Montezuma Hotel,
Montezuma, New York,
June Fifth.
The Auburn photographers whom I saw yesterday met me as I was riding out of Jordan, and proposed photographing myself andPaul. Some time was passed and several ruses resorted to in attempting to quiet the restless animal, but he skilfully avoided the camera.
At last some men who happened to be near offered their assistance, and attempted to attract the attention of the horse from a distance, by jumping up and down in a neighboring field.Paulthrew his head forward, quietly and curiously watching their manœuvers. He was evidently amused, but there was no spirit tothe picture. Unfortunately the "spirited" part of the scene was out of range.
This delay for vanity's sake prevented us from getting farther than Weedsport by noon, where a brief halt was made for dinner. I was met here by W. H. Ransom and the proprietor of the Howard House of Port Byron, who came over to Weedsport and escorted me to their village, where I had tea and was very courteously entertained for a few hours. On leaving Port Byron, these gentlemen rode forward with me towards Montezuma Swamp, which lies between the two towns. Here we parted company, there being no reason why they should "run the gauntlet" with me. I had heard wonderful tales of the dreaded monsters of this swamp, who were reputed to be the very worst mosquitoes on record, not excepting their famous kinsmen of the Hackensack Flats, New Jersey.
Unable to bear patiently the torture of my assailants who were swarming around me by thousands, I put spurs toPaul, and went through at a gallop; but notwithstanding this attempt to put the enemy to rout, superior numbers gave them the advantage and their victim came out covered with scars.
When Montezuma was reached we were glad to rest, for our late adventure had quite exhausted both horse and rider.
AN OLD LANDMARK.AN OLD LANDMARK.
Newark House,
Newark, New York,
June Sixth.
The journey along the line of the New York Centralfrom Montezuma to Newark, was an exciting one to me andPaul. I had long since learned that whenever the route brought us in close proximity with the railroad, the quiet pursuit of our way was often varied by exciting moments, owing toPaul'ssuspicion of the "iron horse." The climax of these escapades was reached this morning, whenPaul, becoming frightened by an approaching train repeated the experience of three days ago by plunging into a slough, about two miles from Newark, and completely covering himself and rider with mud. When I had recovered sufficiently to realize the situation, my thoughts were not as amiable, I fear, as those of Bunyan's good Christian, tried in like manner. The "slough of despond" was so very literal in this case.
I had made every effort to control the excited animal, but found the attempt useless; and I verily believe if he were between the infernal regions and a coming train, he would choose the former at a bound. It was rather trying to appear before people of the town in such a lamentable condition, to say nothing of the discomforts arising from damp clothing; but there was no alternative, so I followed my course; the unfortunate victim of circumstances.
Fairport House,
Fairport, New York,
June Seventh.
Resumed march at eight o'clock in the morning, but the weather was so oppressively warm and sultry, that I was obliged to wait over from noon until six o'clock.Riding in the cool of the day was much more agreeable, yet, notwithstanding the physical comfort, I must confess that the lonely and unknown road gave rather a gloomy forecast to my thoughts. Beside this, I found some difficulty in obtaining necessary directions, and lost the chief charm of the journey—a view of the beautiful country through which I was passing.
It had not been my intention to do any travelling after sundown unless the heat made it absolutely necessary, but in this instance I felt justified in changing the original plan. Moving along through the unfamiliar scenes, I missed the pleasant coloring of woods and fields under the broad light of day, the noisy hum the sunshine calls forth, and the sound of the birds, always the sweetest music to me. Instead of these there was the mystical silence of night, broken only by the clatter ofPaul'shoofs over the dusty road. Four hours' steady travel brought us in sight of the straggling lights of the little post-village of Fairport, where we stopped for the night. Found several Rochester papers awaiting me here, which contained pleasant reference to my proposed lecture at Corinthian Hall.
Anticipating rain during the forenoon and fearing that my journey might be interrupted in consequence, I started at an early hour on the morning of June eighth from Fairport, and riding at a brisk pace came into Rochester at eleven o'clock.
Just before reaching the city, a halt was made at a little hamlet, two or three miles out, for the purpose of treatingPaul'sback. Heretofore the necessity of meeting my lecture appointments along the route had given me no opportunity to attend to the painful bruise, although I had been studying the various modes of treatment recommended by veterinary surgeons from the time I left Boston until now. The peculiar nature of my journey gave me an excellent opportunity to follow this especial course, and I felt confident of my ability to do all that was possible for my faithful horse, yet at every stopping-place some kindly disposed admirer of the horse had some favorite prescription which he had found a never-failing cure for the particular affliction that daily confronted me. The enterprising little hamlet in question hadits famed savant, who thought it would be highly imprudent of me to proceed farther without his advice—and a bottle of his "Seven-Sealed Wonder."
