cobble stone. Dust in summer was insufferable, and in winter the mud would be ankle deep, and in some places "up to the hub." By way of making crossings, a narrow mound of ashes and cinders would be raised across the street, and woe to him or her who, on a dark night, deviated from the right path.

A small stream used to flow rather diagonally across Main street; its source was a spring or springs flowing from the hill which terminated below the present Metropolitan Hall, formerly the First Presbyterian Church; it passed in a trunk through Byrd's warehouse, and flowed along an alley, the entrance of which is now spanned by a wide arch at what lately was Mr. Womble's store, above Fourteenth street. Its course continued openly and boldly across Main street, but was then concealed until it emerged in Exchange alley, and flowed along Virginia and across Cary streets to the river. Sometimes with its affluents from the gutters, after a rain, it would spread over the entire surface of Virginia street, and convey to the river a liberal contribution of gravel and mud. All these vagaries are now hidden by a culvert, concealing, like the under-ground railroad, many foul movements.*

* This book certainly produced a sensation, as is noted in several instances. On its first appearance, as if to verify its statement, the culvert, which had lain concealed for fifty years,

A somewhat successful attempt was made by the residents on Main street, at about the close of the last century, to beautify it by planting trees; and Mr. Jefferson's (recently introduced) favorite exotic, the Lombardy poplar, which was then all the rage, was chosen above all the trees of the forest. It flourished, as many of its countrymen have on our soil, and its towering summits soon aspired to, and even overtopped the height of the chimneys; but pride must have a fall. The national plant of Virginia (unjustly stigmatized as a weed) may naturally be supposed to have become jealous of the foreign upstart that towered above her near her native fields at every homestead, and it is as natural to imagine that she induced the insects she had nourished to make an attack on the invader, and a successful one it proved. The great caterpillars were not recognized by the people as native tobacco worms, but were stigmatized as poisonous foreigners, and as being ungratefully introduced and nourished by the exotic themselves had cherished. The rage now took an opposite course. Evidence as strong was adduced against the caterpillars, as of yore against the witches, and the decision was equally just and fatal to both. The axe was put to the roots of the trees, and scarcely

caved in, and disclosed the stream, which should have been ashamed to expose itself in so filthy a condition. `

one in all the region around survives to show the injustice of the sentence.

Main street did not extend far beyond Harris's house (Eleventh street) in habitable guise, in those days. Gullies and swamps crossed its path. Where Tan-bark-hall stood, and Bosher's row stands,* were the tan-yards of Bockius and McKechnie. A path of tan bark or of boards enabled pedestrians to reach the nearly uninhabited regions beyond, but carriages rarely ventured through the swamp or up the ascent beyond it. The eaves of the houses used by the tanners were not so high as the present foot-way. There was a good skating pond in winter on the lot on the north side of the street. The family of McKim owned and resided. on the property where Corinthian Hall and other buildings now rear their tall heads, in place of the ancient and lowly structures lately removed. This portion of the city from Fifth to Eleventh street has undergone great transformations-it was originally hills, valleys and even morass; indeed. similar inequalities existed everywhere except on the summits of the hills. The levelings recently made or now in progress north of Marshall street, are an illustration of those made south of Grace street. Indeed the original and the present sur

* This row was demolished in 1859, to make room for a large hotel and other extensive edifices--being the 3d edition or erection of them, (1860).

face of the city may be compared to the contrast of the waves in a storm, and their subsidence during a calm.

Quite a rural and romantic spot was the square on the north side of Main street, between Sixth and Seventh-a steep hill, and a little valley shaded with forest trees; a spring, the water of which formed a pond for fishing and skating-the silence broken only by the singing of birds, the croaking of frogs or the sports of children.

Now it is one of the noisest spots in the cityfilled with work-shops, with machinery propelled by steam for preparing all sorts of building materials in wood, iron, stone or stucco, as are the adjacent squares.

I ought to apologize for pursuing a devious course, for I now descend from the upper end of Main street to the south-west end of the market bridge, where was the parterre of Mons. Didier Colin, Perruquier, extending from his house down to the margin of Shockoe creek. Looking over the parapet of the bridge, the pedestrian might have his senses regaled with the sight and smell of various flowers in their season. The spot on which they grew is now covered with brick buildings, but the creek, not reconciled to the encroachment, sometimes rises in its wrath and drives the invaders from their watery regions.

A place of great public resort during many

years after about 1810, for politicians, quidnuncs, stock-jobbers, and in general those who had nothing else to do, was Lynch's Coffee House, two doors below the Globe, which Mr. Lynch had vacated. Here all the news, foreign and domestic, rumors true or false, scandal and tittle-tattle centered, and from hence it was diffused, with increased vigor at each corner round which it circulated. Here windy talkers would blow their bellows, and tedious ones tire their listeners; but here also men of note might frequently be listened to, and here Mr. Lynch held his stock auctions. The most difficult thing at this reading-room, was a quiet perusal of the papers; but with all its disadvantages, it was an useful place of resort, where a-body could meet a-body; and it does no credit to Richmond, that a reading-room cannot now be well sustained; it must be ascribed to the great industry of its merchants and professional men, who have no time to spare.

At Lynch's during times of political excitement, as soon as the papers were obtained from the post office, he would open the most important one and read the news aloud to the assembled multitude. During the war with Great Britain, and when General Scott was on the Canadian frontier, he read aloud "the army is in statu quo." 66 Indeed!" said one of his hearers, "how far is that from Montreal? And on another occasion he