Shortly after my arrival in Chicago, I went out for a wander in the streets. I was accompanied by the Hotel "tout" who soon gave me his history. He had been a captain in the English army, had run through all his money, and come here to make more. He had many reminiscences to relate of his huntings in Leicestershire, of his life in the army, of his foolish gamblings, of his ups and downs in America, and his present prospects. Nothing daunted by his mishaps, he was still full of hope. He was an agent for railways, agent for a billiard-table manufacturer and for several patents, and believed he should soon be a rich man again. But no one, he said, had any chance in Chicago, unless he was prepared to work, and to work hard. "A man," he observed, "must have his eyes peeled to make money; as for the lazy man, he hasn't the ghost of a chance here."
My guide took me along the principal streets, which were full of traffic and bustle, the men evidently intent upon business, pushing on, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. The streets are mostly stone-paved, and, in spite of the heavy snow which has fallen, they are clean and well kept. We passed the City Hall, the Chamber of Commerce, and the Post Office—all fine buildings. In the principal streets, the houses arefive stories high, with handsome marble fronts. The office of the 'Chicago Tribune,' situated at the corner of one of the chief thoroughfares, is a splendid pile with a spacious corner entrance. The Potter Palmer block, chiefly occupied as a gigantic draper's shop—here called a Dry Goods' Store—is an immense pile of buildings, with massive marble front handsomely carved. But the building which promises shortly to overtop all others in Chicago, is the Pacific Hotel, now in course of erection,—an enormous structure, covering an acre and a half of ground, with a frontage of 325 feet, and a height of 104 feet. It is expected to be the largest and finest building in the city, until something else is projected to surpass and excel it.
In my progress through the streets I came upon two huge steam cranes at work, hoisting up stuff from a great depth below. I was told that this was the second tunnel in course of construction underneath the bed of the river to enable the traffic to pass across without the necessity for bridges. The stream over the tunnel was busy with shipping. In one street I passed a huge pile of dead pigs in front of a sausage shop. They go in pigs and come out sausages. Pork is one of the great staples of the place; the number of pigs slaughtered in Chicago being something enormous. The pig-butcheries and pork stores are among the largest buildings in the city. My guide assures me that at least a pig a second is killed and dressed in Chicago all the year through. Another street wasoccupied by large stores of grain, fruit, and produce of all kinds. The pathways were filled with farmers and grain brokers, settling bargains and doing business. And yet it was not market day, when the streets are far more crowded and full of bustle.
Some idea of the enormous amount of business in grain done in Chicago may be formed from the fact that in one year, 1868, sixty-eight million bushels of grain were shipped from its wharves. It is the centre of the grain trade of the States; lines of railway concentre upon it from all parts of the interior; and, by means of shipping, the produce is exported to the Eastern States, to Great Britain, or to any other part of the world where it is needed.
The street cars go jingling along with their heavy loads of passengers. A continual stream of people keeps coming and going. There are many young ladies afoot, doing their shopping; enveloped in furs, and some with white scarfs—or "clouds" as they are called—round their heads. Loud advertisements, of all colours, shapes, and sizes, abound on every side. Pea-nut sellers at their stands on the pavement invite the passers-by to purchase, announcing that they roast fresh every half-hour. What amused me, in one of the by-streets from which the frozen snow had not been removed, was seeing a number of boys skating along at full speed.
Fronting the lake is the fashionable avenue of the city. Here, nice detached houses range along the broad road for miles. Trees shade the carriage-way,which in summer must look beautiful. Now all is covered with hard-frozen snow, over which the sleigh-bells sound merrily as the teams come dashing along. Here comes a little cutter with a pretty black pony, which trots saucily past, and is followed by a grand double-seated sleigh drawn by three splendid greys. Other sleighs, built for lightness and speed, are drawn by fast-trotting horses, in which the Americans take so much delight. The object of most of the young men who are out sleighing seems to be to pass the sleigh in front of them, so that some very smart racing is usually to be seen along the Avenue drive.
