Ocean to Ocean on Horseback Part 21

Thomas Rix.

I found a few familiar faces at Niles which I had seen during my previous visit, and several new places of interest about the town.

Navigation on the St. Joseph ends at this point, and the narrowed stream is spanned by a railroad bridge; and the water-power increased by a dam.

There is a brisk business carried on at the water's edge.

The mills are well supplied with grain from outlying fields, and boats are continually plying back and forth laden with lumber, grain, flour and fruit, which are s.h.i.+pped from here in large quant.i.ties. In fact, for its size--it claims I believe, a population of something over 4,000--Niles is full of energy and ambition. I found myself on this second visit very much interested in the place and pleased that circ.u.mstances had made necessary a second halt.

One hundred and Nineteenth Day.

_Konnard House_, BUCHANAN, MICHIGAN, _September Seventh_.

Resumed my journey at two o'clock in the afternoon at a small way place between Niles and Buchanan, where I rested at noon. The heavy rains of the preceding days had left the roads in a most wretched condition, and the distance was considerably lengthened as it was necessary to avoid pools and washouts, so that it took two hours of slow riding to reach my destination. Darby, who had gone forward with my advance agents, was the first to greet me at this place and to inform me of the arrangements made for my lecture in the evening.

As my day's journey had been undertaken leisurely, I started out on a tour of inspection, after having first made comfortable provision for _Paul_. I found a flouris.h.i.+ng village, having a population of something over 2,000, and prettily situated on the St. Joseph River. As I walked in and out through its streets and looked for the last time upon the stream, which for its romantic history and natural charm had forced itself upon my notice so often, I could not avoid a certain feeling of regret that this was to be my last halt in the great State through which I had made such a pleasant and profitable journey. Pictures of orchard and meadow, of wheat field and river, pa.s.sed in review once more, and with them the recollection of the splendid part the patriots of Michigan bore in the War for the Union, than whom was none more loyal than the heroic Custer, for whose memory I had spoken and received such warm response.

One hundred and Twentieth Day.

_Private House_, ROLLING PRAIRIE, INDIANA, _September Eighth_.

Called for my horse at Buchanan at nine o'clock in the morning, intending to stop at New Buffalo, but once on the road, I decided instead to make this village my evening objective. A heavy rain-storm, setting in early in the forenoon, compelled me to take refuge at a farm house for about an hour, where I was initiated into the home life of the Northern Indiana "Hoosier." I am sorry to say that during this day's ride I encountered the worst roads and the dullest people of my journey.

Many who have resided in this part of Indiana for thirty and even forty years are not only exceedingly illiterate, but know much less of the topography of the country than the average Indian--and absolutely nothing of the adjacent towns. As a consequence I was obliged to trust to chance, which brought me to Galion, a tiny hamlet on the outskirts of a swamp, where I had dinner. My ride thither was made under circ.u.mstances which suggested the ride of the belated Tam O'Shanter, and while my tortures could not compare with his, they were none the less acute while they lasted. I was met on the edge of the swamp by a swarm of mosquitoes--known in France as _pet.i.te diables_--who forced their attention upon me without cessation, in spite of the fact that I urged my horse forward at breakneck speed, _Paul's_ steaming flanks and mire-covered legs attesting to the struggle, when we drew up in front of Galion Inn.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A HOOSIER CABIN.]

One hundred and Twenty-first Day.

_Jewell House_, MICHIGAN CITY, INDIANA, _September Ninth_.

I considered myself fortunate, during my ride from Rolling Prairie to Michigan City--a distance of sixteen miles--in having a sandy road and no rain from the time of setting out in the morning until my arrival here in the evening, but I was less favored than usual in obtaining information.

The Presidential campaign was now at white heat and very little outside of politics was discussed. I found, however, that the ideas of many of the farmers were confused upon the issues. The three candidates in the field made the canva.s.s unusually exciting. Hayes and Tilden were, of course, the central figures, but Peter Cooper of New York had many staunch supporters and a few enthusiasts rallied around Blaine, Conkling and Morton. The proprietor of the Jewell House--a Cooper man--was at this time much more interested in the success of his favorite than in the receipts of his hotel, and his halls and parlors were the rendezvous for men of all parties.

One hundred and Twenty-second Day.

_Jewell House_, MICHIGAN CITY, INDIANA, _September Tenth_.

As it was Sunday and I had a desire to visit the most imposing inst.i.tution connected with Michigan City--the Northern State Penitentiary, I decided to make the two miles on foot, and be there for divine service. I found everything admirably conducted, and although such a place is not the most cheerful in the world to be shown through, I was well satisfied that I had gone, and was strongly impressed with the effect of the stern hand of the law. In the afternoon a heavy rain and wind storm came up, and I stayed in my room, the greater part of the time, writing up my journal, and arranging for my lecture tour across Illinois and Iowa, thereby accomplis.h.i.+ng certain duties which fair weather might have tempted me to neglect.

It was my intention to go by rail to Chicago on the following morning, where I was announced to lecture at Farwell Hall.

Darby, to whom I have previously referred in connection with Decatur, and who was acting as advance agent in the small towns and villages that lay along my route, was with me during my stay at the Jewell House, and we had frequent talks over our adventures in the "Harris Light"--Second New York Cavalry--in which most of our active service was pa.s.sed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CIRCUS IN TOWN.]

CHAPTER XIX.

THREE DAYS AT CHICAGO.