Anxious to make Rochester at the earliest moment possible, I had no time to discuss the merits of this great elixir, so, noting the price on the face of the bottle, I handed this modest disciple of Æsculapius the amount due, although he generously protested, and congratulating myself upon being the most highly favored traveller between Boston and San Francisco, rode away.
On a hill just beyond the village and well out of sight, I came upon an old barn standing to the left of the road, on whose front I noticed a huge door with a knothole in the centre. Now was my opportunity for unsealing the "Wonder." In an instant I broughtPaulto a standstill and rising in the saddle, tried my luck. The "Wonder" fell short of the mark, but it met a resistance from the old door which effectually tested its powers, and in my humble opinion placed the good doctor high up in his profession. This momentary diversion over, I again resumed the march, vowing that this would be my last experiment with "sealed wonders" and that hereafter I would confine my treatment to battlingPaul'sback with warm water and castile soap, whose virtue I had learned in the cavalry service during the war.
Found that the Rochester papers had been discussing my military record before my arrival, and that theExpressandSunday Morning Timeshad upheld my cause against theUnion, which had ventured some falsehoods on the ground that my "youthful appearance" belied my experience as a soldier. With thispleasant criticism came another greeting from the city press. It had been announced that I would probably arrive at the Osburn House at four in the afternoon, hence it was not strange that my sudden appearance at an earlier hour caused some surprise and led to the impression that I had come forward by rail, and that my horseback journey was possibly not an entirely genuine affair. I may add that it had not occurred to me that my trip across country was of sufficient importance to warrant any criticism upon my methods so long as I met my lecture appointments promptly. The sharp comment had no more serious result than that of increasing the lecture receipts in the cities which followed.
My tenth lecture was delivered in Corinthian Hall, at the usual hour in the evening, the introduction being made by Colonel J. A. Reynolds.
Next day, June ninth, gave me an opportunity to look up the familiar places and to note the changes that had occurred since my last visit to the city. The cleanliness and beauty of the streets, now in their summer glory of tree and flower, made such a tour of inspection anything but unpleasant.
East avenue, where the "flour and coal kings" are at home, is an attractive place in which to see individual taste carried out in architecture and horticulture. Down town, where the "kings" are at work, there is a brisk activity which pervades everything, like an unending accompaniment to the Falls, whose sounds always mingle with those of the busy life around them. Perhaps it was this continual encouragement from the river, offered to her early pioneers, that has given Rochester such a notable career and made herthe metropolis of the Genesee Valley: for with that first mill-wheel set into the stream by old "Indian Allen," the faithful waters have kept up a continual flow of good fortune.
Her characteristic enterprise, milling, begun by this same Allen, has been an unfailing source of wealth; the golden grain with almost magic transformation filling the coffers of her merchants and giving her the security that a healthy financial condition brings. Besides this, she owes much to that liberal-minded gentleman, Colonel Nathaniel Rochester, who came with his family from Maryland when the settlement was in its infancy, and made his home in "the pleasant valley." It is amusing to fancy the unique procession, headed by the Colonel and his sons on horseback, that started out towards "the wild west" in the summer of 1802. There were carriages for the ladies and servants, and wagons for provisions and household goods, stretched out in formidable array: for railroads were out of the question then.
We hear that the travellers met with cordial hospitality at the villages and towns along their route, and that their arrival created quite a sensation. In fact it was an historical event. Two friends of the Rochesters, William Fitzhugh and Charles Carroll, cast in their fortunes with them, and in 1802 bought together the three hundred acres at the Upper Falls, which were laid out for a settlement ten years later. In those times the prestige of a name went far towards establishing a reputation, and the one chosen by the people of the settlement was afterward proudly placed upon the municipal banner. Soon after the adventof Colonel Rochester and his friends, the scheme for making a water communication between the Lakes and the Sea began to be eagerly discussed, and there were not a few energetic representatives from "Rochesterville" who lent their efforts towards the carrying out of the plan. When the canal was completed there was the wildest enthusiasm in Rochester, which would perhaps have a greater benefit than any other place along the route: for with her big grain and coal interests, her future prosperity seemed assured.
The natural course of events followed. Improvement and embellishment began on all sides. New buildings and enterprises started up on solid foundations, and provision was made for those who might "drop out of the ranks," in the selection of beautiful Mount Hope, one of the loveliest cemeteries in point of natural charm in this country. It lies on a wooded slope between the lake and the city, and its pathways, shadowed by the great trees from the "forest primeval," are the playgrounds for the wild little creatures who make their homes there unmolested.
