast wave of smoke and flame, until a sudden breeze swept its quivering volume away and exposed to view of the watchful Americans the returning tide of battle. No scattering shots in advance this time. It is only when a space of hardly five rods is left, and a swift plunge could almost forerun the rifle flash, that the word of execution impels the bullet, and the entire front rank, from redoubt to river, is swept away. Again, and again, the attempt is made to rally and inspire the paralyzed troops; but the living tide flows back, even to the river.

Another twenty minutes,—hardly twenty-five,—and the death angel has gathered his sheaves of human hopes, as when the Royal George went down beneath the waters with its priceless value of human lives.

At the first repulse the thirty-eighth regiment took shelter by a stone fence, along the road which passes about the base of Breed's Hill; but at the second repulse, supported by the fifth, it reorganized, just under the advanced crest of Breed's Hill for a third advance.

It was an hour of grave issues. Burgoyne, who watched the progress from Copp's Hill, says: "A moment of the day was critical."

Stedman says: "A continuous blaze of musketry, incessant and destructive."

Gordon says: "The British officers pronounced it downright butchery to lead the men afresh against those lines."

Ramsay says: "Of one company not more than five, and of another not more than fourteen, escaped."

Lossing says: "Whole platoons were lain upon the earth, like grass by the mower's scythe."

Marshall says: "The British line, wholly broken, fell back with precipitation to the landing-place."

Frothingham quotes this statement of a British officer: "Most of our grenadiers and light infantry, the moment they presented themselves, lost three fourths, and many nine tenths, of their men. Some had only eight and nine men to a company left, some only three, four, and five."

Botta says: "A shower of bullets. The field was covered with the slain."

Bancroft says: "A continuous sheet of fire."

Stark says: "The dead lay as thick as sheep in a fold."

It was, indeed, a strange episode in British history, in view of the British assertion of assured supremacy, whenever an issue challenged that supremacy.

Clinton and Burgoyne, watching from the redoubt on Copp's Hill, realized at once the gravity of the situation, and Clinton promptly offered his aid to rescue the army.

Four hundred additional marines and the forty-seventh regiment were promptly landed. This fresh force, under Clinton, was ordered to flank the redoubt and scale its face to the extreme left. General Howe, with the grenadiers and light infantry, supported by the artillery, undertook the storming of the breastworks, bending back from the mouth of the redoubt, and so commanding the centre entrance.

General Pigot was ordered to rally the remnants of the fifth, thirty-eighth, forty-third, and fifty-second regiments, to connect the two wings, and attack the redoubt in front.

A mere demonstration was ordered upon the American left, while the artillery was to advance a few rods and then swing to its left, so as to sweep the breastwork for Howe's advance.

THE ASSAULT.

The dress parade movement of the first advance was not repeated. A contest between equals was at hand. Victory or ruin was the alternative for those who so proudly issued from the Boston barracks at sunrise for the suppression of pretentious rebellion. Knapsacks were thrown aside. British veterans stripped for fight. Not a single regiment of those engaged had passed such a fearful ordeal in its whole history as a single hour had witnessed. The power of discipline, the energy of experienced commanders, and the pressure of honored antecedents, combined to make the movement as trying as it was momentous.

The Americans were no less under a solemn responsibility. At the previous attack, some loaded while others fired, so that the expenditure of powder was great, almost exhaustive. The few remaining cannon cartridges were economically distributed. There was no longer a possibility of reinforcements. The fire from the shipping swept the isthmus. There were less than fifty bayonets to the entire command.

During the afternoon Ward sent his own regiment, as well as Patterson's and Gardner's, but few men reached the actual front in time to share in the last resistance. Gardner did, indeed, reach Bunker Hill to aid Putnam in establishing a second line on that summit, but fell in the discharge of the duty. Febiger, previously conspicuous at Quebec, and afterward at Stony Point, gathered a portion of Gerrishe's regiment, and reached the redoubt in time to share in the final struggle; but the other regiments, without their fault, were too late.

At this time, Putnam seemed to appreciate the full gravity of the crisis, and made the most of every available resource to concentrate a reserve for a second defence, but in vain.

Prescott, within the redoubt, at once recognized the method of the British advance. The wheel of the British artillery to the left after it passed the line of the redoubt, secured to it an enfilading fire, which insured the reduction of the redoubt and cut off retreat. There was no panic at that hour of supreme peril. The order to reserve fire until the enemy was within twenty yards was obediently regarded, and it was not until a pressure upon three faces of the redoubt forced the last issue, that the defenders poured forth one more destructive volley. A single cannon cartridge was distributed for the final effort, and then, with clubbed guns and the nerve of desperation, the slow retreat began, contesting, man to man and inch by inch. Warren fell, shot through the head, in the mouth of the fort.

The battle was not quite over, even then. Jackson rallied Gardner's men on Bunker Hill, and with three companies of Ward's regiment and Febiger's party, so covered the retreat as to save half of the garrison. The New Hampshire troops of Stark and Reed, with Colt's and Chester's companies, still held the fence line clear to the river, and covered the escape of Prescott's command until the last cartridge had been expended, and then their deliberate, well-ordered retreat bore testimony alike to their virtue and valor.

THE END.

Putnam made one final effort at Bunker Hill, but in vain, and the army retired to Prospect Hill, which Putnam had already fortified in advance.

The British did not pursue, Clinton urged upon General Howe an immediate attack upon Cambridge; but Howe declined the movement. The gallant Prescott offered to retake Bunker Hill by storming if he could have three fresh regiments; but it was not deemed best to waste further resources at the time.

Such, as briefly as it can be clearly outlined, was the battle of Bunker Hill.

Nearly one third of each army was left on the field.

The British loss was nineteen officers killed and seventy wounded, itself a striking evidence of the prompt response to Prescott's orders before the action began. Of rank and file, two hundred and seven were killed and seven hundred and fifty-eight were wounded. Total, ten hundred and fifty-four.

The American loss was one hundred and forty-five killed and missing, and three hundred and four wounded. Total, four hundred and forty-nine.

Such is the record of a battle which, in less than two hours, destroyed a town, laid fifteen hundred men upon the field, equalized the relations of veterans and militia, aroused three millions of people to a definite struggle for National Independence, and fairly opened the war for its accomplishment.

NOTES.

NOTE 1. The hasty organization of the command is marked by one feature not often regarded, and that is the readiness with which men of various regiments enlisted in the enterprise. Washington, in his official report of the casualties, thus specifies the loss:—

Colonel of Regiment. Killed. Wounded. Missing.