As might be expected from the extent and wealth of its population, Chicago is well supplied with places of amusement. I observe that Christine Nilsson is here at present, and she is an immense favourite. There are also many handsome stone churches in the city, which add much to the fine appearance of the place. But I had neither time to visit the theatres nor the churches, as my time in Chicago was already up, and I, accordingly, made arrangements for pursuing my journey eastward.[17]
FOOTNOTES:[17]It will be observed that the above summary description applies to Chicago as it was seen by the writer in February last. While these sheets are passing through the press, the appalling intelligence has arrived from America that the magnificent city has been almost entirely destroyed by fire!
[17]It will be observed that the above summary description applies to Chicago as it was seen by the writer in February last. While these sheets are passing through the press, the appalling intelligence has arrived from America that the magnificent city has been almost entirely destroyed by fire!
[17]It will be observed that the above summary description applies to Chicago as it was seen by the writer in February last. While these sheets are passing through the press, the appalling intelligence has arrived from America that the magnificent city has been almost entirely destroyed by fire!
Niagara Falls—American Side.Niagara Falls—American Side.
Leave Chicago—The Ice Harvest—Michigan City—The Forest—A Railway Smashed—Kalamazoo—Detroit—Crossing into Canada—American Manners—Roebling's Suspension Bridge—Niagara Falls in Winter—Goat Island—The American Fall—The Great Horse-shoe Fall—The Rapids from the Lovers' Seat—American Cousins—Rochester—New York—A Catastrophe—Return Home.
For some distance out of Chicago, the railway runs alongside the fine avenue fronting Lake Michigan. We pass a long succession of villas amidst their gardens and shrubberies, now white with snow and frost. Then we cross an inlet on a timber viaduct laid on piles driven into the bed of the lake. The ice at some parts is thrown up irregularly in waves, and presents astrange aspect. It looks as if it had been frozen solid in one moment at a time when the wind was blowing pretty hard.
At another part, where the ice is smoother, men were getting in the ice harvest between us and the shore. The snow is first cleared from the surface by means of a snow plane. Then the plough, drawn by a horse, with a man guiding the sharp steel cutter, makes a deep groove into the ice. These grooves are again crossed by others at right angles, until the whole of the surface intended to be gathered in is divided into sections of about four feet square. When that is done, several of the first blocks taken out are detached by means of hand-saws; after which the remainder are easily broken off with crow-bars. The blocks are then stored in the large ice-houses on shore, several of which are so large as to be each capable of holding some 20,000 tons of ice.
The consumption of ice in the States is enormous. Every one takes ice in their water, in winter as well as in summer. Even the commonest sort of people consume it largely; and they send round to the store for ten cents' worth of ice, just as our people send round to the nearest public for six penny worth of beer. I have heard Americans who have been in London complain of the scarcity of ice with us, and the parsimonious way in which it is used. But then we have not the enormous natural stores of ice close to our doors, as they have at Chicago and many other of the large American towns.
Meanwhile we have skirted the shores of the lake, and shot into the country, the snow lying deep in the fields, in some places quite covering the tops of the fences. After passing through a rather thickly-wooded country, we came to Michigan city, which stands close to the lake, with a river flowing past it, on which large barges piled high with timber are now completely frozen up. What a pretty place this Michigan must be in summer time, when the trees which line the streets, and all the shady gardens about it, are clad in green. Even now the town has a brisk, cheerful look. The sleighs are running merrily over the snow, and the omnibuses glide smoothly along the streets on their "runners."
Taking one last look of the great inland sea, we struck across the broad peninsula formed by Lake Michigan on one side and Lake Huron on the other, to the town of Detroit. The country was very thickly wooded in some places,—apparently the remains of the old primeval forest. Yet there were towns and villages at frequent intervals along the route. The deer have not yet been extirpated, for often and again I saw their tracks in the snow along the banks of the railway.
At one part of the road the speed of the train slackened, and the engine moved along slowly, whistling as it went. What was wrong? I got out on to the platform to see. We soon came up to a smashed train; frames of cars, wrecks of cases, wheels, axles, anddébris, lying promiscuously tumbled together. I asked the conductor what had happened? He answered quitecoolly, "Guess the express ran into the goods train!" It looked very much like it!
