THE SUBSCRIBER." homestead, the thrifty descendants of the original settlers have erected a more pretentious, yet comparatively small red-brick house. In some cases the front yard is fenced in and planted with shrubbery, or a few flowers, but as a rule the æsthetics of life appear to be but little regarded. The farms, however, show admirable care and culture, while solid wealth and homely comfort are visible on every side. "Pennsylvania milk, Robert?" can see all there is to be seen and get back to the Junction by three o'clock, - time enough to reach Harrisburg before sunset." The guests are eager to go, and the hosts obliging. The, telegraph must decide. The Captain goes on with his stories of life and adventure in India, and we wait patiently the result of the correspondence over the wires. "All right!" our chief executive exclaims, coming in with a slip of paper. "But we shall have to wait ten or fifteen minutes for a freight-train which has the track." Soon the way is clear, and we are speeding over the level country toward the little town, so unexpectedly, so terribly raised to historic eminence. "Whew! what a dust!" "Dirt ballast, you see." "So I do ; but I can't see much else. Let us go in." All the morning we have been riding outside, undisturbed by dust, amusing ourselves at times with watching the dead leaves spring after us, snatched up by the whirl of wind that follows the car. Like so many dogs, they would take up the chase with sudden impetuosity, follow in hot pursuit for a rod or two, then slacken their speed and whirl off to one side, giving up the race with seeming despair. But here the road-bed "No, sah; got dat at a station 'cross the itself seems whipped into the air. line, sah." "Very rich milk." "Have another glass, sah?" "Thank you, yes. We don't get such milk as that in the city." "Delightful flavor, don't you think?" "Delicious. What do they feed the cattle with over there, Robert?"" "C'on, sah, mostly; rye sometimes, sah. Dere's nothing better'n a little ol' rye, sah, for dat purpose." "Evidently not ;" and the man of science empties the second glass abstractedly, reconsidering his first impression that the peculiar flavor must have been due to something in the soil. The English Captain and one or two others purpose leaving us at Hanover Junction, to visit Gettysburg, and the question is whether the whole party shall not go with them, special train and all. "Can it be done?" "I have noticed the absence of dust all the way, but supposed it had been raining here lately." "On the contrary, it has been very dry; but that inakes no difference with a road well ballasted with stone." At Hanover we are joined by the courteous Superintendent of the Hanover and Gettysburg Road. The railroad men fall to talking business. The rest of us talk over the incidents and issues of the terrible struggle that made Gettysburg one of the focal points of our country's history. Every part of the country-East, West, North, South-is represented in our small company; but there is no partisan feeling, no recrimination, no exultation. The conversation turns rather upon the gallantry, the heroic courage of the opposing forces,-upon personal reminiscences, and those personal amenities which, even on fields of slaughter, are frequent enough to demonstrate the inherent grandeur of pure humanity. Carriages are in waiting at the end of the line, and as our time is short, we are soon climbing the hill toward Cemetery Ridge, passing along the main street of the village,- a thriftless, torpid-looking place, seemingly holds the oppressed With the burden of an honor Unto which it was not born. We go straight to the central position so opportunely fortified after the disastrous retreat of the shattered Eleventh Corps on the afternoon of the first day's fight,-the sharp curve of the ridge on the edge of the town, to the left of the cemetery. From this low mound, against which the tide of war broke so furiously and so vainly, we survey the battle-field. Whip in hand, our intelligent driver traces the approach and disposition of the opposing forces, and with amazing graphicness describes the progress of the battle. The peaceful valley and quiet town swarm again with invading hosts, drawn on by a power they knew not of, to decide the fate of the nation here. Beyond the town, to the westward, Seminary Ridge smokes again, and the cheer of victory is raised. The re-enforcing host pours through the mountain gap, and the victors of the morning are hurled in disastrous retreat through the village. At our feet the pursuit is strangely stayed. By morning the ridge is blue with fresh troops, and the line that could not have been held at sunset is impregnable at sunrise. "This is the Union line, gentlemen, on the morning of the second day. The butt of the whip