Frye, 10 38 4 Little, 7 23 - Brewer, 12 22 - Gridley, - 4 - Stark, 15 45 - Woodbridge, - 5 - Scammon, - 2 - Bridge, 17 25 - Whitcomb, 5 8 2 Ward, 1 6 - Gerrishe, 3 5 - Reed, 3 29 1 Prescott, 43 46 - Doolittle, 6 9 - Gardner, - 7 - Patterson, - 1 1 Nixon, 3 - -

NOTE 2. The record, brief as it is, shows that hot controversies as to the question of precedence in command are beneath the merits of the struggle, because all worked just where the swift transitions of the crisis best commanded presence and influence.

NOTE 3. As both the Morton and Moulton families had property near the British landing-place, it is immaterial whether hill or point bear the name of one or the other. Hence the author of this sketch, in a memorial examination of this battle, elsewhere, deemed it but just to recognize both, without attempt to harmonize differences upon an immaterial matter.

NOTE 4. The occupation of Lechmere Point, Cobble Hill, Ploughed Hill, and Prospect Hill, as shown upon the map of Boston and vicinity, rendered the British occupation of Bunker Hill a barren victory, silenced the activity of a thousand men, vindicated the wisdom of the American occupation, however transient, rescued Boston, and projected the spirit of the battle of Bunker Hill into all the issues which culminated at Yorktown, October 19, 1781.

* * * * *

THE YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS OF MASSACHUSETTS.

BY RUSSELL STURGIS, JR.

In the sketch of the Boston Association, which appeared in the April number of this Magazine, mention was made of the work of Mr. L.P. Rowland, corresponding member of Massachusetts of the international committee, in establishing kindred associations throughout the State, This article is to give a brief history of the spread and work of these associations, and I am largely indebted to Mr. Sayford, late state secretary, for the data. It was natural that as soon as it was known that an organization had been formed in Boston to do distinctive work for young men, that in other places where the need was realized the desire for a like work should spring up; but, in the absence of organized effort to promote this, very little was done, and in 1856, five years after the parent association was formed, there were only six in all, that is, in Boston, Charlestown, Worcester, Lowell, Springfield, and Haverhill.

In December, 1866, the Boston Association called a convention, when twelve hundred delegates met and sat for two days at the Tremont Temple. General Christian work was discussed, but the distinctive work for young men was earnestly advocated.

When Mr. Rowland undertook the work, as an officer of the international committee, it spread rapidly, and in 1868 there were one hundred and two, and in 1869, one hundred and nine, associations in Massachusetts. This number was, later, somewhat further increased.

Up to 1867 there had been no conference of the state associations, but at the international convention, at Montreal, in that year, it was strongly urged upon the corresponding members of the various States and provinces that they should call state conventions, and thus the first Massachusetts convention of Young Men's Christian Associations was held at Springfield, October 10 and 11. The Honorable Whiting Griswold, of Greenfield, was president, and among the prominent men present were Henry F. Durant and ex-Vice-President Wilson. In 1868, the convention met at Worcester; in 1869, at Lowell. At this time there were fifty associations reporting reading-rooms, and thirty were holding open-air meetings, which means, that, since there are many persons who never enter a building to hear the gospel, it should be taken to them. Since these services are almost peculiarly a characteristic of association work, let me describe them. One or two men, clergymen or laymen, are appointed to take charge of the meeting, while from six to ten men go with them to lead the singing. Having reached the common or public square where men and women are lounging about, the group start a familiar hymn and sing, perhaps, two or three, by which time many have drawn near and most are listening; then mounting a bench or packing-box, the leader says he proposes to pray to the God of whom they have been singing, and asks them to join with him; then with uncovered head he speaks to God and asks him to bless the words that shall be spoken. Another hymn, and then some Bible scene or striking incident is read and commented upon, and when interest is fairly roused the gospel is preached in its simplicity and a direct appeal made to the people. There is a wonderful fascination in this service—a naturalness in all the surroundings, so like the circumstances of our Lord's discourses, that makes God's nearness felt, and inspires great faith for results. Great have been these results—how great we shall know by-and-by. Many a soul has thus been born by the sea, in the grove, on the village green, at the place where streets meet in the busy city. How can we reach the masses? is the earnest question of the church. Go to them! To the association is due the fact that thousands of laymen are to-day proclaiming the gospel in all parts of the world, successful through their simple study of the Word and the encouragement and training which they have received in this school.

The fourth convention was held in Chelsea, in 1870, on which occasion the Honorable Cephas Brainard, chairman of the international executive committee, said: "To promote the permanency of associations, our labor must be chiefly for young men; increasing as rapidly as possible edifices of our own; and cultivating frequent fraternal intercourse with the eight hundred associations in the land." Up to 1881 no agents had been appointed by the state convention to superintend its work. Mr. Rowland was taking time, given him for rest, to visit associations and towns needing them.

At the international convention, in 1868, at Detroit, two Massachusetts men met, who were to be largely instrumental in carrying on the work in the State so dear to them; and in 1871, in far-off Illinois, these two men—K.A. Burnell, and he who has almost without a break served on the Massachusetts committee to this day—met again, prayed for Massachusetts, consulted together, and the result was that at the convention of 1871, at Northampton, a state executive committee was appointed.

At this time calls from many parts of the State were coming to the association workers from pastors of churches for lay help and they felt that these calls must be met. Mr. Burnell was engaged to conduct the work, and with the help of the committee individually, meetings of two and three days were held in from forty to sixty towns each year for three years. This work was continued by paid secretaries, still largely aided by the committee, till 1879.

During this time but little was done to strengthen existing associations, and nothing in establishing new ones, therefore, while the influence of the convention of associations was greatly felt throughout the State, the associations themselves suffered. Very many were doing nothing, and many had ceased to exist.

We should not dare to say that the associations did wrong in thus giving themselves to the evangelistic work, while the calls for it were greater than the committee could meet. This work engrossed them till the calls began to slacken, and then they awoke to the fact that they were neglecting their true work, a special instrumentality in which they believed and for which they existed—that is, "A work for young men by young men through physical, social, mental, and spiritual appliances."

This led to a series of resolutions at the Lowell convention, in 1879, directing the committee to confine their efforts to the strengthening and organizing of associations, and to appoint a secretary to give his whole time to the work.

Mr. Sayford was called from New York, appointed general secretary, and began to work in January, 1880.

At this time there were thirty-five associations in the State, only four of which had general secretaries, paid men who gave all their time to the work.