Back again into the town where the sound of the Falls is heard, and one thinks of the odd touch a simple character has added to the traditions of the place, and whose name, to a stranger, is so often associated with that of Rochester. This quaint figure is none other than "Sam Patch, the jumper," who met his fate by leaping into the Genesee at the "Falls," and who left as a legacy the warning maxim, "Be careful, or, like Sam Patch, you may jump once too often." History has chronicled Sam's last speech, delivered from the platform, just before his fatal leap; which, as a sample of rustic oratory, is amusing.
He said: "Napoleon was a great man and a great general. He conquered armies, and he conquered nations, buthe couldn't jump the Genesee Falls. Wellington was a great man and a great soldier. He conquered armies, and he conquered nations, and he conquered Napoleon, buthe couldn't jump the Genesee Falls. That was left formeto do, and I can do it, and will."
Rochester, the capital of Monroe County, New York, was first settled in 1810, and incorporated as a city in 1834. It is situated on both sides of the Genesee River, seven miles from Lake Ontario, two hundred and fifty miles from Albany and sixty-nine from Buffalo by railway. An aqueduct of stone carries the Erie Canal across the river, the cost of which amounted to over half a million dollars. The city is well laid out with wide and handsome streets, lined with shade trees.
VIEW OF ROCHESTER.VIEW OF ROCHESTER.
Within the city limits the Genesee undergoes a sudden descent of two hundred and sixty-eight feet, falling in three separate cataracts within a distance of two miles. The roar of these falls is heard continually all over the city, but no one is inconvenienced by it in the slightest degree. The cataracts are believed to have formed, at one time, a single fall, but the different degrees of hardness of the rocks have caused an unequal retrograde movement of the falls, until they have assumed their present position. At the Upper Falls, the river is precipitated perpendicularly ninety-six feet. It then flows between nearly perpendicular walls of rock, for about a mile and a quarter to the Middle Falls, where it has another descent of twenty-five feet. One hundred rods below, at the LowerFalls, it again descends eighty-four feet, which brings the stream to the level of Lake Ontario, into which it enters.
The immense water-power thus afforded in the centre of one of the finest wheat-growing regions in the world, with the facilities of transportation afforded by the Erie Canal, Lake Ontario, and the several railways, have given a vast impulse to the prosperity of Rochester and it has, in consequence, become one of the most important manufacturing cities in the East. At the period of my visit, there were eighteen flour mills in operation, grinding annually 2,500,000 bushels of wheat. The manufacturing interests are immense—ready-made clothing being the most extensive, and boots and shoes ranking next. Other leading manufactures are those of iron bridges, India-rubber goods, carriages, furniture, optical instruments, steam engines, glassware and agricultural machinery. Of flourishing industries may be mentioned breweries, tobacco factories, blast furnaces and fruit canning.
The largest nurseries in America are found here. Thousands of acres within a short distance of the city are devoted to the cultivation of fruit trees, and millions of these trees are annually shipped to other States and foreign countries. Over $2,000,000 is the annual product of these prolific nurseries.
The city is fast becoming a great distributing centre for coal, which is conveyed in vessels to all points on the Great Lakes. Rochester, being the business centre of the fertile Genesee Valley, shows a steady growth in business and wealth. It has a magnificent system of water-works, constructed at a cost of $3,250,000, the water being supplied from two sources—one fromthe river, which is used for extinguishing fires and running light machinery; the other from Hemlock Lake, twenty-nine miles from the centre of the city, and four hundred feet above it. This water is sent through sixty miles of mains, the pressure being such as to throw from the hydrants a stream one hundred and thirty feet perpendicularly. No city is more perfectly protected from fire.
At the corner of Main and State streets are the Powers' Buildings, a peculiar block of stores, built of stone, glass and iron, seven stories high. In the upper halls is a fine collection of paintings. A tower surmounts the building, from which a fine view of the city and its surroundings is obtained. "The Arcade" is roofed with glass and numerous fine stores line its sides. Opposite stands the County Court House, a handsome building of gray limestone, with a tower one hundred and seventy-five feet high. The handsomest building in the city is, I think, the Rochester Savings Bank, corner of Main and Fitzhugh streets. The First Baptist, the First Presbyterian and the Catholic Cathedral of St. Patrick are the finest church edifices.
