"With the fingers of the blind
We are groping here to find
What the hieroglyphics mean
Of the _unseen_ in the _seen_.
What the thought which underlies
Nature's masking and disguise,
What it is that hides beneath
Blight and bloom, and birth and death."
We left St. Louis with its noble depot and stupendous bridge, and reaching
Iron Mountain we seemed to have emerged from dense darkness into dazzling
light. Going to the clean, elegant hotel, our faces, covered with St.
Louis soot, were in such grim contrast with our sunny surroundings, that
we had to go through an elaborate course of ablution before we could feel
ourselves presentable. Iron Mountain is a _monster_ mass of iron, one of
the largest and purest of the kind in the world. In 1836 it was bought
for the insignificant sum of six hundred dollars, and now its worth is
incalculable.
Being unwilling to brave mud and small towns, we made no stops until we
reached Little Rock, Arkansas, where, at the untimely hour of three
o'clock in the morning, we went to the Central House, the only hotel which
had survived their recent fires, and which we found so crowded that even
the doors were closed against us.
Our party of five went out in quest of shelter, the night pervaded by "the
blackness of darkness," and the rain pouring in torrents. One of the
gentlemen was a member of the Legislature, and quite an invalid. Growing
faint from exhaustion, he fell into a mud hole, and was fairly immersed in
its slimy depths. After a long search we finally found a poor refuge and
an execrable bed, but in the morning were favored in securing comfortable
private accommodations.
While at Little Rock we visited all the State institutions, and among them
that for the blind. After ten days of business success, we went to all the
towns on the Arkansas River, and were charmed with its scenery, for while
the classical meander, it winds in graceful beauty through forests which,
although too low and ragged to please the eye, clothe a country otherwise
picturesque in character. A strange peculiarity of the Arkansas River is
that of the emerald green color which deeply tinges its crystal clearness,
a fact which I found no one able to explain satisfactorily.
Fort Smith is nominally at the head of river navigation, but is really
accessible by steamer only during a very small portion of the year, when
the water is at an unusually high stage. It is beautifully located, and
has a main street known as "The Avenue," which is between two and three
hundred feet in width. This avenue is a great business centre, and at
almost all times a scene of animated interest, while at its head stand
prominently a cathedral and a convent.
The swift passing panorama of the avenue is ofttimes varied by a
picturesque group of Chocktaws or Cherokees, with grotesque costume, this
place being their principal rendezvous. Just at the edge of the town is a
National Cemetery of great natural beauty, with but little of the stiff
regularity which usually characterizes such places.
We found a great lack of educational advantages throughout the entire
State of Arkansas, there being no public schools, and the private ones few
in number and poor in character; but it has never been my good fortune to
meet kinder hearts than were encountered among the masses.
At Arkadelphia we had a regular Arkansas deluge, and the first class hotel
of this flourishing town of two thousand souls would indeed have been a
poor ark for Father Noah and his family. Its walls were lathed but not
plastered, and from our apartment we had an extended view of the entire
floor.
Our furniture consisted of two wooden chairs, a box turned upside down for
a toilet-stand, a rickety bedstead, with unmusical creak, a tumble-down
lounge, and dismal, but genuine tallow dip. In these quarters we spent
four days, during which time the rain poured with unremitting constancy.
In the parlor of the same edifice was an elegant piano, and magnificently
dressed ladies, and our constant amazement was, how, in this strange
country, extremes could so amicably meet.
I found in Arkadelphia two blind gentlemen, who were prosperous merchants;
and to me, this spoke volumes for a community who would so generously
sustain the afflicted rather than allow them the condescension of beggary.
We next visited Hope, a town of three thousand inhabitants, yet having
numbered but three years of existence; and while these people are
considered so slow in progression, this fact indicated a considerable
degree of Yankee go-a-head activity. This town is one of the important
cotton markets of the State, which branch of trade imparts an additional
business activity.
We turned toward Hot Springs, the Baden of America, and when within twenty
miles of this wonderful place we encountered a throng of that class of
human pests known as "hotel runners," thick as bees, and more stingingly
annoying, for they especially abounded in low jests and ribald stories
which grate so harshly upon sensitive ears. It would certainly be an act
of philanthropy, both to the hotels and their patrons, to take some
measure for the suppression of this nuisance.
The approach to Hot Springs, and the first glimpse of the stream, smoking
as if its bed rested upon some subterranean fire, are in themselves
awe-inspiring. The valley is narrowed to the limits of three hundred feet,
and the road winds gracefully around the base of the mountain, upon whose
top the cold spring furnishes a better beverage than iced champagne; while
close by its side bubbles the boiling spring, in which eggs can be cooked
to perfection; and with a little seasoning of salt and pepper, the most
luscious soup can be improvized, while the boiling water _au naturale_ can
be drunk in copious, life-giving draughts.
The hotels are ranged upon either side of the road, and have all the
necessary bathing appointments. Among the many novelties to a stranger was
the process of dressing chicken, which was their staple article of food.
The hot stream was the only necessary cauldron for the scalding process,
while the feathers were thrown into the swift current, and rapidly carried
away by the natural sewerage, a decidedly labor-saving process, and
somewhat characteristic of the locality and its native cooks.
The various forms of treatment consist of hot, cold, vapor and mud baths,
and have been so often described that a repetition would be monotonous;
their efficacy being almost unfailing, except in cases of pulmonary
disease, in which they would soon prove fatal. One who has ever enjoyed
these baths will always long for the luxury years after leaving them
behind.
We reluctantly left this valley, teeming with rich quarries of valuable
stone and various ores, luscious fruits, and the trifling drawbacks of
rattlesnakes, centipedes and tarantulas, and went to Texaskana, which is
located at the junction of the three States of Texas, Arkansas and
Louisiana, hence its name.
It is a great railroad centre, and it is very curious to visit the depot
amid the rushing thousands who daily pass through this place on their way
to Texas. It is a wildly romantic place, built upon a clearing of forty
acres without any decided plan, streets running at random very much like
the old cowpaths of Manhattan, and houses grouped in picturesque
confusion. Finding the main hotel crowded, the proprietor manifested an
unheard-of disinterestedness in a two hours search to find us suitable
accommodations elsewhere, an act of magnanimity worthy of especial note
and remembrance.