In the course of the day we passed several small manufacturing towns. It seemed so odd, when we appeared as if travelling through the back woods, to see above the trees, not far off, a tall red chimney, where not long before we had passed the track of the wild deer. There was one very large manufactory—so large that it had a special branch to itself connecting it with the main track—at a place called Kalamazoo, reminding one of Red Indians and war trails over this ground not so very long ago. The town of Kalamazoo itself is a large and busy place: who knows but that it may contain the embryo of some future Leeds or Manchester?
It was dark when the train reached Detroit, where we had to cross the river which runs between Lake St. Clair and Lake Erie by ferry-boat into Canada. The street being dark, I missed my way, and at last found myself on the edge of the water when I least expected it. I got on board just as the last bell was sounding before the boat put off from the quay. I then had my baggage checked on to Niagara, a custom-house officer on board marking all the pieces intended only to pass through Canada, thereby avoiding examination. All the arrangements of the American railways with respect to luggage seem to me excellent, and calculated greatly to promote the convenience of the travelling public.
We were not more than a quarter of an hour onboard the ferry-boat, during which I found time to lay in a good supper in the splendid saloon occupying the upper story of the vessel. Arrived at the Canadian side, there was a general rush to the train; and the carriages were soon filled. There were great complaints amongst some of the passengers that the Pullman's cars were all full, and that no beds were to be had; there being usually a considerable run upon these convenient berths, especially in the depth of winter.
My next neighbour during the night was a very pleasant gentleman—an American. I must here confess to the agreeable disappointment I have experienced with respect to the Americans I have hitherto come in contact with. I have as yet met with no specimens of the typical Yankee depicted by satirists and novelists. In my innocence I expected to be asked in the cars such questions as "I guess you're a Britisher, Sir?" "Where do you come from, Stranger?" "Where are you going to, Sir?" "What are you going to do when you get there?" and such like. It is true that at San Francisco I encountered a few of such questions, but the persons who put them were for the most part only hotel touters. Among the Americans of about my own condition with whom I travelled, I met with nothing but politeness and civility. I will go further, and say that the generality of Americans are more ready to volunteer a kindness than is usual in England. They are always ready to answer a question, to offer a paper, to share a rug, or perhapstender a cigar. They are generally easy in manner, yet unobtrusive. I will also add, that so far as my experience goes, the average intelligence of young men in America is considerably higher than it is in England. They are better educated and better informed; and I met few or none who were not able to enter into any topic of general conversation, and pursue it pleasantly.
I saw but little of Canada, for I passed through what is called the "London district" of it in the night. It was about four in the morning when the train reached the suspension bridge which crosses from Canada into the States, about a mile and a half below the Falls of Niagara. We were soon upon the bridge,—a light, airy-looking structure, made principally of strong wire,—and I was out upon the carriage platform, looking down into the gorge below. It was bright moonlight, so that I could see well about me. There were the snow-covered cliffs on either side, and the wide rift between them two hundred and fifty feet deep, in the bottom of which ran the river at a speed of about thirty miles an hour. It almost made the head dizzy to look down. But we were soon across the bridge, and on solid land again. We were already within hearing of the great roar of the Falls, not unlike the sound of an express train coming along the track a little distance of. Shortly after, we reached our terminus and its adjoining hotel, in which for a time I forgot the Falls and everything else in a sound sleep.
The first thing that struck me on wakening was the loud continuous roar near at hand. I was soon up and out, and on my way to the Falls, seated in a grand sleigh drawn by a pair of fine black horses. Remember it was the dead of winter, the fifteenth of February, not by any means the time of the year for going about sight-seeing; and yet I fancy the sight of Niagara in mid-winter must be quite as astonishing, and perhaps even more picturesque, than at any other season.
Over the crisp snow, and through the clean little town, the sleigh went flying, the roar of the water growing louder as we neared the Falls. Soon we are at the gates of a bridge, where a toll is charged for admission to the island from which the great Falls are best seen. Crossing the bridge, we reach the small island, on which a large paper mill has been erected; and I am pointed to a rock to which last winter a poor fellow—beyond the reach of safety, though in sight—clung for hours, until, unable to hold on any longer, he was finally swept away down the torrent.