On the eleventh of September, I took the 7.50 morning train at Michigan City for Chicago, instead of going forward on horseback, as I had discovered by a study of the map of Illinois, that I could save _Paul_ some thirty miles, in my journey across the State, by riding directly from Michigan City to Joliet, and I saw no good reason why I should ride him up here, especially at a time when he was greatly in need of rest.

When I had registered at the "Grand Pacific," I went to the Fidelity Safe Deposit Company to attend to some business matters and then over to the Express and Post offices, concluding my rounds by a call upon friends on West Was.h.i.+ngton street.

Lectured to a full house at Farwell Hall in the evening, the introduction being given by Major E. S. Weedon, editor of the _Army and Navy Gazette_. The Major alluded in eloquent and touching terms to the record of the gallant Custer and immediately put my audience in sympathy with me. My brother-in-law, Madison H. Buck, of Lake Mills, Wisconsin, called upon me in the evening and was with me on the platform. The lecture closed before ten o'clock, and I hurried over to McVicker's Theatre, to see the last acts of "Mulberry Sellers," in which John T.

Raymond was playing his favorite role. The play was having quite a run, and one heard at every turn the expression that had caught the popular fancy--Mulberry's inimitable a.s.surance, "There's millions in it!"

On the morning of the twelfth, I settled with George and Babc.o.c.k. The former went forward to Ottawa, and the latter to Joliet. It was my intention at the time to push on to Omaha and Cheyenne as rapidly as possible in the hope of pa.s.sing Sherman, at the summit of the mountains, before the snow was too deep to interrupt my journey. Eight general halts had been decided upon between Boston and San Francisco, and these were Albany, Buffalo, Toledo, Chicago, Omaha, Cheyenne, Ogden, and Sacramento. I had now reached my fourth objective and felt the importance of more haste and less leisure and sightseeing. My time, therefore, in this great city was necessarily cut short.

The Exposition had just opened at the time I reached Chicago, and this enabled me to see more in a few hours than I could have possibly seen in any other way, and gave me quite an idea of the industries carried on in Cook County.

I had never seen a finer local affair of the kind and was confident that its object--the encouragement of agriculture and industry--would be successfully accomplished. Anyone who sees the way in which Chicagoans throw themselves into an undertaking of this sort, and in fact into everything that has to do with the enterprise or prosperity of their city, cannot but be struck with admiration.

Their irrepressible hopefulness, which effected such marvelous results after the great conflagration of 1871, is a case in point, and those who have been fortunate enough to see the transformation, are forced to admit that the calamity was, after all, not so much to be deplored. Out of the great waste in which the business portion was laid, handsome buildings have sprung up with almost magic rapidity and auguring well for the future of the "Windy City." Especially is this feature striking in the vicinity of the City Hall, where finer edifices rose upon the old ruins.

The very name of Chicago carries us back to the barbaric scenes of more than two hundred years ago. Where the beautiful city now stands, those days of long since past knew only a mora.s.s, an oozy, desolate stretch of water-soaked swamp. There was a stream in this desolate region, the banks of which, tradition tells us, were parched and cracked and blackened by the frequent ravages of lightning. The early explorers found on its banks an old stone mound, supposed to have been erected for the sacrifice of human victims to propitiate the wrath of the Indian deity Chekagua, the Thunder G.o.d.

On the oldest map of this region now extant, one published in 1684, the little river itself bears the name Chekagua, and it may be, that our fair Western metropolis of to-day was also a namesake of that same weird divinity.

Others, claiming a more propitious christening, a.s.sert that Chicago was a derivative from Chacaqua, the Indian term for the Divine River.

Or perhaps the city was named from the successive t.i.tles of the proud, old Tamawas Chiefs.

"Not a monarch in all that proud Old World beyond the deep" bore more haughtily his inherited t.i.tle of Herod or Caesar than did one of these Tamawas rulers exult in the ancient t.i.tle of Chacaqua. If this theory of the origin of Chicago's cognomen be accepted, then indeed can the "Windy City" claim a royal t.i.tle from the first.

In 1673, certain Catholic missionaries became interested in exploring the Western Wilds. They were especially enthusiastic in regard to the waterways of darkest America. The Mississippi they had heard of. Was it possible that it ever could be made to join hands with the Great Lakes, of which they had some knowledge?

So questioning, Fathers Marquette and Joliet took two canoes and five men from the upper lake regions, and started to explore the charming Valley of the Mississippi.

On their return they reached the mouth of the Illinois, where they were informed of a new way of reaching Lake Michigan.

"Taking the Des Plaines branch, they were able to reach the water shed, but eight feet higher than canoeable waters, crossing which they launched into the stream which conducted them into the lake."

In so doing they made perhaps the greatest discovery of their time--namely, a discovery of that supremely important portage which insures Chicago's supremacy so long as American civilization exists.

In October, 1674, Marquette returned to this spot and erected the first white man's dwelling which was ordained to be the beginning of the great metropolis of the West. His little hut was both a home and a sanctuary. Here he wintered, shooting turkey, deer and buffalo from his door. Here in the spring, from toil and exposure, he died, mourned by the savages whom he had taught.

Thus was Chicago begun in embryo.

There in that lagoon, filled with ooze, with its impa.s.sable fens, and drifting sands, civilization and religion had their representative who laid the foundation of the great Coming City bravely with teachings of "The love of G.o.d, and the brotherhood of man."

We have good maps of 1688 which show us that a little later this lake end of the water communication with Louisiana was made a military post, called Fort Chicagon.