Travelling in generations past was an important event in one's life, but
now a journey across an ocean and a continent is a very commonplace
affair. Books of travel used to be read with avidity, but now that so
many persons travel, and the wires keep us in touch with all the world
every day, the history of a journey is a small event, and one which to
those not specially interested would scarcely perhaps be read;
nevertheless, as some of my readers may have to go over some of the
ground I have recently traversed, I have no doubt that a reference to my
journey to California and back would be of interest to them, and
therefore I will give up some time and space to the subject.
This little record of my journey may perhaps be better received if I
state that I am not a novice in travel, and that before I had turned
twenty-one years of age I had been to Australia (calling _en route_ at
Pernambuco in South America), and that while in Australia I visited
Melbourne, Sydney, Geelong, King George's Sound, besides various inland
towns and gold fields, including Bendigo, Castlemaine, Tarrangower,
Fryer's Creek, Forest Creek, Campbell's Creek, Tarradale, Maryborough,
etc., and various other places, and sheep and cattle stations. From
Australia I went to Aden (the inland town) and up the Red Sea to Suez,
returning to Australia, and thence to England. Since I commenced
business in England, in 1859, I went in 1862 to St. Thomas' in the West
Indies, thence to Aspinwall, across the Isthmus to Panama, thence to
Acapulco in Mexico, on to San Francisco in California, and thence to
Vancouver Island, returning by the same route as far as Aspinwall,
whence I went to New York. In 1865 I went on business to Russia.
Arriving at the ancient city of Pskov, I proceeded across country to the
estate of my client, the Count Bogouschefsky, at one time private
Secretary to the Emperor Nicholas (grandfather of the present Czar).
Some of these travels were attended with a good deal of adventure; but
my recent journey from England to California and back, 13,774 miles, in
six weeks (including all stoppages), was all work, for my time was
occupied continuously in reading up the country, learning from old
settlers, and making notes of what I saw, some of which I have found
room for in the following pages.
On November 22nd, 1890, I was at work in my office in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, whence a cab depositing me at Euston, the 10.10 express train
soon ran me down to Liverpool (201 miles), whence a steam "tender" took
me from the landing-stage to the Cunard steamship "Etruria," some two
miles off, where I was soon comfortably located in my "state room" (No.
42).
It was nearly 5 o'clock before we got away, and the next day found us at
Queenstown Harbour, where we lost considerable time in waiting for the
mail. At length the mail, which was a heavy one, was safely on board,
and off we went, head on to the Atlantic. During that night of the 23rd
we experienced a heavy gale; big seas broke over the forecastle, and
flooded the decks below, through the ventilators. The A.B.'s declined
venturing on the forecastle to unship these great ventilators, and so
the engines had to be slowed down, and the ship stopped; the ventilators
were then unshipped, and we proceeded. The night was a bad one, and the
next morning we had not got through it, and as a consequence the decks
were like lagoons; but presently we had run through it, or it had run
away from us, or had expended its energy, and we were in comparatively
smooth waters, and had a comfortable run to New York. Nothing of
particular interest occurred during the passage. I sought and found the
old American settlers amongst the passengers, and obtained from them all
the information I could of the country, and especially the State to
which I was going. I read "General" Booth's "Darkest England," and wrote
a review of it, which duly appeared in the "Land Roll."
The "Etruria" is a fine ship. She has a commodious saloon, music and
reading room, plenty of deck space for exercise, comfortable cabins,
bath rooms, etc.
On the 29th we made Sandy Hook Lighthouse, which is about 20 miles from
New York Dock, but we got in too late for the Custom-house officers to
look at our baggage, so we lay all night in the harbour, and next
morning commenced the tedious process of creeping up, yard by yard, into
our berth at the dock. The run from Liverpool was thus:--Liverpool to
Queenstown, on the 22nd and 23rd, 240 miles; 24th, at noon, 330 miles;
25th, 454; 26th, 462; 27th, 475; 28th, 480; 29th, 471; distance to
Sandy Hook Lighthouse, 130 miles; so that the run totals up to 3,042,
and with the 20 miles added, 3,062 miles.
I had been recommended by a passenger to go to the Hotel St. Stephen, 46
to 52, East Eleventh Street, New York, whence I drove in a cab perhaps a
mile and a half, for which the cabman wanted 2 dollars (equal to 8s.
4d.); he got 1-1/2, which was half-a-dollar too much. Passengers should
drive to their hotel, and then ask the proper fare before paying. New
York has many large hotels--this is comparatively a small one. All the
waiters are coloured men, and this seems pretty general throughout
America.