In October, the number of secretaries had more than doubled, nine being at work. The total membership at this time was, in round numbers, six thousand, with property amounting to about two hundred and ten thousand dollars.

The thirty-three associations which reported at this time at the Lynn convention represented somewhat more than five hundred active working men, and they conducted one hundred and ten religious meetings a week.

In 1881, the only addition of note was the beginning of the railway work in the State, when a general secretary was employed, and rooms opened at Springfield by the Boston and Albany Railroad Company. This important work, carried on most vigorously at various railway centres in other States, had for some time been pressed upon the state committee, but they had been unable to obtain any footing till now. At the convention of this year, at Spencer, the advantage of association work in colleges was brought out in an able paper by our present state secretary, then a representative of Williams College.

At this convention the committee on executive committee's report said: "It is evident from the reports of executive committee and state secretary, that, while the process of the last two years has decreased the number of the associations in the State, it has greatly increased their efficiency. Some associations were found to have been long since privately buried, though the name was allowed to remain upon the door. These have been removed. Others had been left to die uncared for in the field. These have been decently buried. Some were found so sick as to be past hope, and their last days were made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Others were found to be more or less seriously ill, and have been skilfully treated. The result is that at least twenty-four associations are well, and could do much more work if they chose; while ten, in robust condition, and under the management and inspiration of skilled general secretaries, are doing grand work for young men in their several localities."

The reduction here spoken of is from one hundred and nine associations in 1869 to thirty-four in 1881; yet the work was being better done by the smaller number, and it is thus accounted for: Few dreamed to what this work would grow, therefore their aim was extremely vague, and the methods were inadequate. Seeing the need,—deeply interested in the salvation of young men,—the idea of the association took everywhere. They sprang up all over the State. Organization followed organization in rapid succession, and then they waited to be told what to do, or flung themselves into the first seeming opening with no thought whether it was the work for which they were formed; and we remember of hearing of one Young Men's Christian Association whose whole energies were concentrated upon a mission Sunday-school in a deserted district,—a good work, but not a proper Young Men's Christian Association's work, when it represented all that was being done.

Two things, however, were accomplished, even in those early days, for which we must always be very grateful, and in themselves are a sufficient raison d'etre. Young men were trained to work, and the reflex influence upon their minds was very great, and the real unity of the church of Christ was manifested as never before. The Young Men's Christian Association in town and village formed the natural rallying-point for all united work. A third great blessing should be mentioned. Not only has the unity of Christ's church been manifested, but also its distinctive standing upon the great Bible doctrines of the cross, which vitally separate it from all other religious bodies.

Gradually the greatness of this work for young men has been appreciated, as the strong opposing forces have been met. The association is intended to influence those who are in the energy and full flush of young manhood, when the desires are strong, most responsive, and least guarded. The social instinct then is very strong. It is natural, and must be met in some form. Sinful allurements of every kind invite the young man, hurtful companionship welcomes him, the ordinary appliances of the church have no attraction for him. The association must see to it that his social craving is met by that which is interesting enough to attract him, and yet is safe. To counteract baleful attractions, others which call forth strong sympathy, and appliances which cost, in every sense of the word, must be furnished.

This means pleasant rooms, books, papers, good companionship, classes, lectures, concerts, the hall, and the gymnasium; but more important than all, a trained man who shall give his whole time and heart to the work, and be amply remunerated.

Since these things are more or less necessary to successful effort for young men, it will readily be seen why so many associations have ceased to exist.

The committee have come to the conclusion that every town in the State where rooms can be kept open in charge of a general secretary should have a Young Men's Christian Association, and where these cannot be furnished we are not anxious to establish it.

At the convention of 1882, in Charlestown, it became apparent that, to meet the calls for evangelistic work and push the distinctive association work, two men were required. Two, therefore, were appointed: one to give his time largely to evangelistic work, the other wholly to that of the association. In the following year, 1883, the evangelistic secretary decided to do the same work independently of the committee, and the whole energy of the state secretary has been devoted to the organization of association work.

We may safely say that, although numerically small, never before has this work been so efficiently organized as now, and never has there been so much done as now for young men. At the convention of 1881, a constitution was adopted which binds the different state associations in organic union. These hold an annual convention of three days, at which time one half of the executive committee is chosen, thus making it a perpetual body. This committee represents every section of the State, and meets monthly for consultation; while the individual members are means of communication between headquarters in Boston and other respective sections. There is a further subdivision into three districts, each of which holds a quarterly conference of one day, under the management of the district committee.

The associations now number 35. Membership, about 11,300. Employing general secretaries, 19. Having buildings, 7. Value of buildings, say, $490,000. Value of building funds and lots, $50,000. Having rooms, 23. Having gymnasiums, 8. Annual expenses, about $65,000.

This is only a beginning. This work for young men is far too important to remain within such limits. Every town in the Commonwealth of seven thousand inhabitants should have a fully equipped association. Some smaller towns already have.

My excuse for this sketch is: first, the importance of the subject; second, the ignorance concerning it of a large portion of the Christian community; third, that the blessings of the work and its support may be shared by far greater numbers; and, lastly, that the courtesy of the editors of The Bay State Monthly afforded altogether too good an opportunity for making this work known, to be lost.

* * * * *

TOWN AND CITY HISTORIES.

BY ROBERT LUCE.

The United States government has now in press two volumes of the census of 1880, entitled The Social Statistics of Cities. These statistics have been in process of preparation for some four years, under direction of Colonel George E. Waring, jr., the eminent sanitary engineer, of Newport, Rhode Island. They will fill two large quarto volumes of something over six hundred pages each; and as each page will average over one thousand words, it will be seen that the work will, at least, be massive and imposing, like most government publications. Unlike many of these, however, it will not be dull, unintelligible, or valueless. The fact that one half of it is devoted to the history of the cities of our land is well-nigh sufficient proof that these epithets cannot be applied to it, and the question is settled beyond a doubt when it is learned that the greater part of the labor has been performed by people who are well known in the literary world, and who brought to their task experience and ability,—rare qualifications to be found combined in government employees. Colonel Waring himself, though a clear thinker and good writer, furnished comparatively little manuscript to the volumes, but he has revised them thoroughly, and has stamped them with his individuality.

