_The Tally-ho_ — _How it dashed along_ — _The Parks along the
Lake_ — _Chicago_ — _The Auditorium and other Sky-dwellers_ —
_The Whaleback._
[Illustration: MEMORIAL BUILDING, ON THE SITE WHERE THE GREAT FIRE
STARTED.]
On Tuesday morning the party hurried through their breakfast in order
to catch the tally-ho which was to pause in its mad career to pick
up passengers from their hotel. Although it was a cloudy morning,
threatening rain, they did not like to postpone this trip again.
Consequently ten o’clock, the hour set, beheld them “all agog to dash
through thick and thin” like John Gilpin.
Presently something drew up at the door. It was not what would be
called by the critical a tally-ho. It was not even a coach. It was
on wheels, it had seats here and there, and four animals dragged it.
Baron Munchausen once had his horse cut close off by the fall of a
portcullis. If the same accident had befallen a tally-ho, and it had
been then spliced to the end of a park wagon, the resulting vehicle
would have been not unlike the wagon which presented itself at the door.
“Is this it?” asked Mr. Douglass, dubiously presenting his ticket.
“This,” said the man (he was hardly yet a voter), “is it. Yes, sir. The
tally-ho, sir.”
“Well,” remarked Mr. Douglass, turning to the boys, “what do you say?”
“We’d better go,” said Harry. “It’s all arranged; and the wagon looks
comfortable anyway. Don’t you say so, Phil?”
“Yes,” said Philip. “It’s no tally-ho, but I don’t know as that makes
any great difference. It has wheels, and—horses,” after a pause.
Having taken outside seats, they climbed up on the wheel-hub and two
steps, and were soon perched some ten feet above the ground ready to
start. Just as they settled themselves in their places, a policeman
came to the curb and spoke warningly to the driver, who said, “I can’t
help it,” and gathered up the reins.
[Illustration: DRIVEWAYS OF THE GRAND BOULEVARD.]
Mr. Douglass, who was not used to fast riding, made up his mind that
their lofty seat might be a risky place to sit, and was gratified to
find a stout rail at the back of the seat, which afforded an excellent
place to hold on. Harry, too, concluded that they would soon be tearing
at breakneck speed through the crowded streets of the city, and began
to think he had been unjust to the “tally-ho.”
“We’re off!” said Philip, as the horses heaved at the traces and the
wagon changed its place leisurely: At a slow walk they drew the wagon
around the corner and stopped at another hotel. A man who seemed to be
in charge alighted and entered the door. That was the last seen of him
for a considerable period. Queries to the driver were smiled away. They
waited and waited. Nothing happened. After their patience was gone, the
missing man came back, and the coach floated on.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING THE PARK SYSTEM OF CHICAGO.]
“Now we’re started!” said Mr. Douglass, with an expression of relief.
But the coach rounded a corner in a leisurely manner, and drew up at
another hotel. Again the man disappeared, and the waiting was repeated.
“This is not a tally-ho,” said Harry, “it is a tarry-whoa”; and so
it proved. Even after the man was again at hand, the old coach went
no faster than the slowest of jog-trots. And at the same dolorous
gait they loitered along on Woodlawn Avenue, a straight street
beautifully paved, and fit to be a blessing to bicyclers. They were
as long in passing a given point as was possible. Every vehicle went
by them except children’s carriages with nurses; wagons of heavy
iron-castings, dirt-carts, streetcars—until one man remarked jocosely
that he was afraid a funeral might come up behind and run over them.
Then Harry remembered the policeman who spoke to the driver just as
they were starting, and a light dawned upon that mystery.
“You remember that ‘cop’ who talked to our driver?” he asked Philip.
“Yes,” said Philip; “I thought he was warning him against reckless
driving.”
“So did I,” said Harry, laughing. “But I’m sure now that he was saying
a word for the poor horses. Why, those Fifth Avenue stage-horses they
make such fun of in New York are Arabian coursers compared to these!
See them creep!”
