MODERN WATER TRAVEL.
James Greenleaf arrived in Duluth, one bright June day, four hundred
and five years after the discovery of America. For nearly forty years
he had been a missionary among the Indians of the British Northwest,
but he had finally been persuaded to take a well-earned rest. Leaving
his little settlement of red men, and taking a canoe, he had paddled
up stream, carried his canoe over a portage, and paddled down a river
until he reached Lake Superior, where a small sailboat had taken him to
the flourishing city at the western end of the lake.
At the hotel he found, as he expected, his nephew, Henry Towne. Mr.
Towne was a commercial traveler, always "on the road," as he would
say, for a large furniture establishment in New York. In a letter to
his uncle he had stated that business would call him to Minnesota at
just that time, and that he would make the journey with his uncle from
Duluth to New York.
The next day the two men started. The nephew had made all the necessary
arrangements, having purchased tickets and engaged staterooms on the
line of steamboats that connect Duluth with Buffalo. The first sight of
the steamboat caused Mr. Greenleaf to exclaim at its size.
"It is not much like the steamboat that I took on the Hudson in the
spring of 1856," he said. "I imagine, however, that I shall see greater
differences than this, the further I go."
As the two men made a tour through the steamboat, the older gave
expression to his thoughts in many ways.
"We did not have the saloon in those old days, when I did my traveling.
Whenever we did not care to remain on the open deck there was no parlor
to which we could go. No orchestra helped to while away our hours. No
piano or organ added the charm of music to our journey."
"But you had a state room to which you could retire," replied his
companion, as they came to the rooms numbered 240 and 242, which
numbers were on the keys that they had obtained at the purser's.
"Yes," said his uncle, "a tiny room, six feet by six, with narrow
little berths, and two small stools. I can assure you that it was
nothing like these comfortable sleeping rooms, brilliantly lighted,
with regulation beds, convenient toilet arrangements, and carpeted
floors. However, I do not imagine that the machinery will let me sleep
any better now than then."
The next morning, as the travelers went down to breakfast, the younger
man asked, "Well, uncle, how did you sleep?"
"Never better," was the reply. "I tell you, Henry, I want to look at
the machinery, after breakfast. It must be somewhat unlike the engine
of my day, or the boat, large though it is, would have more of a jar."
When the two men stood above the mammoth engine and noted the smooth
working parts, the regular and even motion of the great piston rods in
and out of the cylinders, the quietness and gentleness with which each
movement took place, the uncle said: "More improvements have been made
on the engine of forty years ago than had then been made on that of the
_Clermont_. And we used to think that the steamboats of our day were as
much superior to Fulton's boat as his was ahead of Fitch's steam-moved
paddles."
We cannot take note of all the novel sensations that came to the old
missionary, nor can we pause to relate many of the conversations
between the two men. We can record a few only of the greater changes
which were discussed as they continued their journey, and mention some
of the comments called forth by the scenes through which Mr. Greenleaf
was passing.
On the afternoon of the second day the steamboat passed through the
locks of the canal at Sault Ste. Marie.
"Uncle," remarked the drummer, "how does this canal compare with the
Delaware and Hudson canal, with which you were familiar?"
"How can they be compared?" replied his uncle. "That was a long trench,
hardly more than a scratch on the surface of the ground. This is broad
and deep, though not long."
"Yes," said Mr. Towne, "but there is no new principle here. This canal
is somewhat wider and deeper; its locks and gates are somewhat larger.
Still it is only a canal."
"But we could not make such a hole in our day. We could not afford to
hire men enough to dig it; it must have required many years to make
this excavation."
"Oh; this canal was not made as large as this when it was first built.
It has been enlarged since. But you know that we do not do all our
digging now by hand. Steam shovels do the work for us. That gives us a
great advantage over the day laborer with his pick and shovel."
"What strikes me as most noticeable," said Mr. Greenleaf, "is the
number of vessels waiting on both sides of the lock. What causes such a
crowd to-day, particularly?"
"This is no unusual number," replied Mr. Towne. "You do not realize
what a traffic there is on the great lakes. It is stated that the
tonnage passing through this canal is greater than that through any
other strait on the face of the globe. This growth is very recent and
very rapid."
"But what causes the traffic and where are all the vessels going?"
asked the missionary.
"The great bulk of the freight," answered the younger man, "is grain
from the Northwest, and iron, copper, coal, and lumber, now being
obtained in vast quantities south of Lake Superior. So long as the
steamboats can carry freight more cheaply than the steam cars, grain
and ores will take this route. Sometime we shall have canals large
enough for ocean steamers, which will connect the great lakes with the
Atlantic Ocean. Then we can load our freight at Chicago or Duluth and
not change it until it is unloaded at some English or European port."
The next day, as the steamboat was lying at the wharf at Detroit,
conversation was turned to the great ferryboats plying across the river.
"I notice great changes in the steam ferries, since last I crossed the
North River at New York," remarked Mr. Greenleaf.
"Yes," was the reply, "but you see only improvements. The ferryboats
are larger and you might almost say clumsier; that is all."
"I do not think so," returned the missionary. "There must be some new
invention to enable entire trains, with cars filled with passengers, to
be carried across such a river as this."
"Of course," said his nephew, "the boat must be strong and large.
However, the ferry docks have been improved. Now, when the boat is
fastened, the wharf can be raised and lowered, until it is exactly on
the level of the boat. Then not only passengers, but wagons and steam
cars can pass from one to the other almost without knowledge of the
change."
"How far have these cars come that I see on the ferry?"
"That," said the drummer, "is one of the through trains from Montreal
to Chicago. The ferryboat next beyond, going the other way, bears a
train containing cars bound for New York and Boston."
"Well, well! This is convenient," said the missionary. "The passengers
are saved much trouble by not being required to gather up all their
traveling bundles, leave the cars for the boat, and the boat for a new
set of cars. We should have thought this a great gain, forty years ago."
"But do you realize what an inconvenience this ferry causes? Much time
is wasted, not only because of the slow movement of the boats, but also
from the necessary delays in embarking and disembarking the cars."
"Yes, I suppose so. But what would you do? Here is the river and it is
too wide for a bridge."
"Oh, no!" replied Mr. Towne. "The bridge could be built, but it would
be expensive and would not pay. But what do you think of a tunnel?"
"A tunnel? What do you mean?" said the other man, with a touch of
surprise in his voice for the first time. "A tunnel? Where? Not under
the river?
"Yes," answered his nephew, "a tunnel under the river. There is one,
a few miles north, at Port Huron. There the train, instead of being
delayed hours by the ferry, passes at almost full speed directly under
the river, proceeding on its way as though the river were not there."
"Is not that something new?" asked Mr. Greenleaf.
[Illustration: A RIVER TUNNEL.]
"Yes. It was opened only a half-dozen years ago. It is said to be the
greatest river tunnel in the world. It is a little over a mile long
and is fifteen feet below the bed of the St. Clair River. Half a mile
of it is directly under the water, yet no one passing through it would
realize that it was different from any one of the hundreds of tunnels
through which the railroads of this country pass. It is but a natural
following out of such tunnels as the five-mile tunnel under the Hoosac
Mountains in Massachusetts, or the three-quarter-mile tunnels in Jersey
City, or the score of tunnels on the line of the Southern Railway over
the Blue Ridge in North Carolina. It is a great tunnel to-day, of
course, but when the North River tunnel is finished, from New York to
Jersey City, this will be of little account in comparison."
Detroit was soon left, Lake Erie was reached, and night came on. The
next morning the steamboat reached its journey's end at Buffalo. Our
friends hastened across the city and were soon seated in a sleeper, on
the train for New York.