It was Colonel Waring's original design to embrace in his work the statistics of the twenty largest cities of the country, and these happened to be the cities that in 1880 had more than one hundred thousand inhabitants. Then it was decided to allow the smaller cities to be represented if they chose, and early in the work steps were taken to induce them to furnish the necessary material. Over two hundred of the largest were given all the opportunities for representation that could be asked for, and, as a consequence, nearly every community in the land containing more than ten thousand inhabitants has a more or less full account. Each one of these is prefaced by a small outline plan, on which is marked the direction in which the surrounding cities lie, and the distance to each. Accompanying this plan are tables of the population at different decades, and of the sex, color, and nativity of the present population. Then comes an historical sketch, and then an account of the present condition of the community. This last describes the location and topography fully; gives the principal features of the country immediately tributary; details the facilities for communication given by railroads and by water; gives statistics about the climate; describes the public buildings and public works, including water and gas works; gives figures about the streets, horse railroads, and markets; touches upon the places and methods of amusement, and the parks and pleasure-grounds; the sewers, the cemeteries, sanitary organization (boards of health), and the system, or lack of system, of municipal cleansing,—all receive especially full treatment, as would naturally be expected when a sanitary engineer of Colonel Waring's stamp had charge of the work; the police department gets its share of the space; and in some cases the schools, fire department, and commerce are represented. The material from which these accounts were compiled was, in the main, obtained by sending schedules of questions to the various town and city officials; in the case of some of the largest cities the material was secured by special agents, but in general, the desire of the cities to be represented was considered sufficient guaranty that the schedule would be filled out fully and accurately, and this generally proved to be the case.

The historical sketches of the smaller cities and towns were compiled from information obtained in the same way, and from gazetteers, encyclopaedias, town and city histories, and all other sources available at the headquarters of the bureau. To the preparation of the sketches of the twenty largest cities, especial attention was devoted, and the results have been correspondingly valuable. Perhaps the most important, both from the historical and literary point of view, will be the sketch of the history of New Orleans, written by George W. Cable, who is better known as a novelist, but who has no mean abilities as an historian. His familiarity with the Creole element in New Orleans past and present, together with a very happy style of writing, have made for him more than a national reputation, from which this sketch will not detract. Originally his work was intended to occupy some ninety pages of the report, but later, unfortunately, it had to be condensed into fifty. Luckily it will not be found necessary to omit a number of interesting maps that accompany it.

Next in value, perhaps from the purely historical point of view the most valuable, or at least the most complete, of all, comes the sketch of the early history of St. Louis, by Professor Waterhouse. The author became greatly interested in his task, and spent a vast amount of time in collecting materials for it. From the care bestowed on the work, it may be taken for granted that this will be as full and accurate an account of the settlement and early history of the "Philadelphia of the West" as can possibly be compiled. It is expected that it will occupy fifty or sixty pages of the report, and even then it will only bring the history down to 1823, when the first city government was organized.

The largest of the Eastern cities furnish little chance for original work in an historical line, but yet the sketch of New York by Martha J. Lamb, of Philadelphia by Susan Cooledge, and of Boston by Colonel Waring, will be acceptable additions to the very scanty stock of American historical literature.

The words "very scanty" are used most advisedly, for in very truth the American historian is a rara avis. Of American compilers-of-facts, to be sure, there have been and are very many, but an aggregation of details is not a history, nor can a man who makes a book out of local gossip and the biographies of local heroes and heroines be called an historian. The truth of this fact has been most forcibly impressed on the writer in the course of preparing for the Census Bureau historical sketches of many of the leading cities of the country, and he has become thoroughly convinced that of all the vulnerable portions of American literature that which pertains to the history of American towns and cities is the most vulnerable.

In the first place, American town and city histories are few. In the second place, the books that pretend to be such are many, and as a rule historically worthless. In the third place, both the real and the sham are intensely dull.

Real histories are few, evidently because there is not demand enough to encourage historians to enter the field, and not because material is lacking. With the exception of the Atlantic seaboard, our country has been developed in an age pre-eminent for records and statistics; and there is scarcely a town or city in the land that has not its records and its public documents, its newspaper files and its Fourth-of-July orations,—all replete with information waiting for the historian. Nearly every State has its Historical Society, and Pioneer Associations are as plenty in our glorious West as was the fever and ague with which their members were baptized. If the golden opportunities of autobiography are lost, the American historian of the future will have to be satisfied, as must be satisfied the New England historian of to-day, with the meagre, lifeless information given by records, and the hyperbolical, untrustworthy knowledge to be obtained from local tradition and gossip.

We need go no farther to find the first reason why American histories are so meagre and dull. They are not pictures from life. The fact is, that the historian might as well try to write a valuable and interesting history from the materials which our older cities possess, as a painter might try to paint the battle of Crecy from the details given by Froissart. To be sure we have all seen such pictures, but who has more than admired them?

The absence of contemporaneous literature has been the greatest misfortune of all history. Every student knows how great and deplorable are the breaks constantly met with in tracing the thread of past events. Shall we, then, let the students of posterity remain in the dark on such questions as these: why Providence became the second city of New England; why she left Newport so badly in the race for prosperity; why Buffalo and Cincinnati went up, while Black Rock and North Bend went down; why Chicago became the largest manufacturing city on the continent; why New England kept the town-meeting, and the West preferred the township and the county; and why a thousand and one other important things happened. To be sure we have had Bancroft, and Sparks, and Hildreth, but these and their brethren have told us as little about the history of the people as Lingard, Hume, Hallam, and all the rest of them told England. Within a very few years historians have begun to see this defect, and such men as Green, Lodge, and MacMaster have undertaken to give us histories of the people, the first and last taking the lead on their respective sides of the Atlantic. MacMaster's work is excellent as far as it goes. His first volume is deep and scholarly, and does credit to American literature. It is clear that the task of its preparation was immense, and more time must have been spent in merely collecting authorities than has been bestowed altogether on more pretentious histories. Where Mr. MacMaster found all these authorities is a puzzle, for even such libraries as those in Boston and Cambridge have not all the materials for such an undertaking. Yet even he leaves many points untouched, or cursorily disposed of. Among the subjects referred to, of which we would like to learn more, may be mentioned: the township system of the West, the development of American municipal institutions, and, above all, the origin and rise of the various centres of population and business which we call cities.

The history of a nation should be compiled in the same way that the French people of the ancien regime compiled their lists of grievances to be presented to the king. In the early States-generals the deputies of all the orders received from the electors mandates of instructions containing an enumeration of the public grievances of which they were to demand redress. From the multitude of these cahiers (or codices), the three estates, that is, the clergy, the nobility, and the third estate (the people), compiled each a single cahier to serve as the exponent of its grievances and its demands. When this complex process had been completed and the three residual cahiers had been given to the king, the States-general, the only representative body of France, was dissolved.