[Illustration: VIEW ON STATE STREET, LOOKING NORTHWARD FROM MADISON
STREET.]
They passed some gray stone buildings on the way to the business part
of the city, and the driver said they were the Chicago University—a
statement they accepted at the time, but doubted when they became
better acquainted with the driver’s acquirements as a guide. Another
great establishment they saw was an old field crowded with tents and
labeled “Camp Jackson.” A sign upon its rainbow-tinted fence informed
the public that board in that field and under those tents was two
dollars a week and thirty-five cents a day.
“It’s a comfort,” said Harry, “to reflect that all these places, rough
as they are, mean to offer Fair accommodations.”
At another time this weak pun would not have been noticed, but upon
that weary, slow ride anything was a relief: when the horses stopped
to drink, it was an event; when a new passenger got on (one did), the
excitement was intense. But nothing hastened the wagon. It meant to
get to Chicago if it took all day; and after awhile they did begin
to see buildings more closely set, and then they entered a beautiful
park. The driver said it was Washington Park, and on consulting a map
afterward, the boys made up their minds that he had guessed right—there
were some things the driver knew.
The park was flat as a board, as is all the country for miles around;
but as the ground was mainly given up to beautiful green lawns
extending as far as one could see, the effect was excellent, and marred
only by some very florid designs laid out in colored plants. One of
these designs formed a sun-dial, called “Sol’s Clock”; another showed a
few bars of “Hail Columbia.”
[Illustration: THE POST-OFFICE. THE CITY HALL, CHICAGO. (From
photographic prints. By permission of C. Ropp & Sons, Chicago.)]
Even Mr. Douglass had now given up his visions of dashing along to the
sound of a “yard of brass,” and so far from being at all nervous, would
not have been afraid to stand upright in any part of the coach. He kept
thinking of a parody upon Shakspere’s description of the school-boy:
“A tarry-whoa, creeping like snail, unwillingly to Chicago.” By this
time they were in Michigan Avenue,—a thoroughfare with beautiful grass
plots along the street, but houses that did not please an architect who
was also on top of the coach. He declared all but a few of the houses
to be fussy and tiresome; and the boys noticed that those he commended
were plain and simple in their outlines, and little decorated.
At Twenty-second Street, they saw the Chicago street-cars, and found
that they ran in trains of three coupled together, an arrangement of
which they heartily approved. As they passed a baker’s cart, a small
boy leaned out and whipped the horses of their coach; whereupon several
of the passengers thanked him warmly, even though his efforts produced,
no result. Still, in time they did reach the city, and recognized the
lofty Auditorium, an enormous pile of stone, so many stories high that
the boys lost count in attempting to reckon them. Soon after they
admired the Art Institute, “a broad and low building of impressive
design.” They also saw the foundations being laid for another great
building, and remembered having read in _St. Nicholas_ that these heavy
structures could be supported only upon artificial foundations, such
as long piles driven deep into the soft ground. The Masonic Temple was
also seen as they passed through the busy part of the city.
There was a smoky smell in the air, and their first impression was of
being down-town in Broadway, New York, when a great fire was raging,
filling the air with smoke. Possibly the smoke was worse than usual,
for rain was falling at intervals and the air was heavy.
[Illustration: HOUSE OF JOHN KINZIE, THE FIRST WHITE SETTLER.]
None of them talked much, for the slow drive was anything but
enlivening. They went along Lake Street for some time, and then
wandered on until they drew up at the Waterworks. Here, despite the
protests of the passengers, there was a halt of five minutes, and
some got out and went in to see the machinery. When all were on board
again, the scenery slowly changed, and they found out that they were in
motion once more. But as they had reached the Lake Drive,—a beautiful
boulevard, and one of the system of drives that encircles the city,
connecting Chicago’s great parks into a ring of pleasure-grounds,—the
slow driving was not so irritating. They saw Mr. Potter Palmer’s
castellated mansion fronting the lake, and passing other fine
dwellings, reached Lincoln Park.
