THE RIVER ABREAST OF THE TOWN IS CROWDED WITH STEAMBOATS, LYING IN TWO OR THREE TIERS.']} Here was desolation, indeed.
'The old, old sea, as one in tears, Comes murmuring, with foamy lips, And knocking at the vacant piers, Calls for his long-lost multitude of ships.' The towboat and the railroad had done their work, and done it well and completely.

The mighty bridge, stretching along over our heads, had done its share in the slaughter and spoliation.

Remains of former steamboatmen told me, with wan satisfaction, that the bridge doesn't pay.

Still, it can be no sufficient compensation to a corpse, to know that the dynamite that laid him out was not of as good quality as it had been supposed to be.
The pavements along the river front were bad: the sidewalks were rather out of repair; there was a rich abundance of mud.

All this was familiar and satisfying; but the ancient armies of drays, and struggling throngs of men, and mountains of freight, were gone; and Sabbath reigned in their stead.