There are twelve spacious parks here, and four elegant bridges cross the Genesee. The Rochester University, founded by the Baptist denomination in 1850, is located on a tract of twelve acres, a little to the east of the city. It has a valuable library and mineralogical cabinet. The State Reform School or Western House of Refuge for vicious boys is an imposing edifice, containing usually about four hundred inmates. Mount Hope, the site of the cemetery—beforereferred to—is a beautiful eminence overlooking the city.
At the time of my visit, Rochester supported thirty-four newspapers and periodicals, of which six were dailies. The population was about 90,000.
It seems that Fortune has favored the "Flour City," or at least that wise heads and generous hearts have planned for her greatest good. It is proper to look back into the beginnings for the keynote to success in our American towns, and in this case, we doubtless find it in the unselfish forethought of the first men added to its wonderful natural resources.
A simple little incident, told of Colonel Rochester, illustrates the principle, whose benefit others are reaping. He was working in his garden one day, setting out fruit trees, when a neighbor came along and stopped to chat. The Colonel said: "I do not know that I shall eat any fruit from the trees I am planting, but as I eat from trees somebody planted for me, I must set out trees for those who will come after me." It was this provision for those who were to "come after" that has done much towards making Rochester what she is to-day.
THE DISTRICT SCHOOL HOUSE.THE DISTRICT SCHOOL HOUSE.
Sprague House,
Churchville, New York,
June 12, 1876.
I found as I mountedPaulat nine o'clock in front of the Osburn House that on this twelfth of June, 1876, my day's ride would be a trying one on account of the heat, but it was impossible to change the weather and impracticable to change my plans, so I accepted the inevitable. As usual through Central New York a number of Grand Army friends and others had assembled to see me off, and to wish me a safe journey to the "Golden Gate." This cordiality, shown me all along the route, took away the sense of strangeness natural to one travelling through comparatively unfamiliar places, and gave me an idea of the hospitality of our American people. The pleasant good-byes over,Pauland I started away in the direction of Chili, which we reached about noon. Here I had dinner and passed the remainder of the day, resorting again to the eveninghours for resuming my journey; and I may add that in this instance I found "something in a name," for Chili was an admirable place to keep cool in.
At six o'clock I started on towards Churchville, coming in sight of its church spires a little after sunset, and lessening the distance to San Francisco by some fifteen miles.
Notwithstanding the stop over at Chili, I was glad when we came to the end of my journey, and must confess that as I rode into the village the sight of the Sprague House gratified me more than the view of the picturesque town as I saw it outlined against the evening sky.
Byron Centre Hotel,
Byron Centre, New York,
June Thirteenth.
Soon after breakfast in Churchville, I threw myself into the saddle and started for Bergen Corners, reaching it by eleven o'clock. This distance of two miles was covered very leisurely, for there was no pressing engagement to fill, and I could "gang my own gait." When there was anything to attract the eye—a sightly field of grain, or change of scene, I usually stopped to notice it and add one more impression to the panorama which my overland journey continually spread before me. At the "Corners" I spent a few hours quietly, if I except the slight interruptions of the landlord of the Hooper House and his family. These interruptions for curiosity's sake were easily pardoned by me, for anything a little humorous and characteristic is always acceptable to one bent on seeinglife in all its phases; and besides, the softening influence of home-made bread and other country luxuries, which were furnished me here, tended to make me look charitably upon everything.
In the afternoon I left for Byron Centre, reaching it at six o'clock and making eleven miles for the day. While at supper there, the guests of the Byron Centre House were greatly amused by two itinerant photographers who, after their day's work was done, made a practice of entertaining the public with fife and drum. Through this cunning advertising scheme it was my good fortune to see one of the most interesting crowds that rustic America could bring together. These enterprising "artist musicians" seemed to possess the magic powers of Orpheus, for the villagers attracted by their strains came flocking from every direction and unconsciously made up a group which would have been irresistible to a painter, and which was certainly interesting to the ordinary observer. The sight was an entirely novel one to me, for although I am a New Yorker, and have seen roving concerns of almost every description, this particular species had never come to my notice. Through the courtesy of Charles Leonard, the proprietor of the hotel here, I was introduced to several Byron Centre gentlemen, among them Rev. Edwin Allen, who called just before my departure. Mr. Allen was most cordial, and gave me a very clever idea of the place, and the country adjacent.
Throughout my journey I was often placed under obligations of this sort. They added to my pleasure and increased my facilities for becoming acquainted with the people and the country.
St. James Hotel,
Batavia, New York,
June Fourteenth.