Against the sky, in silhouette, appeared the statue of General Grant,
an impressive feature of the park, and they were sorry that their route
did not bring them within view of the even finer Lincoln statue, of
which they had seen many pictures. Looking forward along the drive,
they saw a dark point of land along the horizon beyond the lake,
and were told by the rather taciturn driver that it was the city of
Milwaukee, which information surprised them quite as much as if he had
said it was Bagdad. “Traveling certainly makes one modest,” said Mr.
Douglass, who doubted the driver’s statement. “I had no thought of
seeing Milwaukee upon this drive.”
[Illustration: THE AUDITORIUM. MICHIGAN AVENUE AND CONGRESS STREET.
(From a photograph by J. W. Taylor.)]
[Illustration: THE ART INSTITUTE. MICHIGAN AVENUE. (From a photographic
print. By permission of C. Ropp & Sons, Chicago.)]
[Illustration: THE WOMAN’S TEMPLE. LA SALLE AND MONROE STREETS. (From a
photograph by J. W. Taylor.)]
[Illustration: MASONIC TEMPLE. STATE AND RANDOLPH STREETS. (From a
photographic print. By permission of C. Ropp & Sons, Chicago.)]
Another statue of a man in an old-style curled wig was seen, and
the driver told them it was Linn. Even the tutor had never heard of
Linn, and all remained puzzled until a turn in the road showed the
inscription “Linné,” whereupon they recognized Linnæus. Though they
hated to lose the invaluable information the driver was giving them in
homeopathic doses, they were glad when the coach worked its way to the
front of a park restaurant, and announcement was made that there would
be a halt of an hour or more for lunch.
[Illustration: THE LAKE-SHORE DRIVE.]
“Mr. Douglass,” said Philip, “I don’t know how you feel, but my feet
are as cold as ice, and I’d rather get off and walk.”
“Oh, let’s walk!” Harry chimed in. “I’d rather ride in a canal-boat
than to stay in this old coach any more.”
“So would I,” said Mr. Douglass. “I consider this ride a regular
swindle. See here!” he went on, turning to the driver’s accomplice,—a
young man who rode inside,—“what is the matter with this conveyance?
We’ve crept all the way out. Are you going any faster?”
“No, sir,” answered the young man, turning State’s evidence and
revealing the whole secret; “the fact is, those horses—look at ’em!—are
all played out. They’ve been going over this road for months, and
they’re played out.”
“We have had enough of it,” said the tutor, a little sharply, “and
we’ll walk.”
“I don’t blame you,” the young man answered, as if he would have liked
to join them.
[Illustration: VIEW ON MICHIGAN AVENUE, CHICAGO.]
Leaving the park, they inquired how to get back into the business
center of the city, and were told to take the cable-cars. These proved
to differ in some ways from New York cars, and one feature seemed
worthy to be copied. At the ends of each car the side seats ceased,
leaving a clear floor all across the car near the door, so that those
who were compelled to stand should not obstruct the middle aisle at the
doorway.
“That’s a good idea,” Philip remarked, as he pointed out the
arrangement to Harry; “for I’ve often noticed how people are sure to
stand right in the doorway, blocking up the passage.”
When they were near the end of their trip, the cars ran underground
through a whitewashed tunnel, and the boys made up their minds that
they were either running under the river or under the railway-tracks.
“It’s about time for lunch,” said Mr. Douglass, looking at his watch;
and turning to a young man beside him, he asked where there was a good
lunch-room. The young man recommended one, and they felt grateful to
him afterward. It was a large establishment, containing several kinds
of lunch-rooms. They went into the “business man’s lunch-room,” and had
an excellently cooked meal at a fair price.
[Illustration: THE ROOKERY. THE BOARD OF TRADE BUILDING.]
