in authority to commit this gross outrage upon taste and propriety. Had this slip continued in reserve, how beautiful might it now have become! As taste, aided by wealth, began to have its hold among the citizens, it would have been upon the fronts of this great artery that those beautiful churches, public buildings and dwellings, now scattered over so large a space, would have been erected. Here for a distance of more than a mile would have been placed a continuous range of palace-like structures; and here, under the shade of trees "the growth of quite a century" would the gay, the brave and the fair have sat, walked or rode. What a picture would have been presented here on a midsummer night, or at the close of an autumn day! Groups of merry children disporting around, gaily dressed ladies and dashing beaux, a throng of proud equipages and horsemen, the sound of the infant's prattle, girlhood's ringing laugh, the mingling of joyous voices, and above all and beyond all the tall and sombre forms of majestic trees raised in relief against the sky, the green carpeted earth and smiling little flowers, and all this in the very heart of a great city--all forms a picture upon which the fancy loves to dwell, and a picture which might readily have been realized had not that inordinate and purely American worship of Gain blotted it from the canvass almost before the designer had expressed it with his pencil. Nor was a flagrant want of taste the worst feature in this. The whole of the present site of the city at that early day was intersected with ponds of stagnant water. The second bank had something of a descent towards the interior, and the soil, though alluvious, was of sufficient tenacity to retain the water which fell in rain. The result was that the whole of this valley from Beargrass to Salt river was filled with these ponds; and, as a necessary consequence, miasmata were bred, which produced a great deal of sickness, more especially with strangers. So great indeed was the influence thus induced that acclimation was then considered as necessary here as it now is in New Orleans or on the coast of Africa. Many of the present citizens of Louisville will be surprised to know that this very city, now so celebrated for its healthiness as to make its salubrity an inducement to immigration from all parts of the country, was once known as "the Graveyard of the Ohio." The city worthies who took upon themselves to sell "the Slip" in lots, had at that time no data to induce them to believe in the future healthfulness of their place and yet they must have perceived the increasing prosperity of the town; hence it became almost criminal in them to put away what then seemed the only barrier to disease, and almost to invite its approaches by allowing the city to be compactly built without room for the pure and wholesome circulation of air, but shutting up, as it were, disease and death within their very walls. As the