The Reade Ferris legend, precluding any necessity of a story from us, brings good Elizabeth Shipley into Wilmington, which was then a garden and is now a mart, from her former home at Ridley, which was then a forest-clearing and is now a garden, being in truth the site of Ridley Park, the landscape-city which was described in this Magazine last September.  The legend gives all proper emphasis to the location, endowing it with beauty enough to tempt a celestial guide from heaven for the meek Quakeress’s benefit, and with practical advantages enough to tempt the worldly-minded husband.  To get a high idea of the natural attractions of Wilmington, therefore, read The Wandering Heir, thus advertised gratuitously.  Wilmington lies, says the author of Peg Woffington, “between the finger and thumb of two rivers,” and also upon the broad palm of the Delaware.  The two minor streams which embrace it are entirely different in character:  one is a picturesque torrent, named by the Dutch Brand-wijn (Brandywine), from the circumstance of a ship loaded with brandy having foundered at its mouth; the other, serene and navigable, is the Christine, named by the Swedes from Christina, their favorite princess.  Hereabouts George Fox, the first Quaker, built a fire in 1672 to dry his immortal leather breeches.  “We came to Christian River,” he says, “where we swam over our horses.”  The stream in that day, before the destruction of inland forests, had about six times its present volume, but it is still good for vessels of considerable burden.  The thriving settlers made it carry down the harvests of the interior, and then made the Brandywine grind them.  The focus of the rivers became a rich milling centre, and was also a post for whaling-ships.  The Otaheitan prince stepped from the deck of the whaler to court with gifts of shells the demure Quaker maidens of Wilmington, and Kanaka sailors were almost as familiar on its wharves as Indian chiefs.  About the time of the Revolution the town became a well-known station for the export of quercitron bark, and all the while the clacking mills were busy along the uneasy rapids of the Brandywine.

[Illustration:  Christine creek with the diamond state works.]

[Illustration:  Plate-iron rolling-mills—­P. 379.]

Shall we take a glance at a historic mill?  The best location for such a structure where water-power just met tide-water, and shallops drawing eight feet could load up at the shore, was selected in 1762 for mill-buildings which still stand, and which were for many years the most famous in the country, regulating the price of grain for the United States.  The business soon overflowed, and necessitated the building, in 1770, of the structures represented in the engraving on page 371, the whole group, on the two sides of the stream, being under one ownership, and known as “Lea’s Brandywine Mills.”  Hither