Until it was time to take the steamer, they wandered about the city
looking at the more notable buildings and enjoying the sensation of
being in a strange place. The great wholesale stores were like those
in parts of New York, but New York had nothing just like some of the
lofty buildings of more than twenty stories. Harry said that if there
were two or three streets like Broadway and running across one another,
or if Broadway were cut off in sections and laid criss-cross, the
result would resemble Chicago. They saw the Auditorium again, and the
Chamber of Commerce building, as well as some others; but the rain was
unpropitious to sight-seeing, and they soon determined to make their
way toward the “Whaleback” steamer. Of course they went wrong at first,
for Chicago is a puzzling place to strangers, and Harry had to ask a
big policeman for directions. He was hardly old enough yet to have lost
his awe of “cops,” and felt relieved when the officer showed himself
courteous and obliging. From what he had read of Chicago distances,
Harry would not have been surprised to have been told he must “go
fifteen miles south, then take a cable-car four miles west”; but their
destination proved to be not so very far away.
[Illustration: A STREET BRIDGE ACROSS THE CHICAGO RIVER, SWUNG OPEN FOR
THE PASSAGE OF BOATS.]
Another cable-car rattled them down to Van Buren Street, and they found
themselves, after a short walk, upon the dock awaiting the iron vessel
so aptly named “Whaleback.”
The boys were struck with her likeness, as she came close along the
dock, to some of the dug-out canoes they had seen at the great Fair.
They learned, however, from their friend the architect (whom they met
again on the pier) that the boat was seaworthy, carried a large cargo,
and was very fast, going even twenty-two miles an hour.
Going aboard, they found her divided into three decks, and very finely
fitted up. The second deck, which was even with the top of the hull,
had walks along the curved sides of the vessel; for these “tumbled
home” so as to be almost level.
In the cabin, Harry found a phonograph which was advertised to sing
his favorite “The Cat Came Back”; and he persuaded Mr. Douglass to
try it. The tutor’s face, as the song began, lost its usual quiet
expression, and soon he grinned quite as broadly as the small boy Harry
had sketched at the Fair. Then the boys paid another five cents, and
listened to a lively song called, “Drill, ye tarriers, drill” —wherein
were introduced sounds of blasting, the singing, the orders of the
boss, and all the features of work upon a railway excavation.
But they wasted only a few minutes in the cabin, for the view of
Chicago, as the boat steamed out, was well worth seeing. A few rays
of sunshine struggled luridly through the heavy pall of dusky smoke
that drifted over the city. Here and there great buildings or towers
rose above the rest, but the whole effect was soft and hazy. It was a
picture of the city that was sure to remain long connected in their
minds with the name Chicago.
[Illustration: FISHING FOR PERCH FROM THE BREAKWATER, CHICAGO.]
The trip was not a long one, but Harry found time to pick up
acquaintance with a young man from Indiana, and the two were soon
pronouncing words for each other’s amusement. He found Harry’s
slighting of the letter R very droll, and told the New York boy that
his mother had an aunt who was “a regular Yankee,” and said, “Why, I
could listen to her talking all day; it does sound so queer!” Harry
found the Indianian’s accent quite as strange, and said it reminded him
of peculiarities he had noticed in the speech of Virginians.
As they approached the long pier that extended out from the Fair
Grounds, Philip began to be uneasy.
“What’s the row, Phil?” Harry asked, noticing that his friend was
frowning rather fiercely; “are you sorry to get back?”
“The matter is this camera. I’ve got to take it through the grounds,”
Philip replied.
“I thought you had a permit for a week,” said Harry.
“So I have,” replied Philip ruefully; “but it is at the hotel. I took
the camera along this morning, hoping that the weather would clear up
so I could take something in the city; and I’ve been lugging it about
all day without getting anything to speak of. Now here I am with no way
to get to the hotel except by going through the Fair, and I haven’t got
a permit.”
“Whew!” Harry whistled. “Two dollars out!”
But when Mr. Douglass came up, he was inclined to think there would be
no trouble about the camera.
“I’ll tell you what I should do,” he said. “Just walk along boldly, and
if any one stops you, tell them the circumstances and then face the
music.”
