Chameleons, Snakes, Reptiles and Midges. The Culminating day of a Southern Winter .......................... My trunks had been packed, the "good-byes" had been given, and I had couched down, for it was getting deep into the evening, to take a little rest, previous to my leaving home on the 12 o'clock train. An hour before midnight my brother awoke me; we went over to the depot, and soon the train came rumbling in from the east. There was one "good bye" yet to be given the final one to my brother-and all of the others that had been given, were in it. Uttering this, was parting from friends and home again, and all at once. The bell rang-the good bye was said-my brother left the cars. As he left, he said something to me that then appeared of not much consequence, but which, lingering in my mind, I afterwards realized to be this good advice: "Make no man your confidential friend; trust none, and none will deceive you." On we went. I was alone among strangers. The first moment I felt all the sadness of leaving home weighing upon me. I essayed to throw it off-it yielded an instant, then came back with heavier force. A gentleman by my side, who had observed our parting, tried to engage in conversation, as if to cheer me up; but it was dull talking with me. I however rallied at length, and began to talk; but every now and then I felt all the love of home one ever feels on leaving it. Ah! this is the time when one rightly estimates and loves brothers-sisters-parents-home. But away we go from them. 66 Galesburgh!" shouts the conductor as we come near that place. A rustle among the passengers; one man gets off, and on we go again. "Kalamazoo!" cries out the conductor; satchels are siezed, three or four get off, several get on, and away we speed. "Paw Paw!" "Decatur!" "Dowagiac!' "Niles!" are each cried out in succession, almost ere the sound of the preceding one had died away. This is not traveling, but only stopping at places. I have traveled this road once, in the old, slow, rocking stagecoach, when time and distance had their tedium, and when the winding of the stage-horn heralded your coming into these villages, or into the newer ones that had sprung up here in this western land, almost with the magic of wild flowers, along the old territorial road. But now, instead of the twanging stage-horn, the shrill piping of the steam-car, as we rush with the speed of the wind from place to place, warns the villager and the ex pectant traveler, of its coming-warns for relay men, not horses; steam has been harnessed in iron bands and "Chain'd to the flying car." But here we are! We have outstripped the night and overtaken the dawn of day at Michigan City; the people have just risen and come about the depot rubbing their eyes. Those large outspreading flats and marshes that preface your entrance into Chicago, tire the vision; but when you arrive at that city, the eye finds glad and delightful objects to rest on, along Michigan Avenue, that most neat, tasteful and elegant street of residences. Its shrubbery was in its autumn hues. The dwellings seemed to vie with each other in beauty of structure, style and ornamental finishings. Morning came in, in all its glory, as we rode along this avenue. Seeing this fine street, all aglow with the purple and gold of sunrise, like reading a beautiful line of poetry, affects one as a joy forever. Getting out of the cars in that "Mammoth Cave"-the Central Depot-one would think that the builders of Babel had just found out that they could not understand each other, and had met here in "confused conclave" to reconcile the jargon of their tongues; but failing to accomplish it, each one was screaming at the top of his voice to be heard. In half an hour, myself, effects and fortunes, were embarked upon the Illinois Central train for St. Louis. Now for a ride over the heaven-wide prairies of Illinois. In an hour or two, like a vessel on the bosom of calm old Ocean, we were moving on o'er a vast and boundless plain. The old Scotch tourist was right when he said that “Nature kept these magnificent prairies to whip creation with.' We passed some fine villages, that looked like "sweet Auburns" scattered over this interminable prairie; for we rode all day and all night till the next morning, over prairie, prairie, nothing but prairie! and most of the route, without a lady in the car. It was like a spring without flowers-autumn without her rosemaries, hollies and myrtles. But though we had slow traveling, we had kind conductors over this Prairie State. Crossing the ferry at Illinoistown, we were soon whirled up into the city of St. Louis, and stepped out of the hack and into the Planter's House just as grey morning was streaking the dappled east. St. Louis was settled in 1664-six years earlier than Detroit. In 1820 it had some five thousand inhabitants; now it claims one hundred and twenty thousand. Its commerce, as an inland town, rivals the world. It is the natural depot of the vast and fertile regions watered by the Missouri, the upper Mississippi, the Illinois and their tributaries. Its levee is a limestone bank, solidly paved for over two miles, and its whole length is alive with the stir and strife of business. By mistake I had gone to the Planter's House while my trunks had been checked to the Barnum House. Both buildings are of massive structure. As soon as it was daydawn I went in search of my trunks. Found them at Barnum's-one injured very much. Solidity and grandeur characterize this city. Its high and grand buildings tower above you, as you walk along its narrow streets. But I don't know where I have met a more intellectual, business, healthy looking people than are passing and re-passing me in throngs. Ladies of beauty, in all the splendor of dress, and countenances flushed with health. After breakfast, with an old citizen, I went about |