A delightful shower of the previous evening cooled the air, and made my journey to Batavia exceedingly pleasant. During the day I passed some of the finest clover and wheat fields that I had seen since leaving Rochester. The rain may have brightened their color and made them look their best, but regardless of this, it is evident that the soil through this section of New York is under a very high state of cultivation, and signs of thrift are noticeable on every hand. I found, as is generally the case upon approaching a town, the farms more tastefully laid out, with their wide stretches of wheat, and their pretty conventional "kitchen gardens."
After these outskirting homes I came upon the more dignified buildings of Batavia proper, where push and enterprise have made some striking advances. It is quite a business town, having its share of manufactories, banks and newspapers, and, with its population of something over four thousand, possessing the benefits of a larger place. It is thirty-two miles west of Rochester and thirty-seven east of Buffalo. The State Institute for the Blind is situated here.
In the evening I lectured at Ellicott Hall, and was introduced by lawyer L. L. Crosby, a comrade of the Grand Army, who, during the late war, was an officer in the Fifth Michigan Cavalry. Among those whocalled upon me at the St. James before the lecture was Samuel A. Lester, a fellow-soldier of the Harris Light Cavalry, with whom I talked over many of our experiences in Company "E" of the "Old Regiment." Nothing has been so gratifying to me in the course of my journey, changes of scene, or new faces, as these meetings with old comrades, and the talks of camp and field. Separating at the close of the war, when the trying experiences we had equally shared had drawn us strangely together, it was natural that a glimpse of those we had known under such circumstances should be a delight after so many years. It gave a different phase to my journey, too, and made it not only a series of new and pleasant changes, but an extended visit which might delight any traveller.
RURAL SCENE IN CENTRAL NEW YORK.RURAL SCENE IN CENTRAL NEW YORK.
Crossroads,
Near Croft's Station, New York,
June Fifteenth.
I did not find it convenient to leave Batavia until eight o'clock in the evening, but as most of the six miles between the two places lay through a swampy region, I had a running fight with the mosquitoes, which encouraged me to make good time, so that I reached "Croft's" in an hour. On my arrival I found Babcock awaiting me with accommodation provided at a quiet little retreat situated at the Crossroads, which was hotel, grocery and farm-house in one. This odd grocery-tavern is about half a mile from the station; just far enough away to have peculiarities of its own. While its proprietor was throwing downhay forPaulfrom his barn loft, he in some way lost his footing and fell through, but no serious damage was done.
This little incident simply added an extra attraction to the "horse that was going to California." In the course of the morning I went to the hotel sitting-room to make some observations and to post my journal. While quietly occupied in this way I noticed the arrival of several of the men and boys of the place, who came in, seated themselves on the wooden benches that were placed around the sides of the room, and began unceremoniously to "look me over." Phoebe, the proprietor's daughter, and the ruling spirit at the "Corners," a bright little maid, who filled the offices of cook, waitress, chambermaid and clerk, assumed one of her various roles and was standing behind the counter. Soon, one of her rustic knights sauntered up to her, pipe in mouth, and called out, "Pheeb, gimme a match!" Whereupon, her father, who was standing on one side of the room, country fashion, with 'trousers over his boot-tops, and in his shirt sleeves, stepped forward and said with admirable dignity, "Phebe, sir!" adding, as the nonplused offender made some bashful apology, "You's brought up well nuff, Jack, but you've forgot some on't."
This was an unexpected turn of affairs which I scarcely expected to witness at "Croft's," but it at least gave evidence of a certain sense of refinement which we Americans would hardly be credited with outside our cultivated circles. It afforded, too, food for reflection upon that assumption of equality which in this country so often tends to familiarity. We are prone to forget that "familiarity breeds contempt."
Crittenden House,
Crittenden, New York,
June Sixteenth.
Started from "Croft's" at ten o'clock, stopping at the little post village of Corfu for dinner, where I was introduced to several people who had come together to greet me upon my arrival. Among them were Dr. Fuller, Dr. John McPherson and S. E. Dutton. Dinner over, I rested until five o'clock, resuming my journey at that hour and reaching Crittenden at six. As I rode up to the hotel at this place I found that a number of villagers had gathered to give me welcome, and to learn something of my journey and its objects. I talked to them for some time and then followed a strong inclination to walk into the country. There were no unusual attractions about this little village of a hundred souls excepting the cordiality of its people and the natural attraction that there always is about a small community in the midst of thriving acres. To one who has been "a country boy" himself, these things never lose their charm, and he will give them the preference, I think, to the finest sights in town.
They recall a certain old home somewhere, long since abandoned for the charms of Vanity Fair, or a quaint little "school house" where he first began to think about the great world beyond. They form, too, the resting-places in the ascent of the hill of life, from the vantage-ground of which we may review our progress since those early days.