We cross another small bridge, and are on the celebrated Goat Island, which divides the great Canadian from the smaller American fall. My driver first took me to a point on the American side of this island, from which a fine view is to be obtained. The sight is certainly most wonderful. I walked down a steep pathway slippery with ice, with steps cut here and there in the rock, and suddenly found myself on the brink of the precipice. Close to my left, the water waspouring down into a chasm a hundred and sixty feet below, disappearing in a great blue cavern of ice that seemed to swallow it up. By the continual freezing of the spray, this great ice-cave reaches higher and higher during winter time. Immense icicles, some fifty feet long, hang down the sides of the rock immediately over the precipice. The trees on the island above were bent down with the weight of the frozen spray, which hung in masses from their branches. The blending of the ice and water far beneath my feet was a remarkable sight. As the spray and mist from time to time cleared off, I looked deep down into the dark icy abyss, in which the water roared, and foamed, and frothed, and boiled again.
Then I went to the other side of the island, quite fairy-like as it glistened in the sunlight, gemmed with ice-drops, and clad in its garment of white. And there I saw that astounding sight, the great Horse-shoe Fall, seven hundred feet across, over which the enormous mass of water pours with tremendous force. As the water rolled over the cliff, it seemed to hang like a green curtain in front of it, until it reached half-way down; then gradually breaking, white streaks appeared in it, broadening as they descended, until at length the mighty mass sprouted in foam, and fell roaring into the terrific gulf some hundred and fifty feet below. A great ice bridge stretched across the river beyond the boiling water at the bottom of the Fall, rough and uneven like some of the Swiss glaciers. Clouds of spray flew about, seemingly like smoke or steam.Words fail to describe a scene of such overpowering grandeur as this.
I was next driven along Goat Island to a small suspension bridge, some distance above the Falls, where I crossed over to one of the three Sister Islands—small bits of land jutting right out into the middle of the rapids. The water passes between each of these islands. I went out to the extreme point of the furthest. The sight here is perhaps second only to the great Fall itself. The river, about a mile and a quarter wide, rushes down the heavy descent, contracting as it goes, before leaping the precipice below. The water was tossing and foaming like an angry sea, reminding me of the ocean when the waves are running high and curling their white crests after a storm.
These rapids had far more fascination for me than the Falls themselves. I could sit and watch for hours the water rushing past; and it was long before I could leave them, though my feet were in deep snow. It must be very fine to sit out at that extreme point in summer time, shaded by the rich foliage of the trees, and dream away the hours. The seat is known as the Lovers' seat, but lovers would need to have strong lungs to shout their whispers to each other there, if they wished them to be heard.
At length I turned my back upon the foaming torrent, and resumed the road to my hotel. On my way back, I stopped at the genuine Niagara curiosity-shop, where photographs, Indian bead and featherwork, and articles manufactured out of the "real Niagara spar," are sold. Only the photographs are really genuine and good. The bead-work is a manufacture, and probably never passed through Indian hands; while the Niagara spar is imported from Matlock, much of it doubtless returning to England in the form of curious specimens of workmanship from the Great Falls.
I have very little more to add relating to my journey through the States. I was not making a tour, but passing through America at railway speed on my way home to England; and I have merely described, in the most rapid and cursory way, the things that struck me along my route. All that remained for me to do between Niagara and New York, was to call at Rochester, and pay an unheralded visit to my American cousins there. What English family has not got relations in the States? I find that I have them living in Rochester, Boston, and St. Louis. It is the same blood, after all, in both countries—in Old and New England.
After travelling through the well-cultivated, well-peopled country that extends eastward from Niagara to Rochester, I arrived at my destination about four in the afternoon, and immediately went in search of my American cousins. I was conscious of being a rather untidy sight to look at, after my long railway journey of nearly three thousand miles, and did not know what, in my rough travelling guise, my reception might be. But any misgivings on that point weresoon set at rest by the cordiality of my reception. I was at once made one of the family, and treated as such. I enjoyed with my new-found relatives four delightful days of recruiting rest and friendly intercourse. To use the common American phrase, I had a "real good time."
The town of Rochester is much bigger than the English city of the same name. It is a place of considerable trade and importance, with a population of about 60,000. Some of the commercial buildings are very fine; and I was told of one place, that it was "the finest fire-proof establishment in the world." Possibly the American world was meant, and that is by no means a small one. Rochester is especially famous for its nurseries, where trees of all kinds are reared and sent far and near; its principal nursery firms being known all over Europe.
