rge American towns, is one of the
prettiest spots in the neighbourhood; but the Rapids are not only
ornamental, they are eminently useful. They afford a water-power to
several mills, one of which, the Gallego Flour-Mill, is a splendid
establishment, six stories high, nearly one hundred feet square, and
capable of sending out daily 1200 barrels of flour. The flour is of very
superior quality, the brand fetching a higher price than that of most
others in the country. There are also rolling-mills, cotton and tobacco
factories; the latter of course in great quantities, as tobacco is one
of the chief products of the state, and rapidly increasing. The produce
entered in Richmond, which in 1851 was under 16,000 hogsheads, in 1852
amounted to more than 24,000, and is now very probably above 30,000.
Virginia has the honour of being the first State that raised cotton, the
cultivation whereof was commenced in the year 1662.

Let us pass on to the hill at the eastern extremity of the city,
commanding a panoramic view of the river below the town, and all the
surrounding country. One spot arrests the attention, a spot closed with
the deepest and most romantic interest. A solitary tree, to which no
sacrilegious hand has yet dared to apply the axe, stands a few miles
down the river, on the same side as the town, and marks the site of the
lodge of the venerable old chieftain, Powhattan, when as yet the colony
was in its infancy, and when the Indian and the white man--the spoiler
and the spoiled--were looking at each other with mutual distrust, deep
fear on one side and dark foreboding on the other. The Indian is no
more; and nought remains as a memorial of this chief who once ruled this
fertile land with absolute sway, except this solitary tree;--and what an
episode in the history of colonization does that tree recal! Who can
forget that, when despair was the Colonists' daily bread, when nought
but the energy and genius of Smith--a man of very ordinary name, but of
no ordinary character--kept hope flickering in its socket, an attack of
Indians made him a prisoner, and left them hopeless. Then, how romantic
the tale of his captivity! He betrayed no fear, but retained perfect
self-possession; and remembering how easy their superstitious minds
could be worked upon, he drew forth, and with great solemnity commenced
looking steadily at his pocket-compass, and thence to heaven,
alternating between the two, until he impressed them with a feelin