American House,
Lancaster, New York,
June Seventeenth and Eighteenth.
My ride from Crittenden to this place, a distance of ten miles, was made in easy time owing to the oppressively warm weather; for my only aim was to reach my destination in season to meet my lecture appointment. Found the farmers along the route still working out their taxes on the public roads, which were greatly in need of attention. Speaking to them as I passed along I found that they looked rather curiously at the strange horse and rider, doubtless wondering whence we came and whither we were bound.
Addressed my Lancastrian audience in the Methodist Episcopal Church in the evening, Captain G. S. Remington introducing.
Early in the morning I had found, upon going to the stable, thatPaulwas badly cut, and there was much speculation as to how and by whom the injury was done; but it was generally conjectured that he had had a battle with a horse belonging to the landlord, during the night. This horse, which was a large and powerful stallion, had recently been shod, so that in the matter of equipment he had a decided advantage over "Paul Revere," who was possibly not averse to celebrating the anniversary of the Battle of Bunker Hill.
The day following my arrival at Lancaster being Sunday, Captain Remington called for me in the morning, and I accompanied him to the Presbyterian Church.
As we passed along on our way to church, I had a good opportunity to see this little town on Cayuga Creek, and the added advantage of a personal account of the place from one of its residents. Like all towns adjacent to a large city, Lancaster has a certain air of independence, and unmistakable signs of contact with greater forces; and besides its pretty homes, some of them the out-of-town retreats of Buffalo business men, it has its share of industrial enterprises.
Altogether, it is a pretty little neighbor of which any city might be proud, and which in its peace-loving way is very sensible in standing off at a distance from its busier sister. A few minutes by rail can take its thousand and a half inhabitants "to town," where they find the best that the great stores provide; and a ride of a few minutes more brings them out of the noise to their own quiet haven.
It is hard to realize a more delightful and thoroughly restful existence than that found in suburban villages, where the influences of active forces are felt, but where they cannot disturb the even tranquillity. They seem to illustrate the "golden mean" which Horace recommends, and I find that it is always pleasant to reach such places and hard to leave them.
THE ROAD TO BUFFALO.THE ROAD TO BUFFALO.
An hour's ride from Lancaster, on the morning of the nineteenth, brought to view the motley array of chimneys and towers that overtop the "Queen City of the Lakes." While making my way towards them, and receiving first impressions, my attention was attracted by a brigade drill on the parade ground, which I halted to witness. This was the first instance during my journey in which I had encountered any considerable body of military men, with the exception of the Grand Army procession at Utica, on Memorial Day. The marching and manœuvres evinced close attention to tactics and excellent discipline, and the equipment of officers and men reflected much credit upon the Empire State, which has every reason to be proud of these her citizen-soldiers.
Drill over, I rode on into Buffalo, and, soon after registering at the Tift House, had the pleasure of meeting Major John M. Farquhar, who introduced me to my audience at St. James Hall in the evening.
Major Farquhar is a comrade, prominent in G. A. R. circles, and was then commander of the leadingpost of the city. From him I learned something of the changes which had taken place since my last visit here, and which I was desirous to see as much of as circumstances would allow. Buffalo has a peculiarly rich history, and, like the old towns of the Mohawk Valley, the romantic view which Indian life and love have given.
Near here the arrogant Eries held their councils, and deliberated upon the downfall of their powerful neighbors of the Five Nations; who, in turn, ruined and almost exterminated them. The chronicles tell us that the Iroquois, coming by invitation to engage in friendly contest on the hunting-ground of the Eries, soon discovered the real intent of the wily "Cats," who were jealous of the renown of their red brothers. Failing in the games they had themselves proposed, and blind with rage, they saw their tolerant guests depart with the trophies of victory. No sooner were they out of sight than a council of war was held, and a decision to conquer them agreed upon. The war bonnets were donned, the dog sacrificed, and every preparation made for a raid into the enemy's country; but a Seneca woman who had been taken prisoner by the Eries some years before, apprised the great chiefs of her nation of the intended attack.
