SYRACUSE TO ROCHESTER.
Twenty-sixth Day.
_Camillus House_,
CAMILLUS, NEW YORK,
_June Third_.
Mounted in front of the Vanderbilt House, Syracuse, at four o'clock in
the afternoon. A large number of friends and acquaintances had assembled
to see me off, among them many G. A. R. comrades, including General
Sniper and Captain Auer; the latter a companion in Libby Prison during
the late war. Thomas Babcock, who had been acting as an assistant to my
advance agents, accompanied me as far as Geddes, and arranged to
co-operate with my brother and Mr. Farrington in preparation for my
lecture. In passing through this little suburb of Geddes, whose name by
the way, keeps in memory one of the prominent men of Onondaga County, my
attention was drawn to a fine building standing on a hill, overlooking
Syracuse. I learned that it was the New York Asylum for Imbeciles and
that the site, a magnificent sweep of upland, measuring fifty-five
acres, was donated by the city. I was stopped just west of here by a
thunder shower and took refuge under a tree. _Paul_ and I had waited for
storms to pass over before, and made excellent rainy-day friends. We
rather enjoyed resting under some shelter until the dust was well laid
and the air freshened. On our arrival at Camillus, myself and horse were
literally covered with mud, the result of _Paul's_ fright on the
approach of a train at a point where it was impossible to leave the
turnpike. We were trotting along quietly and had just turned a bend in
the road when the quick ear of the horse caught the distant rumbling of
wheels. In an instant he was on the alert, and when the swift express
came round the curve, made a sudden spring to the right, leaped a
rail-fence, and landed in a bog where the mud was two or three feet
deep. I managed to keep the saddle, but could not avoid the mire in
which we had haplessly fallen.
Twenty-seventh Day.
_Jordan House_,
JORDAN, NEW YORK,
_June Fourth_.
By an hour's close application to my bespattered garments, after
reaching the Camillus House, I found that I was ready to "turn in" for
the night. Started forward in the morning, the ride on this perfect June
day proving false the old saying that "Jordan is a hard road to travel."
This village was reached about noon and I was quite prepared for the
generous meal which was placed before me.
[Illustration: A FLOURISHING FARM.]
When the gnawings of hunger had been appeased I gave myself up to the
agreeable quiet of Sunday afternoon.
There was ample encouragement for such a course in this cosy little
retreat at the head of Lake Skaneateles, for there was not a sound from
store or mill while the people were taking their Sabbath rest.
This brief halt in the march forward was very agreeable, for it gave me
an opportunity to try my own powers of locomotion, so little used since
leaving Boston. It was a real luxury to stroll about the quiet lanes,
and scan the outlying fields from the standpoint of a modest pedestrian.
In the course of my rambles I came across some photographers from Auburn
who had been taking views of the scenery about here. Some of their
pictures were excellent.
Twenty-eighth Day.
_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 and _Paul_. 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. _Paul_ threw his head
forward, quietly and curiously watching their manoeuvers. He was
evidently amused, but there was no spirit to the 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 to _Paul_, 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.
[Illustration: AN OLD LANDMARK.]
Twenty-ninth Day.
_Newark House_,
NEWARK, NEW YORK,
_June Sixth_.
The journey along the line of the New York Central from Montezuma to
Newark, was an exciting one to me and _Paul_. 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
to _Paul's_ suspicion of the "iron horse." The climax of these escapades
was reached this morning, when _Paul_, 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.
Thirtieth Day.
_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 of _Paul's_ hoofs 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.