Temporary Financial Embarrassment.


During the last quarter of the century in which we write the figures "1"
and "8" in every date line, the steam railroad has, to a very large
extent, put out of joint the nose of the steamboat, just as, at the
present time, we are threatened with so complete a revolution in travel
and motive power as to warrant a prediction that, long before another
quarter of a century has passed, electricity will take the place of
steam almost entirely. But even if this is so, old acquaintance should
not be forgot, and every citizen of the United States should feel that
the prosperity of the country is due, in very large measure, to the
country's magnificent waterways, and to the enterprise of the men who
equipped river fleets and operated them, with varying degrees of profit.

The true river man is not so conspicuous as he was in the days when St.
Louis, Cincinnati, Memphis and other important railroad centers of
to-day were exclusively river towns. The river man was a king in those
days. The captain walked the streets with as much dignity as he walked
his own deck, and he was pointed to by landsmen as a person of dignity
and repute. The mate was a great man in the estimation of all who knew
him, and of a good many who did not know him. Ruling his crew with a rod
of iron, and accustomed to be obeyed with considerable and commendable
promptness, he adopted a tone of voice in general conversation
considerably louder than the average, and every one acquired a habit of
making way for him.

The levee in a river town, before the railroads came snorting and
puffing across country and interfering with the monopoly so long enjoyed
by the steamboat, was a scene of continuous turmoil and activity.