Thus it should be with our national history. Already the clergy have presented their cahiers in the shape of church histories and theological essays innumerable. The nobles, that is, the statesmen and politicians, have formulated their lists of grievances in such works as Thirty Year's View, The Great Conflict, Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America, etc. But where is the cahier of the third estate? The States-general has met and the tiers etat is not ready. What excuse have they? Quick comes the answer: "Our electors have sent in but few cahiers, and these are defective. We cannot tell our king, the nation, what the people were and what they are, what they have and what they want, until they tell us. Our cahier must wait the pleasure of the people." Meanwhile, the regent, irreverently called Uncle Sam, who rules the land while his master is away in Utopia, reads the cahiers of the nobles, laughs in his sleeve at that of the clergy, and forgets all about that of the third estate. Or if he thinks of it at all, it is only to try to fill its place with twenty-four-volume Census Reports and massive tomes from the other departments.

The cahiers of the third estate are, in truth, few and defective, yet there are some communities that have done their work well. For example, there is The Memorial History of Boston which does credit even to the Hub of American historical literature. It was the work of cultivated men, and although the cooks were many, the broth is excellent. That the people were a-hungering for just such broth is shown by the fact that the net profits from it in the first twelve months after publication, as it is said, were over fifty thousand dollars.

Boston is almost the only city in the land that has been the subject of a full, accurate, and interesting history. The History of New York, by Martha J. Lamb, is not so full as might have been wished, but is otherwise unexceptionable. New York is fortunate in having the most graphic and humorous history of its early days that any city in the world ever had, but nobody except Diedrich Knickerbocker himself ever claimed a great amount of accuracy and truthfulness for his unrivaled work.

It was to be expected that our older cities,—those whose seeds were planted by Puritans, Dutch traders, Catholic fugitives, Quakers, Cavalier spendthrifts and rogues, Huguenot exiles, and in general the motley crowd that sought the land of milk and honey in the seventeenth and early part of the eighteenth centuries,—it was to be expected that these cities would have historians ad nauseam. The very nature of the early colonization of America, the elements of romance and adventure so conspicuous in the history of early days on the Atlantic coast, gave warrant to such expectations, and the event has justified them. But where the romance and adventure end, the historian lays down his pen. It is left to the census enumerator to complete the work, and the brazen age of statistics follows the golden age of history.

As the cities in the heart of the continent have very little of the picturesque in their history, the same line of reasoning would lead us to expect that the historian would carefully avoid them, or else write only of their earliest days, when Dame Fortune was yet coquetting on the boards with Mr. Yankee Adventurer. Again we are not mistaken, for we find that what few critics are present when the curtain is rung up, leave the house when the first act ends with the death of the aforesaid adventurer. How the fickle dame flirts with all the neighboring young men, and at last, at the end of the second act, has her attention led by Captain Location to the hero of the piece as a suitable mate for her wayward daughter, Miss Prosperity,—all this is usually written up from hearsay. For the third act, wherein the twin brothers Steamboat Navigation and Railroad Communication help the hero to press his suit, the imagination often suffices. The grand finale, however, brings back some of the old set of critics, together with a host of new ones, who describe in glowing language the setting of the act, the costumes, the music, etc., and tell minutely how young Miss Prosperity blushingly yet boldly promises to be forever true to the gallant hero, now known under his rightful name of Mr. Metropolis. Ac-cording to the critic, this grand drama always ends happily for all concerned; the acting is always perfect,—the best ever seen on the stage; the scenery has seldom been equaled, never excelled. And this is the way the public hears about every "greatest drama ever produced on any stage."

Do you think the critic too harshly criticized? Look for yourself. Take Cleveland, if you want a good city with which to begin your explorations among the histories of Western cities. Here is one of the loveliest places in all the basin of the Great Lakes—rich, prosperous, beautiful. It was the one city which alt the travelers through the West in the second quarter of this century united in declaring to be attractive. For instance, J.S. Buckingham, who visited America forty-three years ago, complimented Cleveland as follows, in a book called The Eastern and Western States of America: "The buildings of Cleveland are all remarkably clean and neat, many of them in excellent architectural style, and, like the dwellings we saw at Cincinnati and other towns of Ohio, all evincing more taste, love of flowers, and attention to order and adornment than in most of the States of the Union." Mrs. Pulzky, who accompanied Kossuth in his journey through America, in 1852, wrote in her diary: "Cleveland is a neat, clean, and agreeable city, on Lake Erie. Americans call it the 'Forest City,' though the original forests have disappeared. Cleveland has a most lovely aspect; with the exception of the business streets, every house is surrounded by a garden. It was for the first time that I found love of nature in an American population. On the journey, until here, I had always missed pleasure-grounds and trees around the cottages."

The growth of Cleveland was steady and healthy. Although foreigners came to it in large numbers, it has been and is a representative American city. The spirit of public improvement early made itself felt here, as has been intimated by the above quotations; wide avenues, beautiful dwellings, pleasure-grounds, both public and private,—all the attractions that a lavish expenditure of money can secure were bestowed upon it. The oil discoveries of a quarter of a century ago made many of its citizens wealthy, and their city was so pleasant to live in, that, unlike most Western people who have gained sudden wealth, they stayed at home to spend their money.

From the history of the rise of such a community, much might be learned. Yet in the large libraries of the East we find only one book on the subject, and Poole's mammoth Index—that "Open, sesame," of the literary man—refers us to not a single magazine article of any sort on Cleveland. The book referred to is entitled Early History of Cleveland, with Biographical Notices of the Pioneers and Survivors; its author was Colonel Charles Whittlesey. As is the case in almost all such histories, the biographical notices form a very considerable portion of the book, and, as usual, its value is diminished in an exactly equivalent degree; for the biographies of Western pioneers are fully as tedious and valueless as the catalogue of ships in the second book of Homer. And, oh! the garrulity of the biographers, the minuteness of detail, the petty incidents, the host of dates! With these we are inflicted because some adventurous Yankee happened, by sheer luck, to build the first shanty on what became the site of a great city, or chanced there to be a pioneer victim of the "shakes" or the jaundice!

Whittlesey's book contains four hundred and eighty-seven pages. Of these he uses up seventy-six before he gets a civilized man in what became Cuyahoga County, and fifty more before he gets any actual settlers to the mouth of the Cuyahoga River. The history of the next thirteen or fourteen years, down to the War of 1812, fills the mass of the book, details being here given that really have historical value. The last forty pages are devoted to the history of the two or three following decades. Nothing is told us about the actual development of a great city,—the haps and mishaps, the successes and failures, in short, the growth, of the community.

