All this urban development is the work of the last fifteen or twenty years. Such communal and united display was not the custom of the early French settlers. They loved the enclosed privacy of their own grounds, as in New Orleans, but times have changed, and the dwellers in St. Louis have changed with them. We drove also in Forest Park, a really beautiful place, with a spaciousness truly magnificent. Our stay in St. Louis was barely a day. We took a glimpse at the river front, once a busy scene with its fleet of steamboats running from the northwestern wilds, by way of the Missouri and its tributaries, and down to the Gulf of Mexico, by way of the Mississippi. But the glory of the steamboating days is gone forever. The iron horse now does the greater part of the carrying trade, and great railroad bridges span the Father of Waters at several points, and more are coming. I took a little independent trip from St. Louis by rail, to Alton, on the Illinois side. It just took three hours; one to get there, one there, and one to return. It was many long years since I resided in Alton, and it was with a sort of fearfulness that I made the excursion. Would any one remember me? Were my friends yet living? And so on. I crossed the great railroad bridge over the Mississippi, and up on the east bank to Alton, which lies just above the confluence of the two great rivers. I passed through, on the Illinois side, what seemed a continuous series of manufacturing settlements, all emphasizing the vast development of industrial enterprises in the West. On arriving at Alton, the changed aspect of all was most apparent. The river front--where in old times I had seen the steamboats line up, and watched their loading and unloading, picturesque by day or by night, but especially attractive when seen under the glare of torches, and enlivened by the songs of the negro hands--was now, almost, unused. The railroad tracks dominated everything, down to the water's edge. I wandered off at random through the streets, until I came to the old familiar Alton Bank, which looked exactly the same. I entered to inquire after friends, and as the clerk was obligingly giving me information, I asked him if he knew a former clerk, Mr. W----, who was there years before. "Oh, yes," said he; "he is now our president." By this time a pleasant face looked fixedly at me, and, in a moment, an outstretched hand grasped mine, and my old friend was calling me by name, and we were once more young men again, when, in the old time, music was our bond of fellowship, and all that that involves. While we were speaking--the bank president and myself--a lady, with her little girl, entered the office, and again my name was called. "I have been following you in the street," she said. "I knew it must be you, but I could scarcely believe my eyes." It was the daughter of a dear friend of years long gone, and her daughter was by her side.