is Round Top,-you see the crest of the hill beyond the monument. Sickles low ridge there by the peachorchard. We stand at the sharpest point of the curve. To our right is Culp's Hill, the end of the lash." The terrible assault on Sickles's unfortunate line follows; we see it broken-then driven back upon Cemetery Ridge. From distant Round Top the roar of fierce assault comes up, but the point is held. So too the wooded slope and crest of Culp's Hill, the loss of which would leave the "coign of vantage"-this narrow promontory whereon we stand-almost an island. A night of agony, a morning of suspense. Culp's Hill is reassailed. Then there follows that storm of concentrated fire upon this point of the line, the simple thought of which makes us shrink and tremble; then those terrible charges in the face of a fire that swept regiments away like mist. It is vain,-and the war-cloud rolls sullenly away. "Astonishing!" exclaims the English officer, who had followed the driver's description with rapt attention. "Who is this guide?" "Only an uneducated hackman, who has been over the field until he knows every inch of it." "But how intelligent his description, how pertinent his answers! It is not a story that he has learned by rote." "No; he has picked up his knowledge here and there, partly by his own observa tion, but mainly from conversation with officers he has accompanied over the field." "He's a wonderful fellow!" We return to our carriages, ride slowly through the cemetery and around the monument, cast a look of regret toward Round Top, which we have not time to visit, and hurry back to our car, to get ahead of the one-o'clock train. "I say, driver, is there any place in town where one can find any views of the battlefield-or relics? I should like to take something of the kind home with me," the interested Captain explains. "We passed a little shop, where they keep such things, above there a bit." ."Have we time to go back?" Executive looks at his watch. "Yes, if you're quick about it." "To the shop, driver!" our pockets, and he can't sell the relics for lack of knowledge. Bystanders sympathize, and they are numerous. Three carriages at one door are enough to make a sensation in such a quiet place, and all the idlers have gathered to see what's going on. They take up the call. "Where's Mr. Keeper?" The excitement grows as the word is passed along the street. It's as arousing as a dog-fight. "Where's Mr. Keeper?" "Here he comes!" And Mr. Keeper rushes in, hatless and coatless and out of breath. "What's the price of this?" "Ten cents." "And this?" "Five cents." "Must be genuine; couldn't afford to make 'em at that rate!" The variety is as small as the prices, and we are soon satisfied. The excitement subsides, we bear away our trophies, and the startled proprietor sits down to reckon his sales, which must have reached the sum of one dollar. Was he disappointed? If he was not, another was. When news of the arrival of a special train reached the ears of the enterprising proprietor of the new Gettysburg Springs House, he straightway "Somewhere around,-went out only a prepared a dinner that should do justice to minute ago." "Find him." Boy evidently in great tribulation. He can't leave the shop, lest we carry it off in the occasion. But, unhappily, we could not stay to eat it. We dined on the road. Robert's provision does not allow of any regrets for the dinner left behind; and eating at the rate of forty miles an hour is a new sensation, at least to some of us. It is none the less an enjoyable one. But it is indescribable. At Hanover Junction the original Gettysburg party are left behind to take the next rain for Baltimore. We are nine : 1. The Veteran. 2. The Chief Executive of the Party. 3. The Quiet Man, who sees that everybody has a share of all the good things going. 4. The Little Man, who takes a joke hard,and enjoys it. [These four are railroad men; the next five are guests.] 5. The Man who had been Abroad. 6. The Jolly Man. 7. The Man who has been up the Yellowstone, (Artist). 8. The Man who hasn't been Anywhere. 9. The Man who has an Eye for Rocks. "Where's that ore going?" asks the latter, as we pass a long train of flat cars on a siding. "To Baltimore?" "Yes; but not to stay there. It's all shipped to Europe." "Coals to Newcastle!" "Fact, nevertheless. We are carrying large quantities of it for exportation. It's the most remarkable iron-ore-or rather steelore-in the world. It was discovered by Dr. Nes, of York, two or three years ago. The hills along the Codorus are full of it. Smelt it and you have-not pig-iron-but steel, better than the best English steel, at a third the cost." "You see that knife ?" The Little Man exhibits a pocket-knife. "It was made direct from the ore." "By the Bessemer process?" "No; without any extra