This same Colonel Whittlesey, in a volume entitled Fugitive Essays, published a sketch of the history of Cleveland covering the same ground more concisely, and also giving a few extra details about the history between 1812 and 1840.

These constituted the sum total of works solely devoted to Cleveland which were accessible to a writer in the East. The Ohio Historical Collections, by Henry Howe, a series of sketches of the counties, cities, and towns of the State, added a little to the meagre stock of information. For further knowledge, the public must be thankful that the argus-eyed tourist has not left the place unnoticed, and that the mathematically-inclined gazetteer has told us from time to time the number of Cleveland's churches, banks, and city councilmen, and other equally important facts!

Take another lake city—Buffalo. The growth of this city has been rapid. Its sudden rise to the dignity of a metropolis was largely due to that most interesting of the many important internal improvements of the first half of the century,—the Erie Canal. With the development of Buffalo was identified the rise of lake navigation and the grain elevator. Its population has been increased by the addition of a large foreign element, which has had its due influence on manners, morals, and public life. It appears from the report of the board of health for 1879, that, in 1878, of the children born in Buffalo, nineteen hundred and seventy-five were of German descent; of all other descents, two thousand and fifty-six,—a difference of only eighty-one. The city has indeed been thoroughly Germanized, if we may coin the word.

Here are things of which we would know more. Yet what do we find about them? Save in meagre or verbose pamphlets, nothing. To be sure, there was a book written which claimed to be about Buffalo, but a microscopic examination would fail to find in it anything worth knowing about the history of this community. The author of that book, William Ketchum, had the audacity to name it, as we read on the title-page, "An Authentic and Comprehensive History of Buffalo, with some account of its early inhabitants, both savage and civilized." It was published in Buffalo in 1864, in two octavo volumes, containing respectively four hundred and thirty-two and four hundred and forty-three pages. To comprehend the utter absurdity of the thing, we shall have to glance at history a bit.

It will be remembered that during and for some time after the Revolutionary War the country about the Niagara River remained in the possession of the British. The Seneca Indians, who sided against the Colonies in that war, and who were driven from their homes by the expedition of General Sullivan in 1779, gathered around Fort Niagara and became such a nuisance that the English had to set up anew in housekeeping these faithful allies and disagreeable neighbors. One of the villages they started was at Buffalo Creek. Our historian, Ketchum, has twenty-five chapters in the first volume of his Authentic and Comprehensive History of Buffalo. He gets the Senecas settled at Buffalo Creek in the twenty-fourth!

During the rest of the century the inhabitants of this Indian village on the ground where Buffalo was to stand, consisted of redskins and semi-redskins, a few Indian traders who doled out the firewater, and a settler or two. The present city of Buffalo, according to the encyclopaedia (and for once that mass of condensed wisdom is correct about the date of settlement of a Western city), was founded in 1801, by the Holland Land Company, which opened a land office here in January of that year. The notice of this event may be found in the region of page 146, in vol. ii, of Ketchum's book,—the uniform lack of concise statement, the huge amount of irrevelant matter, and the absence of lucid summaries and intelligent comment, making more exact reference impossible.

The rest of this "comprehensive history" is occupied with the course of events down to December 30, 1813, when the British burnt the town, leaving but two houses standing—a dwelling-house and a blacksmith's shop. Here, having brought his Phoenix to ashes, our comprehensive historian brings his narrative to an abrupt end. This is at page 304. Then follows the "appendix," an invariable feature of city histories, which makes of every one of them a huge anti-climax. In this instance, one hundred and thirty-nine pages of appendix contain, according to the author, "for the purpose of preservation, a mass of papers not absolutely necessary to the elucidation of the history contained in the body of the work. Most of them consist of original papers and letters never before published, and which are now, for the first time, placed in an accessible and permanent form." To compare small things with great, these documents are made just about as "accessible" as are the State papers to which Carlyle devotes so much paper and bile in his book on Oliver Cromwell.

In short, this book contains much valuable information, which is very hard to extract, and when extracted is not germane to the history of the city of Buffalo.

Some information about Buffalo's history was found in a pamphlet on the Manufacturing Interests of the City of Buffalo, published in 1866. In it were historical sketches, covering about twenty-five pages,—verbose, with little meat, written in the flowery style so dear to the heart of the American editor or "Honorable" when extolling the virtues of his constituency. Turner's History of the Holland Purchase, published in 1849, and containing six hundred and sixty-six pages, would have been more useful, had it not been composed for the greater part of the biographies of insignificant pioneers, and had not the rest related in the main to the early history of the section. A book promising much on the outside was Hotchkin's History of Western New York. An examination of the title-page, however, dampened our expectations, for there was added the rest of the title, namely, "And of the Rise, Progress, and Present State of the Presbyterian Church." The book proved indeed a delusion and a snare, for of its six hundred pages more than nine tenths pertained to church affairs,—were part and parcel of the cahiers of the clergy. As for the magazine articles on Buffalo, they are few and, from the historical point of view, insignificant.

Of far more interest than the histories of either Cleveland or Buffalo, though perhaps no more important, is that of their nearest common neighbor of equal rank,—Pittsburgh. In very many respects this is one of the most interesting cities in the Union, which is mostly due to the fact that it has such a remarkable location, and that its topography is picturesquely unique. Here we have the strange combination of the blackest, smuttiest, dirtiest hole in the United States,—at night, as Parton said: "All hell with the lid taken off,"—with surroundings half rural, half urban, which for loveliness can scarcely be rivaled by any other city in the land. Sir Henry Holland, who was of the Prince of Wales's suite, when he visited Pittsburgh, remarked to one of the committee of reception that he had, in 1845, spent a week in an equestrian exploration of the suburbs of Pittsburgh; that he had traveled through all the degrees of the earth's longitude, and had not elsewhere found any scenery so diversified, picturesque, and beautiful as that around Pittsburgh. He likened it to a vast panorama, from which, as he rode along, the curtain was dropping behind and rising before him, revealing new beauties continually. "If the business portion of Pittsburgh is a city, half enchanted, of fire and smoke, inhabited by demons playing with fire, the surrounding portion is also under enchantment, of a different kind, and smiles a land of beauty, brightness, and quiet. The one section might be a picture by Tintoretto, and the other by Claude Lorraine."

