located the immense malleable iron works of Pratt & Letchworth, said to be the largest manufactory of the kind in the world. Their goods certainly find a world-wide market, taking in New England and the Pacific coast, Mexico, England and Australia. A pretty picture of the country seat of Mr. Letchworth, at Portage, New York, may be seen at the Historical Rooms. It is named Glen Iris, and is surrounded by handsome grounds, groves and fountains.
Boating on the Niagara is much in vogue here, notwithstanding the rapid current and the dreadful certainty of the Falls in case of accident. The keeper of a boat house at Black Rock, opposite Squaw Island, told me that the proportion of accidents on the river was frightfully large—far greater than ever got into the public prints.
SOLDIERS' MONUMENT AT BUFFALO, NEW YORK.
Forest Lawn Cemetery—Buffalo's city of the dead—is one of the loveliest burial places between Brooklyn and Chicago. It is picturesque with hill and dale and grove, not to mention a large artificial lake lapped in one of its grassy hollows, and a winding, wide and rocky-bedded creek running through it. The name of the creek is spelled S-c-a-j-a-q-u-a-d-a and pronounced Kon-joc'-e-ta. The Pratt monument, in a remote portion of the grounds, is perhaps the handsomest in the cemetery. It looks like a gothic gateway with fluted pillars of Italian marbles. A sculptured image of a child of one of the Fargos—of the famous Wells, Fargo & Co.—rests under a glass case on the lap of earth which marks her grave. The head is peculiarly noble, reminding one of that of the Belvidere Apollo. It is said to be a truthful likeness. Decoration Day at Forest Lawn was a picture long to be remembered. On a little knoll under the trees at the entrance to the grounds the military and civic processions assembled to listen to the eloquent words of Rev. Mr. Barrett, of Rochester. When the brief address was concluded, and the band music and singing were over, we followed the committees of decoration to the scattered graves of the patriot dead, and witnessed the strewing of flowers upon their sacred dust. A hushed circle above the mound of earth, a few fitly-spoken words from one of their number who knew the soldier-hero, and the floral tributes were tenderly placed above the sleeper's head. Thus, oh heroes, shall your memory be kept forever green! The flowers were wrought into every symbolic shape by which the language of affection could be translated. Crowns, and crosses, and stars, and anchors of hope, spoke their love and solace. The graves of the Confederate dead were also decorated, and side by side, under a common mantle of flowers, the Blue and the Gray received alike the benediction of the hour.
"Then beautiful flowers strew,
This sweet memorial day,
With tears and love for the Blue,
And pity for the fallen Gray."
At Forest Lawn, also, on the historic seventeenth of June—the Bunker Hill Centennial—a monument was dedicated to the memory of nine Spauldings who fought at that battle, one hundred years before. The granite cenotaph was erected by E. G. Spaulding, of Buffalo, descended from the same blood with the heroic nine. The names of the list inscribed on the Western front of the monument were headed by that of his grandfather, Levi Spaulding, who was captain of the ninth company, third regiment, under Colonel Reed, of the New Hampshire troops, engaged on that day.
"For bright and green the memory still
Of those who stood on Bunker Hill,
And nobly met the battle shock,
Firm as their native granite rock."
Speeches reviving Revolutionary memories, and fresh descriptions of the Bunker Hill contest, were in order. There was a semi-military procession, and the interest felt in the occasion was general. A grand reception at Mr. Spaulding's residence in the evening, concluded the patriotic anniversary.
The large park adjoining Forest Lawn is plentiful in attractions, including the delights of boating on the Konjoceta and loitering in the shadowy coolness of the primeval woods. In addition to these, Buffalo is completing a grand boulevard system which encircles half the City, beginning at what is called the Front, in the neighborhood of Fort Porter, and making the circuit of the outskirts through Bidwell and Lincoln and Humboldt parkways to the intersection of Genesee street with the Parade, on the opposite arc of the circle. One is sure to find cool breezes along this drive, though the day be the hottest of the season. Indeed, the summer heats are, at all times, shorn of their fervor in this Queen City of the Lakes, and its climatic advantages are, therefore, superior.
Delaware Avenue is the leading street of Buffalo for private residences, and here much of the aristocracy do congregate. It is about three miles long, and double rows of shade trees line either side. Fast driving on this avenue is licensed by city authority, and racing down its gentle incline is much in vogue. In winter, when sleighing is good, this is carried to greater excess, and the snowy road is black with flying vehicles. Main street, the principal business thoroughfare of the city, at least for retail trade, is wide, well paved and straight, and is built up with substantial business blocks. Its sister thoroughfare on the east, Washington street, towards the lower end as it approaches the lake, degenerates into manufacturing, and the buzz of machinery and incessant din of hammers break in on the maiden meditations of the passive sight-seer.
As one approaches the Terrace, which is an elbow of blocks at one end and a diagonal at the other, one is confronted by a confusion of cross streets, which look as if they had been gotten up expressly to demoralize one's points of compass. They all look out on Buffalo harbor and the sea-wall beyond. Ohio street, following the bend of the harbor, is the great elevator district of the greatest grain mart in the world. Here, when business is at high tide, between two and three million bushels of grain per day are transferred by these giant monsters with high heads. The business places of this department of Buffalo enterprise are located principally on Central Wharf, in this vicinity, which fronts the harbor and which is crowded with offices two tiers deep.
Along the wharf the very air is charged with bustle and activity. Vessels of all descriptions are arriving and departing at all hours, and the commerce of the great lakes pours its flood tide into Buffalo through this gateway.
As for churches and schools, the city overflows with them. It is sprinkled in all directions with handsome religious edifices, like interrogation points, in stone and brick, asking the questions of a higher life. And there are thirty-six public schools, besides the State Normal, the Central, and the Buffalo Female Academy. This last is under the able guidance of Dr. Chester. But even these do not complete the list, as I understand there are numerous other private institutions of learning.
In one of the triangular pieces of ground where the three streets of Niagara, Erie and Church make their entrance into Main street, stands the picturesque structure of St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral. It is built of brown stone, and the creeping ivy nearly covers one end of it, from the crosses and minarets at the pinnacle to the trailing vines on the ground. The gray, gothic edifice of St. Joseph's Romish Cathedral, fronting on Franklin street, is also very large, and the interior is rich in architectural design.
As for the immeasurable realm of books, Buffalo furnishes her children access to this, through her libraries. Chiefest among them is the Grosvenor, which has a bit of history all by itself. It was founded by a retired merchant of New York, who had lived in Buffalo during the earliest infancy of the city, and whose property had been destroyed when the then frontier village was fired by the British and Indians, in retaliation for the burning of Newark. This generous gentleman also left thirty thousand dollars to found a reference library for the High School of New York City. His will provided a legacy of ten thousand for Buffalo, to be applied towards a fire-proof building for a library, and the sum of thirty thousand, the interest of which was to be used for the purchase of books. The building fund having been on interest ever since, now amounts to twenty-eight thousand, and in addition the city has donated what is known as the Mohawk street property, used at present for police purposes, which will sell for an amount sufficiently large, together with the deposit already on hand, to erect a handsome building. The library is now located over the Buffalo Savings Bank, facing a pleasant little park between Washington and Main streets.
In 1870 the interest had more than doubled the donation, and the Trustees then