ve his eyes peeled to make money; as for the lazy man, he hasn't the
ghost of a chance here."

My guide took me along the principal streets, which were full of
traffic and bustle, the men evidently intent upon business, pushing
on, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. The streets are
mostly stone-paved, and, in spite of the heavy snow which has fallen,
they are clean and well kept. We passed the City Hall, the Chamber of
Commerce, and the Post Office--all fine buildings. In the principal
streets, the houses are five stories high, with handsome marble
fronts. The office of the 'Chicago Tribune,' situated at the corner of
one of the chief thoroughfares, is a splendid pile with a spacious
corner entrance. The Potter Palmer block, chiefly occupied as a
gigantic draper's shop--here called a Dry Goods' Store--is an immense
pile of buildings, with massive marble front handsomely carved. But
the building which promises shortly to overtop all others in Chicago,
is the Pacific Hotel, now in course of erection,--an enormous
structure, covering an acre and a half of ground, with a frontage of
325 feet, and a height of 104 feet. It is expected to be the largest
and finest building in the city, until something else is projected to
surpass and excel it.

In my progress through the streets I came upon two huge steam cranes
at work, hoisting up stuff from a great depth below. I was told that
this was the second tunnel in course of construction underneath the
bed of the river to enable the traffic to pass across without the
necessity for bridges. The stream over the tunnel was busy with
shipping. In one street I passed a huge pile of dead pigs in front of
a sausage shop. They go in pigs and come out sausages. Pork is one of
the great staples of the place; the number of pigs slaughtered in
Chicago being something enormous. The pig-butcheries and pork stores
are among the largest buildings in the city. My guide assures me that
at least a pig a second is killed and dressed in Chicago all the year
through. Another street was occupied by large stores of grain, fruit,
and produce of all kinds. The pathways were filled with farmers and
grain brokers, settling bargains and doing business. And yet it was
not market day, when the streets are far more crowded and full of
bustle.

Some idea of the enormous amount of business in grain done in Chicago
may be formed from the fact that in one year, 1868, sixty-eight
million bushels of gra