On the twenty-fourth of November, 1753, no human habitation stood on the peninsula between the Alleghany and Monongahela Rivers. On that day Washington recorded in his journal: "I think it extremely well situated for a fort, as it has absolute command of both rivers." In the following spring the English began the erection of a stockade here, which, on the twenty-fourth of April, was surrendered to the French under Captain Contrecoeur Who at once proceeded to the erection of Fort Du Quesne.

Round this name centres a wealth of incident, romance, and history, but no one has risen to do it justice. Braddock's ill-starred expedition was followed by the abandonment of the fort by the French, in November, 1758, and its subsequent rebuilding as Fort Pitt. The fate of the little hamlet which sprang up around it was for a long time most dubious, but its position as a frontier post on the line of the ever westward-retreating Indians, and on the edge of the vast unknown wilderness, just beginning to allure adventurous pioneers, kept it from falling into the oblivion with which it was threatened by the dismantling of the fort and the troublous Revolutionary times. Yet as late as 1784 so experienced a man as Arthur Lee, the Virginian, who had been a commissioner at the court of Versailles with Franklin and Deane, and who visited this hamlet in December of this year, said of it: "Pittsburgh is inhabited almost entirely by Scots and Irish, who live in paltry log-houses, and are as dirty as in the north of Ireland, or even in Scotland. There is a great deal of small trade carried on, the goods being brought at the vast expense of forty-five shillings per cwt. from Philadelphia and Baltimore. They take in the shops money, flour, and skins. There are in the town four attorneys, two doctors, and not a priest of any persuasion, nor church, nor chapel; so that they are likely to be damned without the benefit of clergy. The place, I believe, will never be considerable."

This "small trade" which Lee speaks of was to develop in a very few years to gigantic proportions, and was to make Pittsburgh for the while the commercial metropolis of the West. She maintained this position until the westward march of civilization had left her far in the rear; and then the garrison which the vast army of pioneers left here found in the coal and iron under their very feet a Fortunatus's purse. Thus, far different was the fate of Pittsburgh from that of Marietta, Portsmouth, Lexington, and the like, which sank into comparative obscurity as soon as they had ceased to be outposts of Uncle Sam's army of emigrants.

Here, then, do we lack materials for history? What historian could ask for a more romantic starting-point than Old Fort Du Quesne? a more interesting topic for a chapter than Fort Pitt? a more picturesque subject than the batteurs and voyageurs of the Ohio? What more fruitful themes can there be than the rise of the iron, the glass, the oil industry, the steamboat commerce of our interior, the subjection of the Monongahela, the combination of a city which reminds the traveler of Hades, with suburbs which suggest metaphors about Paradise? And can he not find food for inquiry and thought in the great riots of 1877?

Yet the only historian of Pittsburgh is Neville B Craig, whose short and not over-attractive history ends with the middle of this century, if we remember rightly. His subject is neither thoroughly nor ably treated, and it is not presented to the public in an agreeable form. The book is one of the past generation, and we publish better histories than did our fathers. In 1876, Samuel H. Thurston presented the public with a small volume, entitled Pittsburgh and Alleghany in the Centennial. It contained a little history and a great deal of bombast; and, moreover, the greater part of it was filled with statistical details pertaining to the Centennial year alone. Yet from this book had to be taken most of the historical sketch which will be found in the Census Report. Egle's History of Pennsylvania tells us something about Pittsburgh, and magazine articles are plenty, though historically of little value.

St. Louis is more plentifully supplied with histories than any other Western city, and these histories are as much worse as they are more numerous. One of these deserves notice, from the fact that its title-page so ridiculously and exasperatingly misrepresents its contents. This page reads as follows: "Edwards's Great West and her Commercial Metropolis, embracing a complete History of St. Louis, from the landing of Ligueste, in 1764, to the present time; with portraits and biographies of some of the old settlers, and many of the most prominent business men. By Richard Edwards and M. Hopewell, M.D. Splendidly illustrated. 1860. $5." This seemed to promise well, but when we turned the page and read the introduction, our expectations were, to say the least, somewhat shaken, and our sense of the eternal fitness of things somewhat shocked, when we found the citizens of St. Louis called "a powerful Maecenas." Shade of Virgil! What a profanation!

Any book that is preceded by a dedication, a preface, an introduction, and a full-page portrait of the author (with a big A), must, in the very nature of things, be a monstrosity. But, leaving these anomalies out of account, in the present instance, the composition of the book is sufficient proof that the epithet is not undeserved. "And this is so, for,"—as Herodotus would say,—in a book called Edwards's Great West, the "Great West" is summarily and mercilessly disposed of in just five pages. Then follow eighty-two pages of biographies and portraits, ingeniously defended by the author as follows: "Biographies of those who have become identified with the progress of the great city, who have guarded and directed its business currents year by year, swelling with the elements of prosperity, and who have left the impress of their genius and judgment upon the legislative enactments of the State, must be sought after with avidity, and must be fraught with useful instruction." There is no question that these biographies are fraught with useful instruction—all biographies are; but to assert that they must be sought after with avidity is a little too much to be swallowed. Such assertions show either deplorable ignorance or unwarrantable misrepresentation of human nature, and in this case we are convinced it must be the latter. Edwards knew perfectly well—for he seems to have been sane—that nobody but the subjects of these biographies would seek them "with avidity," and he made these plausible, bombastic assertions to excuse himself for having sprung such a trap on an unsuspecting public. That he tries to palliate the offence is, sufficient proof of his guilt.

Mark what he says about the "splendidly illustrated" portion of his book. "It will be a source of satisfaction to the reader," says he, "that the engravings of individuals who adorn this work are not drawn by the flighty imagination from airy nothingness, but represent the lineaments of men," etc. "Airy nothingness" is refreshing!

Part II, also, is almost wholly devoted to biographies, one batch being introduced with this sage remark: "Biography is the most important feature of history; for the record of the lives of individuals appears to be invested with more vitality and interest than the dry details of general historical narrative." Q.E.D.—of course. With Part III we reach the history of St. Louis, contained in one hundred and eighty pages, and worth more or less as a history. Then come one hundred and seventy pages more of biographies, an appendix of fifteen pages, and about thirty pages of views of manufacturing establishments. And this book is called The Great West. No further comment seems necessary.