In this way the Eries were in turn surprised and defeated in their last game with their rivals. Only a few of their warriors were left to bear the hateful news to the women and old men who were waiting in the wigwams: and these with their allies, terribly punished as they had been in the encounter, were driven by their infuriated enemies beyond the Mississippi. The Senecas, who proudly called themselvesthe western gate-keepers of the "Long House," made a settlement near Buffalo, to which they gave the musical name of Te-you-seo-wa, the place of basswood, having found there huts covered with basswood bark, the remnants of some lately abandoned village. This settlement was not as near the lake-front as the city now is, but was cautiously laid out farther back from shore to prevent surprise. Here the young braves found a favorite hunting-ground, and were wont to conceal themselves near the salt springs that bubble up from the border of the creek, to await the buffaloes, which came there in herds. There has been some dispute as to the naming of the city, and the possibility of the American bison having frequented this part of the country, but it is generally believed that herds of these herbivorous animals did graze on Eastern soil, and that the attacks of carnivorous beasts and the constant warfare waged against them by the Indians drove them to the Western plains.
Nearly two centuries ago, when the site of the present city was still a wilderness through whose tangled labyrinths Indian eyes peered out over the gleaming waters of the lake, La Hontan penetrated these western wilds, and suggested to his sovereign the building of a fort here, as a safeguard against the Iroquois.
We see almost instinctively the scenes which he saw as we follow him through lake and stream—the great falls sparkling beneath an August sun, their wild surroundings unmarred and untrodden save by moccasined feet; the rapids and then the river, to whose current, farther up, he trusted his boat.But it was not until long after this that the sound of the woodman's axe was heard in the forests at the foot of Lake Erie, when the pioneer had come to make his home, and to lay the foundation of a future city.
One after another crude cabins were raised, and in turn were replaced by more comfortable houses, so that in 1813 the settlement was large enough to make quite a bonfire for the British and their dusky allies. The events which took place at Buffalo, connected with this war, were singularly exciting; and, although there were brave hearts and stout arms ready to defend their country, we cannot but regret the peculiar circumstances which led to the general havoc here.
Historians have gleaned such glowing descriptions from those who were either witnesses or participants in these stirring scenes, that we cannot fail to be moved by them.
The night surprise, in the woods, near Black Rock, when the American troops were suddenly greeted by ambushed Britons: the rout which followed when the terrified horsemen dashed back in retreat through the ranks of the infantry, demoralizing them in turn, is so vividly drawn that it has the reality of later times. Afterwards when the alarmed people heard the cry that the British were coming, and we see them in confused masses trying to escape with their household goods, we sympathize with their terror as they saw in the distance the dreaded Indian jogging towards them with club and hatchet.
It was then that Job Hoysington, who was with one of the retreating parties, lingered behind his companions, saying that he would have "one more shot atthe Red Skins." He evidently did have the coveted chance, and so did the enemy, for when the snow melted in the spring the brave fellow was found with his empty musket at his side, and a bullet through his brain. The work of vengeance had been completed with the scalping-knife. At the corner of Main and Niagara streets an old twelve-pounder stood. As the imposing column of British infantry were advancing upon the town, a patriotic citizen had the gun mounted and two shots fired into the ranks. He afterwards met the enemy with a flag of truce—a handkerchief tied to his cane—and requested a halt.
This was granted, and a parley begun, while the townspeople were escaping.
The firing of the houses and the plundering of them by the Indians followed. Buffalo rose, however, from her ashes full of new life and ambition, and much improved in appearance. Her firesides were again the scene of happy security, and her women, lately fugitives, fleeing in terror from fire and sword, were again the social inspirations of a thriving community. More than this, they were contributing to the enterprises of the city, for in 1821 between three and four thousand yards of cloth were woven in the homes of Buffalo!
The Erie Canal being completed in 1822, and commerce beginning in earnest, no doubt took away from the importance of the spinning-wheel and loom, for these busy little machines of the past have been stored away in the garrets long enough to make them well-seasoned relics. Housewifely attention at this time had to be turned to the management of larger establishments, for Buffalo had far outgrown her infancy,and was assuming certain new conceits in architecture, although she has never equalled the splendor of other large cities in her public buildings. The new City and County Hall approaches more nearly to the modern idea, and is very attractive within and without. It is built of Maine granite in the form of a double Roman cross, and is surmounted by a lofty tower bearing four symbolic figures. With the increase of canal and railroad traffic, the building of the immense grain elevators, which are a striking feature of Buffalo, was commenced.
Their number and size have been increased to such an extent that they almost make a town in themselves and are capable of accommodating eight million bushels of grain. The incessant work of storing and transferring is carried on about these wooden giants day after day, sometimes to the extent of more than three million bushels, while, at their feet, boats come and go in the great commercial game of "give and take." There is every facility for carrying on a trade of this kind, for Buffalo River is navigable for more than two miles from its mouth, which is protected by breakwaters which form an excellent harbor, while there is a water-front on the lake and the Niagara River five miles long. In 1869, the United States Government began the construction of an outside harbor, by building a breakwater 4000 feet long fronting the entrance of the Buffalo River.
