Twenty-nine omnibus routes (utilizing 275 four- and six-horse coaches) radiated from the Merchants’ Exchange and Post Office Building at Walnut, Dock, and Third streets, near the Camden and Amboy ferry slip (“Omnibus Travel,” Philadelphia Public Ledger, 17 July 54, 2). This is a link to a letter SLC to Orion and Henry Clemens, 26–28 Oct 1853 that describes a tour Sam took of Philadelphia: "SLC to Orion and Henry Clemens, 26–28 Oct 1853, Philadelphia, Pa. (UCCL 00002)." In Mark Twain’s Letters, 1853–1866.
Excerpt from Letter To Orion and Henry Clemens 26–?28 October 1853 • Philadelphia, Pa.
The Exchange is where the different omnibus lines have their starting or stopping place. That is it is the head-quarters; and from this they radiate to the different parts. of the city. Well, as I was going to say, I went to the Exchange, yesterday, and deposited myself in a Fairmount stage, paid my sixpence, or “fip,” as these heathen call it, and started. We rolled along till we began to get towards the out-skirts of the city, where the prettiest part of a large city always is. We passed a large house, which looked like a public building. It was built entirely of great blocks of red granite. The pillars in front were all finished but one. These pillars were beautiful ornamented fluted columns, considerably larger than a hogshead at the base, and about as high as Caplinger’s second story front windows. No marble pillar is as pretty as these sombre red granite ones; and then to see some of them finished and standing, and then the huge blocks lying about of which the other was to be built, it looks so massy; and carries one in imagination, to the ruined piles of ancient Babylon. I despise the infernal bogus brick columns, plastered over with mortar. Marble is the cheapest building stone about Phila. This marble is the most beautiful I ever saw. It takes a very high polish. Some of it is as black as Egypt, with thin streaks of white running through it, and some is a beautiful snowy white; while the most of it is magnificent black, clouded with white.
But I must go on with my trip. We soon passed long rows of houses, (private dwellings) all the work about the doors, stoop, &c., of which, was composed of this pretty marble, glittering in the sun, lie like glass. We arrived at Fairmount,—got out of the stage, and prepared to look around. The hill, (Fairmount) is very high, and on top of it is the great reservoir. After leaving the stage, I passed up the road, till I came to the wire bridge which stretches across the Schuylkill [(or Delaware, darned if I know which!—the former, I believe,—but you know, for you are a better scholar than I am). This is the first bridge of the kind I ever saw. Here I saw, a little above, the fine dam, which holds back the water for the use of the Water Works. It forms quite a nice water-fall. Seeing a park at the foot of the hill, I entered—and found it one of the nicest little places about. Fat marble Cupids, in big marble vases, squirted water every upward incessantly. Here stands in a kind of mausoleum, (is that proper?) a well executed piece of sculpture, with the inscription—“Erected by the City Council of Philadelphia, to the memory of Peter Graff, the founder and inventor of the Fairmount Water Works.” The bust looks toward the dam. It is all of the purest white marble. I passed along the pavement by the pump-house (I don’t know what else to call it) and seeing a door left open by somebody, I went in. I saw immense water-wheels, &c., but if you will get a back-number of the Lady’s Book, you will find a better description of the Works, than I can give you. I passed on further, and saw small steamboats, with their signs up—“For Wissahickon and Manayunk—25 cts.” Geo. Lippard, in his “Legends of Washington and his Generals,” has rendered the Wissahickon sacred in my eyes, and I shall make that trip,—as well as one to Germantown, soon.
But to proceed, again. Here was a long flight of stairs, leading to the summit of the hill. I went up—of course. But I forgot to say, that at the foot of this hill a pretty white marble Naiad stands on a projecting rock, and this, I must say is the prettiest fountain I have seen lately. A nice half-inch jet of water is thrown straight up ten or twelve feet, and descends in a shower, all over the fair water spirit. Fountains also gush out of the rock at her feet, in every direction. Well, arrived at the top of the hill, I see nothing but a respectable-sized lake, which [looks] rather out of place in its elevated situattion. I can’t say I saw nothing else, either:—for here I had a magnificent view of the city. Tired of this, I passed up Coates streets, 5 or six squares from the hill, and came to the immense (distributin) branch of the Works. It is built of a kind of dirty yellow stone, and in the style of an ancient feudal Castle. Passing on, I took a squint at the “House of Refuge,” (of which we used to read at Sunday School),—then I took a look at the marble Girard College, with its long rows of marble pillars—then jumped into a 'bus, and posted back to the Exchange.