Of all the many rich and racy things the writer has run across in his explorations in the literature of American cities, the richest and raciest is a book called St. Louis: The Future Great City of the World, by L.U. Reavis. The very title-page gives an inkling of the nature of the contents by its motto, savoring somewhat of cant: "Henceforth St. Louis must be viewed in the light of the future—her mightiness in the empire of the world—her sway in the rule of states and nations." This book, strangely enough, was "published by order of the St Louis County Court," in 1870, on the petition of forty-five of the leading citizens and firms of the city, who were represented before the court by a committee headed by Captain James B. Eads, the renowned engineer, and containing one captain, five honorables, and two esquires. The first edition consisted of one hundred and six pages, which were as vainglorious and boastful, as crowded with laudatory adjectives, glowing periods, and bombastic prophecies, as ever one hundred and six published pages were.

However, it evidently suited the St. Louis palate, for a second edition bears date of the same year, and in 1871 a third appeared in a considerably enlarged form. This last one is the most interesting, for it contains a preface and a finis which for pure, undiluted presumption have never been excelled. The former is entitled "Explanatory," and is worth quoting entire: "A presentation of Causes in Nature and Civilization which, in their reciprocal action tend to fix the position of the FUTURE GREAT CITY OF THE WORLD in the central plain of North America, showing that the centre of the world's commerce and civilization will, in less than one hundred years, be organized and represented in the Mississippi Valley, and by St. Louis, occupying as she does the most favored position on the continent and the Great River; also a complete representation of the great railway system of St. Louis, showing that in less than ten years she will be the greatest railway centre in the world." Even the most arrogant citizen of St. Louis would hardly have the boldness to maintain that ten years after this prophecy was made, in 1881, St. Louis was "the greatest railway centre in the world," or even that she was one of the greatest. As to the one-hundred years prophecy nothing can as yet be affirmed, for it has eighty-seven years more to run, but if the last thirteen can be taken as a criterion, St. Louis has a big contract on her hands.

The last page is the most curious in the book, and in its way is certainly unique. It is called "A Closing Word," and, being printed in italics, has an air of emphasis and force peculiarly appropriate. The author begins: "Thus have I written a new record—a new prophecy of a city central to a continent of resources;" and so he goes on for half a page of ridiculous bombast until he finishes the climax of epithets by calling this "the Apocalyptic City—

'The New Jerusalem, the ancient seer Of Patmos saw.'

"All hail! mistress of nations and beautiful queen of civilization! I view thee in the light of thy destiny. Thou art transfigured before me from thy present state to one infinitely more grand, and which overshadows and dwarfs all civic forms in history.

"The influence of thy empire will pervade the world with invisible and electric force. Yet, vivifying and benignant capital,—emporium of trade and industry, seat of learning and best-applied labor, pivotal point in history, supreme and superb city of all lands,—I behold thy majesty from afar, and salute thee reverently as the consummation of all that the best human energies can accomplish for the elevation and happiness of our race.

"All hail! Future Great City of the World, and 'Glory to God in the Highest and on Earth Peace, Goodwill toward Men.'"

This reminds one equally of Walt Whitman and Artemas Ward. Yet it is not burlesque. It appears to have been written in good faith, and for this reason the incongruity of such a grandiloquent rhapsody on such a prosaic subject is all the more noticeable. As an example of "fine writing" it has seldom been surpassed, and for sheer nonsense it is unequaled in American literature.

These books on St. Louis call to mind a history of Milwaukee of a somewhat similar nature—similar in its magnificent pretensions to the last-described work, and in its biographical characteristics to Edwards's Great West. The book referred to was published in Chicago, in 1881, by the Western Historical Company, A.T. Andreas, proprietor. Holy Herodotus! To think of history becoming a thing of "companies"—on a par with life insurance, railroads, gas-works, and cotton factories! And an "historical company" with a proprietor, too!

But let us look into this monumental tome. (Do not think that adjective hyperbolical, for surely monumental is not too strong a word to describe a book which would just about balance in weight an unabridged dictionary.) Some idea of the immensity of the undertaking can be obtained when, as the preface says, "it is known that nearly one year's time was consumed and an average force of twenty-five men employed in the labor of obtaining information and preparing the manuscript for the printer's hands. The result of this vast effort is the presentation of a History which stands unparalleled in the experience of publishers." The book is a quarto and contains sixteen hundred and sixty-three pages. The letter-press is unexceptionable; each page is surrounded by a neat border; the paper is good; the binding is excellent.

And yet the actual history of this city dates back little more than half a century—not a lifetime. Here is history with a vengeance! The riddle, however, is solved the instant we glance over the pages, for we find the mass of the book made up of biographies,—biographies in front, biographies to the right, biographies to the left, everywhere biographies,—to the grand sum total of nearly four thousand. A book much like this would have been made had the Crown published the Giant Petition trundled into Parliament on a wheelbarrow in the times of George the Third, when Lord George Gordon was the hero of the day. About as valuable, about as readable, about as bulky, about as good for kindling fires!

But let the perpetrator plead his cause in his own words—and it must be conceded he does it well. "The plan of the History of the city of Milwaukee, which is herewith presented to the public," he says in his preface, "possesses the merit of originality. It is based upon the fact that in all older regions, a serious deficiency exists even in the most exhaustive histories which it is possible now to compile through the absence of personal and detailed records of pioneer men and deeds. The primary design of this work is to preserve for future historians as complete an encyclopaedia of early events in Milwaukee, and the actors therein, as patient labor and unstinted financial expenditure can procure."

We thank the Western Historical Company, or Mr. Andreas, for this benevolent and philanthropic spirit, but really he must not expect us to believe that pecuniary profit is only a secondary design of this work. But supposing for a moment that the primary design was as philanthropic and unselfish as Mr. Andreas would have us think, let us consider its worth; for, if we grant this premise, we must admit the truth of the conclusion reached, and then must give unstinted praise to the fruits of such a conclusion, a volume like the one before us. But the premise is specious and false. The deficiency that exists through the absence of personal and detailed records of pioneer men and deeds is not serious: on the contrary, in most cases, we should be devoutly thankful that it exists. Of the generations after that of the pioneers we would know much; of that of the pioneers themselves, something. But who is there, or will there be, that cares a picayune whether the third cobbler in Milwaukee (this history would call him the third manufacturer of shoes) was born in April or June, 1806, or whether he came from Tipperary or Heidelberg, or whether his wife died of the pneumonia or the whooping-cough? To be sure we would be glad to know whether the early settlers of Milwaukee were mainly young or mainly old when they came here, whether they were mainly German or Irish, and what where the prevalent diseases in different localities at an early period, but to ask an intelligent being to wade through nearly four thousand "personal histories" in order ascertain these facts is, to say the least, somewhat of an imposition on his good nature.