manipulation. It's silicon-steel." "Oh, I've heard of that," said the Geologist, "but I never took much stock in it." "If you ever had a chance to take stock' in it, and didn't, you may wish you had. It's going to revolutionize the iron business of this country." "How much stock have you to sell?" "None, I'm sorry to say, to sell, or to keep. Seriously, it's a wonderful discovery. "The process of making steel with it is very simple. An ordinary puddling furnace is used. After charging with pig-iron, twenty per cent. of this new ore is added, and the compound is treated like ordinary wroughtiron, only the result is steel. Or, by the addition of fifteen per cent. of this ore a fine HESTONVILLE, NEAR PHILADELPHIA. quality of Bessemer steel can be made of ordinary pig-iron. Large quantities of the ore are now used thus in making both wrought and cast steel. The Elmira Rolling Mills made 10,000 tons of steel rails with it this year. Those we are using on this road wear remarkably well. The Erie Railway and a number of other roads are using the same rails with the greatest satisfaction. For files, lathe tools, fine cutlery, indeed for all purposes for which steel is used, this silicon steel is pronounced--by those who ought to knowsuperior to the best English steel,-and it can be made as cheap as common iron." All this time we are speeding down the beautiful valley of the Codorus. As we approach York the valley widens, the slate and sand-stone (silicious iron-stone) give place to lime-rock. Everywhere are evidences of a rich farming community, rejoicing in fertile fields, immense barns over-filled, and comfortable houses. York is a worthy center to such a region. It is a handsome, thriving, wealthy borough. We shall not see a more beautiful or busier place in the whole breadth of the State. To the north, the fertile lime stone country extends to where we strike the Susquehanna near the double mouth of the Conewago. A long island stands across the mouth of the creek and deflects its waters north or south, as the main stream is low or high. Its rocky course is up-stream now. At this point we enter a region of red-shale, much broken by dikes of trap-rock, which cut up the riverbed and cause the water to rush tumultuously through deep sluices hemmed in by black and jutting reefs. Above York Haven the river is full of slender islands, with occasional reaches of still water, whence long lines of wild-ducks rise and spatter away as we thunder past. Awaiting orders at Goldsboro, we admiringly study the new locomotive that has served us so faithfully to-day. Polished, massive, magnificent, it stands a triumph of human genius,-a type of beautiful strength. "Could we ride with the driver?" "You won't find it so pleasant as you imagine, but you can try it." The conductor signals, the engineer grasps one of the mysterious levers which put him en rapport with the modern behemoth, and the docile monster whisks away as if rejoicing in the lightness of the play-day train behind him. As our speed increases we become painfully aware that we are not on springs. The easy swing of the car does not pertain to the locomotive, which jumps to its work with a rioting, trampling, trip-hammer energy that disdains the thought of ease and soft seems terrific. The country no longer glid away from us with a drifting motion,-it rush on us like a thunderbolt. The trees ar houses have a whirling motion, fierce, tumu tuous, maddening, as though hurled towar a vortex from which we are momentarily e caping. Instinctively we shrink as the trac cuts under us, and the huge rocks by the wa side seem flying at us. Ahead is a curve. What is beyond in We watch the disclosing line with peculi fascination, for terrible possibilities are ev just out of sight. Gradually our senses b come used to their new experience, and w are willing to forego our useless vigilanc On the right the river flows like a river in vision,-noiseless, swift, and strangely calm On the left the hills waltz and reel, bearin down on the track like an endless avalanch Above, the fiery clouds betoken the close c a brilliant day, but it makes us dizzy to loo at them. It is pleasanter to study the stead poise of the driver. Alert, self-possessed unpretending, he sees every inch of the trac by flashes of observation, lets out or restrain the heedless energy of his all but living en gine, and holds the lives of us all with a gras as true as it is seemingly unconscious. W plunge into the shadow of Kittatinny Mour tain, pierce the point of rocks that project into the river, and stop amid a confusion o backing trains, shrieking engines, and th shouts of trackmen. We are at Bridgepor and as soon as the bridge is clear we sha cross to Harrisburg. "I shall have a realizing sense of my obli gation to the engine-driver, after this," re |