The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 90, April, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 90, April, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
Under these cheerful auspices the descent was accomplished, and, by some
miracle, without accident.
At the foot of the bluff commences the slough in which Oil City is set;
and as it deepened, the horses gradually sank from view, until only
their backs were visible, floundering through a sea of oily mud of a
peculiarly tenacious character. Miselle has the warning of Munchausen
before her eyes; but, in all sadness, she avers that in the principal
street of Oil City, and at the door of the principal hotel, the mud was
on that day above the hubs of the wagon-wheels.
Having refreshed themselves in body and mind at the Petroleum House,
where a lady in a soiled print dress and much jewelry kindly played at
them upon a gorgeous piano, the party went forth to view the city.
The same mingling of urgent civilization and unsubdued Nature observable
in Corry characterizes Oil City to a greater extent. On one side of the
street, crowded with oil-wagons, the freight of each worth thousands of
dollars, stand long rows of dwellings, shops, and warehouses, all built
within two years, and on the other impinges a bluff still covered with
its forest growth of shrubs and wood-plants,--while upon the frowning
front of a cliff that has for centuries faced nothing meaner than the
Alleghany, with its mountain background, some Vandal has daubed the
advertisement of a quack nostrum.
Farther on, where the bluff is less precipitous, it has been graded
after a fashion; and the houses built at the upper side of the new
street seem to be sliding rapidly across it to join their opposite
neighbors, which, in their turn, are sinking modestly into the mud.
A plank sidewalk renders it possible to walk through the principal
streets of this city; but temptation to do so is of the slightest.
Monotonous lines of frail houses, shops whose scanty assortment of goods
must be sold at enormous prices to pay the expense of transportation
from New York or Philadelphia, crowds of oil-speculators, oil-dealers,
oil-teamsters, a clumsy bridge across the Creek, a prevailing atmosphere
of petroleum,--such is Oil City.
At the water-side the view is somewhat more interesting. No wharves
have yet been built; and the swarming flatboats "tie up" all along the
bank, just as they used to do three years ago, when, with a freight of
lumber instead of oil, they stopped for the night at the solitary little
Dutch tavern then monopolizing the site of the present city.
A rakish little stern-wheel steamer lay in the stream, bound for
Pittsburg, and sorely was Miselle tempted to take passage down the
Alleghany in her; but lingering memories of home and the long-suffering
Caleb at last prevailed, and, with a sigh, she turned her back upon the
beautiful river, and retraced her steps through yards crowded with
barrels of oil waiting for shipment,--oil in rows, oil in stacks, oil in
columns, and oil in pyramids wellnigh as tall and as costly as that of
Cheops himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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