Of all the many rich and racy things the writer has run across in his explorations in the literature of American cities, the richest and raciest is a book called St. Louis:  The Future Great City of the World, by L.U.  Reavis.  The very title-page gives an inkling of the nature of the contents by its motto, savoring somewhat of cant:  “Henceforth St. Louis must be viewed in the light of the future—­her mightiness in the empire of the world—­her sway in the rule of states and nations.”  This book, strangely enough, was “published by order of the St Louis County Court,” in 1870, on the petition of forty-five of the leading citizens and firms of the city, who were represented before the court by a committee headed by Captain James B. Eads, the renowned engineer, and containing one captain, five honorables, and two esquires.  The first edition consisted of one hundred and six pages, which were as vainglorious and boastful, as crowded with laudatory adjectives, glowing periods, and bombastic prophecies, as ever one hundred and six published pages were.

However, it evidently suited the St. Louis palate, for a second edition bears date of the same year, and in 1871 a third appeared in a considerably enlarged form.  This last one is the most interesting, for it contains a preface and a finis which for pure, undiluted presumption have never been excelled.  The former is entitled “Explanatory,” and is worth quoting entire:  “A presentation of Causes in Nature and Civilization which, in their reciprocal action tend to fix the position of the FUTURE GREAT CITY OF THE WORLD in the central plain of North America, showing that the centre of the world’s commerce and civilization will, in less than one hundred years, be organized and represented in the Mississippi Valley, and by St. Louis, occupying as she does the most favored position on the continent and the Great River; also a complete representation of the great railway system of St. Louis, showing that in less than ten years she will be the greatest railway centre in the world.”  Even the most arrogant citizen of St. Louis would hardly have the boldness to maintain that ten years after this prophecy was made, in 1881, St. Louis was “the greatest railway centre in the world,” or even that she was one of the greatest.  As to the one-hundred years prophecy nothing can as yet be affirmed, for it has eighty-seven years more to run, but if the last thirteen can be taken as a criterion, St. Louis has a big contract on her hands.

The last page is the most curious in the book, and in its way is certainly unique.  It is called “A Closing Word,” and, being printed in italics, has an air of emphasis and force peculiarly appropriate.  The author begins:  “Thus have I written a new record—­a new prophecy of a city central to a continent of resources;” and so he goes on for half a page of ridiculous bombast until he finishes the climax of epithets by calling this “the Apocalyptic City—­