[Illustration: THE GREAT FIRE AT CHICAGO, OCTOBER, 1871.]
Just as Philip was going through the gate, one of the ticket-takers
said, “Say, is that a kodak?”
“Yes,” said Philip, “it is.”
“Have you a permit for it?”
“Yes,” said Philip, “but it’s at my hotel. It’s good for a week, but
I didn’t bring it to-day”; and he went on to explain just how matters
stood, offering to do whatever was right. “But,” he said, “I’ll tell
you one thing—I don’t want to pay two dollars just to carry this camera
through the grounds on a cloudy day at five o’clock.”
[Illustration: THE WHALEBACK. UPPER DECK.]
“I should think not!” said the man, laughing good-humoredly. “I’ll find
the inspector and see what he says”; and he walked out along the dock.
In a few moments he came back saying, “It’s all right; take it in. The
inspector says he couldn’t let you if it wasn’t after four o’clock. You
won’t try for any pictures?”
“No,” said Philip, much relieved; and away he went, feeling that
honesty was the best policy.
Walking through the Court of Honor just at dusk, they were again
delighted with the appearance of the buildings in the soft evening
light. The Peristyle was especially artistic, for they saw through the
columns the heavy, curling black smoke of the “Whaleback,” as she set
out on her return trip to the city. The gilt decorations upon graceful
Machinery Hall shone brightly, and they had to stop and gaze around
them with renewed delight.
[Illustration: THE WHALEBACK. LOWER DECK.]
“Perhaps it is just as well that these buildings are not to be
permanent,” Mr. Douglass remarked, as they walked on. “We like them all
the better for knowing that they are, after all, mere bubbles of staff,
blown to delight the eyes for a little while. The architect whom we
met on the coach said to me, ‘Somebody hit the nail on the head when
he called these Fair buildings an architectural spree—it has been a
bit of fun for the architects to show in plaster what they could do in
marble; but why can’t some of our cities make a similar smaller show
in marble—say an ornamental building like this Peristyle, around a
harbor?’”
When they asked for the keys of their rooms, Mr. Douglass received also
a letter. “Ah!” he said, “here’s the letter from your father, Harry.
Come up into my room and we will read it.” The letter was as follows:
September 21, 1893.
DEAR MR. DOUGLASS: When I telegraphed this morning, I was afraid
you would think it strange unless I promised a letter. But now I sit
down to write, I feel there is little to add to my despatch. I know
Mr. Farwell will arrange business details, and that you will get
safely to the Fair. I am sure you will know that I do not expect you
to feed the boys on useful knowledge all the while you are in
Chicago; but I should like Harry to look carefully after two things.
I would like him to see the railroad exhibits, and to see the papers
about Columbus. The latter is important, because there will never be
so good a collection brought together again. The railroad exhibits I
should like him to see, because I wish him to learn what an amount
of skill and learning has gone into the modern railroad. Perhaps
then the business will attract him, and I shall expect him to take
it up when I must resign. As for Philip, he’ll learn more about the
Fair by himself than any one can teach him.
I think perhaps a fortnight should be enough to spend at Chicago;
but as to that, use your own discretion. I hope that all three of
you will enjoy the big show, and I’m sure you will be better
Americans for having seen it.
Tell Harry that his mother and I are well, and give him our love.
With warmest regards to Philip and best wishes for you all, I am
your obedient servant,
HENRY BLAKE. MR. JAMES DOUGLASS.
“That’s just what I thought,” said Harry. “He wishes me to get into
railroading, and that is one reason he sent me here. I see one thing;
I have got to go through the Convent again. I hardly looked at those
old documents.”
“We have a few days yet,” said Mr. Douglass; “we will certainly go
more carefully over those exhibits. I am glad to hear from your
father, though I know his ideas well enough to have been very sure of
his intention. I have still plenty of money, but I think that two
weeks will be enough to give to the Exhibition. One could not exhaust
it in years.”
[Illustration: THE WHALEBACK.]
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF FISHERIES PAVILION.]