There are some fine waterfalls near Rochester—the falls of the Genesee. Had I not seen Niagara, I should have doubtless wondered at their beauty. Their height is as great, but the quantity of water is wanting. After Niagara, all other falls must seem comparatively tame.
My short stay in Rochester was made most pleasant. I felt completely at home and at my ease in the American household I had so suddenly entered. I also accompanied my cousins to two evening entertainments, one a fancy dress ball, and the other asoirée dansante, where I made the passing acquaintance of some very agreeable American ladies and gentlemen. I wasreally sorry to leave Rochester; and as the carriage drove me along the pretty avenue to the station, I felt as if I were just leaving a newly-found home.
I travelled from Rochester to New York during the night, passing several large towns, and at some places iron-furnaces at work, reminding one of the "Black country" in England by night. The noble Hudson was hard bound in ice as we passed along its banks, so that I missed the beautiful sight that it presents in summer time. But it is unnecessary for me to dwell either upon the Hudson or the city of New York, about which most people are in these days well read up. As for New York, I cannot say that I was particularly struck by it, except by its situation, which is superb, and by its magnitude, which is immense. It seemed to me only a greater Manchester, with larger signboards, a clearer atmosphere, and a magnificent river front. It contains no great buildings of a metropolitan character, unless amongst such buildings are to be included hotels, newspaper offices, and dry goods stores, some of which are really enormous piles. Generally speaking, New York may be described as a city consisting of comparatively insignificant parts greatly exaggerated, and almost infinitely multiplied. It may be want of taste; but on the whole, I was better pleased with Chicago. The season of my visit was doubtless unpropitious. Who could admire the beauties of the noble Central Park in the dead of winter? Perhaps, too, I was not in a good humour to judge of New York, as it was there that I met withmy first and only misfortune during my two years' absence from home. For there I was robbed.
I had been strongly urged by my friends at Rochester to go to Booth's Theatre to see Mr. Booth play in 'Richelieu,' as a thing not to be seen in the same perfection anywhere else. I went accordingly, enjoyed Booth's admirable acting, and returned to my hotel. When I reached there, on feeling my pocket, lo! my purse was gone! I had been relieved of it either in the press at the theatre exit, or in entering or leaving the tramway car on my return.
I had my ticket for Liverpool safe in my waistcoat pocket; but there was my hotel bill to pay, and several necessaries to purchase for use during the voyage home. What was I to do? I knew nobody in New York. It was too far from home to obtain a remittance from thence, and I was anxious to leave without further delay. I bethought me of the kind friends I had left at Rochester, acquainted them with my misfortune, and asked for a temporary loan of twenty dollars. By return post an order arrived for a hundred. "A friend in need is a friend indeed."
The same post brought two letters from my Rochester friends, in one of which my correspondent said that my misfortune was one that few escaped in New York. He himself had been robbed of his purse in a Broadway stage; his father had been robbed of a pocket-book containing money; and his father-in-law of a gold watch. My other kind correspondent, who enclosed me his cheque, said, by way of caution, "Youmust bear in mind that the principal streets of New York are full of pickpockets and desperadoes. They will recognize you as a stranger, so you must be wary. You may be 'spotted' as you go into or come out of the banking office. It often happens that a man is robbed in Wall Street in open day,—is knocked down and his money 'grabbed' before his eyes. So be very careful and trust nobody. Go alone to the banking office, or get a trusty servant from the house to go with you. But let no outsider see cheque or money."
Of course I took very good care not to be robbed in New York a second time, and I got away from it in safety next morning by the 'City of Brooklyn,' taking with me the above very disagreeable reminiscence of my New York experience. It is not necessary to describe the voyage home,—the passage from New York to Liverpool being now as familiar an event as the journey from London to York. At Queenstown I telegraphed my arrival to friends at home, and by the time the ship entered the Mersey there were those waiting at the landing-place to give me a cordial welcome back. I ran up to town by the evening train, and was again at home. Thus I completed my Voyage Round the World, in the course of which I have gained health, knowledge, and experience, and seen and learnt many things which will probably furnish me with matter for thought in all my future life.