Overlooking Buffalo River stand the office buildings whence come the calculating and controlling influences that keep in "clock work" order this mart where grain is "received, transferred, stored and forwarded with greater dispatch than in any other port ofthe country." Beyond these, in the heart of the city, are the retail and wholesale stores, where not only Buffalo finds her wants supplied, but numberless sister towns; and owing to her close proximity to the great coal region of Pennsylvania, she has very cheap fuel, which, no doubt, is a convenient item when a "cold wave" comes across the lake. Her iron works, reputed to be the largest in the country, add to her general good fortune by putting within easy access the necessary stoves.
Besides all this material comfort, the climate is extremely healthful, and the location of the city such as to make clean, wide streets a possibility.
There are several of these lined with handsome residences, and adorned with parks, which are wisely thought to be an indispensable luxury.
In the midst of the business hurry there are several quiet corners where one may quench his thirst for knowledge, and where master-thinkers lend their potent influence. One of these is the Grosvenor Library, the munificent gift of one of Buffalo's pioneers. It is admirably arranged for convenience and comfort, and has a pleasant outlook over a little park between Washington and Main streets. The Library of the Young Men's Association, although containing nearly twice as many volumes as the Grosvenor, is not so largely frequented, but is, nevertheless, a great resort for readers. There are also a number of smaller libraries, where eager minds may have their fill of books.
Here and there about the city one finds the familiar evidences of Christian thought and work in the beautiful tower-capped churches, each with its ownvaried attractions. St. Paul's Cathedral—Episcopalian—a handsome structure of brownstone, ivy-grown and picturesque, from whose walls in summer comes the sound of birds, lies almost centrally among a hundred others, and not far away is the Roman Catholic house of worship, the dignified bit of Gothic architecture which they have named St. Joseph's.
One of my favorite haunts here is the quiet, carpetless "Historical Rooms," from whose walls the Indian warriors who helped make Buffalo's history look down in unchanging stolidity. Not least among these is Red Jacket, who forms such a striking figure in the city's traditions. An amusing incident which his picture recalls is that of Lafayette on his return from his Western tour in 1824. Among the preparations that were being made for his reception was the guarding, by an especial committee, of their "aboriginal lion," who was a trifle too fond of his "firewater" and who was to be the leading orator of the day. When the appointed time arrived, so the story goes, the sachem was led upon the platform in all his conscious dignity. A long conversation between him and the great Frenchman followed, through an interpreter, whom Red Jacket employed upon formal occasions; in the course of which the Indian complimented the General upon his youthful appearance. "Time has left you a fresh countenance, and hair to cover your head," said he, "while as for me—see!" and he took off the scarf that was wound about his own bald crown. This provoked a laugh among the spectators who knew that Lafayette wore a wig. When Red Jacket was made aware of the fact, he added with ready wit thathe too might supply himself with a new head of hair by the aid of a scalping-knife!
Everything upon the walls and in the cases has been donated by private individuals, as the society has not yet been able to make valuable purchases, but there is enough already to make this treasure-house of the past interesting. Relics from pioneer times figure largely; among the rest, arrow-heads and tomahawks, pipes and belts of wampum, adding to the odd collection, and suggesting all manner of horrors to those who delight in Indian history.
"Forest Lawn," the place which Buffalo has selected for her dead, is a most lovely spot, the loveliest of its kind between Brooklyn's Greenwood and Chicago. Everything that art could do in the arrangement of shrub and flower has been added, and stands as a tribute to those who are "lying low" and as a witness to the faithful thought of the living. It is only one of the beautiful tokens of devotion which one sees, from the simple epitaph in a country graveyard in the East to the solitary resting-place, high in some tree-top of the West, where our Red Brother "sleeps his last sleep."
Adjoining the Cemetery are a few acres of woodland that have been set aside for a kind of park. On warm summer days those seeking rest and pleasure, come to pay their respects to Dame Nature, who makes herself very attractive here. But this is only one, and a comparatively small one, of the various resorts where tired humanity may drop its burden, and roam at will. So Buffalo has her grave and her gay side, and her business side, which is neither grave nor gay, making their different impressions on the traveller'seye, and combining, as a whole, in a very pleasing effect. She has made and will make some very striking changes, as all cities of consequence do; but changes worthy of the "Queen City of the Lakes," who, although she may have to relinquish her title to some outstripping sister, may always hold her head high with conscious importance. She is still the third city in the State of New York in point of population.