"=To the doorways of the West-Wind,
To the portals of the Sunset.="
While, in the old world, armies have been contending for the possession
of narrow strips of territory, in kingdoms themselves smaller than many
single American States, and venerable _savants_ have been predicting
the near approach of the time when the population of the world shall have
outstripped the means of subsistence, there has arisen, between the
headwaters of the Mississippi and the mouth of the stately Columbia, an
imperial domain, more than three times the size of the German empire,
and capable of sustaining upon its own soil one hundred millions of
people. What little has been done--for it is but little,
comparatively--toward the development of its amazing resources, has
called into existence, on its eastern border, two great and beautiful
cities, which have sprung up side by side on the banks of the great
Father of Waters.
It is there, at St. Paul and Minneapolis, that the traveler's journey to
Wonderland may be said to begin. And what could be more fitting? for are
they not wonders in themselves, presenting, as they do, the most
astonishing picture of rapid expansion the world has ever seen?
But it is not their magnitude that excites the greatest surprise. If
there is a single newspaper reader in ignorance of the fact that the
State census of 1885 found them with a population of 240,597? or that
the 23,994 buildings erected within their limits since the beginning of
1882, represent a frontage of over 100 miles and an expenditure of
$69,895,390, or that their banking capital considerably exceeds that of
either San Francisco, New Orleans, Cincinnati or St. Louis, it is
through no fault of the cities themselves. But the visitor may bring
with him a just appreciation of their size and commercial importance,
and yet have had no conception of their beauty, nor of the abounding
evidences of public spirit and private enterprise that will confront him
at every turn.
The position of St. Paul, at the head of navigation, and as the focus of
the railway activity of the Northwest, commands for it an extensive
wholesale trade, its sales aggregating, in 1885, the large sum of
$81,420,000. The surprise with which the visitor views the stately piles
that are the outward and visible signs of the vast commercial and
financial interests of the city, the creation of a few brief seasons, is
no greater than the astonishment with which he realizes the absence of
all appearance of immaturity. In no city in the Union are the business
quarters more solid and substantial; in none is the domestic
architecture more attractive. Nothing is crude, nothing tentative,
nothing transitional.
Clustered around the great Falls of St. Anthony, stand those colossal
flouring mills that have been more than ever the pride and glory of
Minneapolis, since they enabled her to pluck from Chicago's crown one of
the brightest of its jewels. It is a startling commentary upon the much
vaunted supremacy of the great metropolis of the West, that, while the
wheat attracted to its market fell gradually from 34,106,109 bushels in
1879, to 13,265,223 bushels in 1885, the amount handled by the millers
of Minneapolis increased, within the same period, from 7,514,364 bushels
to 32,112,840 bushels. The mills have a total flour-manufacturing
capacity of 33,973 barrels per day, an amount equal to the necessities
of the three most populous States of the Union, or of one-half the
population of Great Britain.
But to turn from the romance of figures to that of song and story.
Should the traveler have any desire to visit the far-famed falls of
Minnehaha, it is now he should gratify it. Situated almost midway
between the two cities, they can be easily reached, either by train,
carriage or river steamboat. The poetic interest with which they have
been invested by their association with the legend of Hiawatha
constitutes but the least of their claims upon the traveler's notice;
and, should he turn aside to visit them, not even the sublime scenery of
Wonderland will entirely efface the memory of their laughing waters.
The residents of St. Paul and Minneapolis are fortunate in having,
within easy access, two of the most beautiful of Minnesota's ten
thousand lakes, White Bear and Minnetonka. Justly celebrated for the
beauty of their scenery and the excellence of their hotel and other
accommodations, they are resorted to annually by thousands of visitors
from far and near. Minnetonka is not inappropriately called the Saratoga
of the Northwest; but no designation, however high-sounding or
significant, can do justice to the exquisite beauty of its scenery or
the sumptuousness of its hotels.
It is time, however, that we were directing our steps toward that
scarcely less luxurious hotel which is waiting to convey us to the
fir-clad slopes of Puget Sound! While holding in honorable remembrance
the names of Watt and Stephenson, surely posterity ought not altogether
to forget those of the inventors of the sleeping car and dining car; for
the railway train of early days was hardly a greater advance upon the
old stage-coach than is the completely equipped train of to-day over its
predecessor of even twenty-five years ago.
The journey from St. Paul to Puget Sound may be said to fall into eight
geographical divisions, with well-marked natural boundaries, and
corresponding in the main to the divisions into which the line has been
formed for operating purposes. The first extends to the Red River of the
North, a distance of 275 miles, lying wholly in the State of Minnesota.
The great attractions of this State are its pine forests, covering
nearly one-half of its entire area, and its numerous beautiful lakes. Of
the latter, there are no fewer than 215 within twenty-five miles of St.
Paul, and they extend right through the central part of the State, on
both sides of the railroad, to the prairie region bordering upon the Red
River. Many of them are of exceeding beauty, especially in the district
known as the