I stayed over the 30th (Sunday) in New York, by which I secured a quiet
day and an opportunity to attend Divine service. In my bedroom was a
coil of stout Manilla rope screwed into the floor, near a window, so
that an escape might be secured in the event of fire. The towels
provided are a kind of compromise between a duster and a pocket
handkerchief--rather disappointing to one accustomed to his "tub." New
York is great in tram-cars, worked by horses, mules, and electricity,
also elevated railways--that is, railways running down the streets on
huge tressels or scaffolding--so that the vehicles go underneath them,
and the passengers in the train look straight into the first-floor
windows of the houses on the other side. There is an immense development
of electricity all over America, and in tram-cars, railway-cars, hotels,
houses, everything and everywhere, is the electric light prominent. Many
of the streets are unevenly paved. Blacking boots is a profession in
America--in many hotels a special charge is made for it, or else the
visitors are left to their own devices thereon--and boot-blacks have
shops and nooks fitted with high, huge easy chairs, elevated like
thrones, where their clients can comfortably repose during the operation
of polish.
The next morning, December 1st, I was up early, and made enquiries at
the various offices representing the railway lines to Chicago, with the
result that I took a ticket by the Pennsylvania route, and left New York
at 10 o'clock a.m. The train service between New York and Chicago is one
of the best, if not _the_ best, in America. The cars are elegantly
fitted; they are about the length of the Pullman cars we have in
England. The best cars are those fitted with sleeping accommodation, and
travellers having tickets for a "sleeper" have the privilege of using
the sleeping car during the day. The sleeping cars are divided into
squares capable of seating four persons, but the space is accorded to
two only, as only two beds or berths can be made up in the space; the
lower berth (which is always the favourite) is formed of the two double
seats (the space for four seats), filled up in the centre by special
fittings and mattresses, hidden during the day inside the seats; the
upper berth is pulled down from the sloping roof of the car, and in the
receptacle between the slope and the square are contained the bedding
and the fittings. A curtain falls down over both the upper and lower
berths, and, so far as one can, the dressing has to be done with the
curtain hanging round one as one stands within it; and if on both sides
of the car passengers happen to stand behind their respective curtains
at the same time, they would touch one another and so block the
passage-way. The dressing accommodation is so inconvenient that only
partial undressing is adopted. The outside of the slope is polished
mahogany, and in the daytime bears no indication whatever of what it
really is, but looks like a handsome sloping polished mahogany roof.
These cars are luxuriously fitted. Another car on the train is a
handsome dining saloon, with kitchen attached, where you can order as
good a dinner as you could obtain at an hotel. The cars are also fitted
liberally with lavatories and water-closets, separate ones for ladies
and for gentlemen. On this train is also a bath-room and a barber's
shop. There are also one or two small private rooms, which can be hired
separately. This train has also a recent addition, being what is called
a drawing-room or observation car; this is the last on the train, and
the end is fitted with glass, so that in riding along passengers in this
car enjoy an uninterrupted view of the country they are leaving behind.
On this special train a ladies' maid is provided for the convenience of
ladies, and a stenographer, with his type-writing machine, occupies a
seat in the vestibule of the drawing-room car to take down any urgent
letters which business men may desire to post _en route_. The
observation car is supplied with a library for the use of passengers,
and is fitted with plate-glass windows and easy chairs. It has a
platform where one can breathe the fresh air outside if desired. There
is also a smoking-room car. On this special train the Stock Exchange
reports of the New York and Philadelphia Exchanges are received and
posted on the bulletin boards three times a day, and the weather reports
are also posted. The whole of the train is thoroughly well heated by
steam pipes, and lighted by electricity. The person in charge of a
"sleeper" car is called the "porter;" he occupies a position, not like a
porter on an English railway, but analagous to a steward on board ship.
On leaving New York I noticed that the suburbs contained many very small
wooden houses, and the country had the appearance of many Colonial
scenes I have witnessed--the land looked like reclaimed prairie, which
it probably is; and after passing many homesteads and villages we ran
into Philadelphia at 12.20. Philadelphia is the largest city, as to
area, in the United States. It is situate on the west bank of the
Delaware River. It is 22 miles long, and from 5 to 8 broad, comprising
an area of 1,294 square miles. It has over 900 miles of paved streets.
Philadelphia was founded by the celebrated William Penn, who went from
England to America in 1682 A.D., and purchased the site of this great
city from the Indians. William Penn's character was remarkable for his
high sense of honour, and if the same principle had obtained throughout
the history of the United States with the Indians, we should never have
heard of any "Indian Difficulty." Penn presented the city with a charter
in 1701. The city, built upon lands honestly and liberally bought from
the Indians, prospered greatly, and its population continued to increase
until it now reaches something approaching 900,000. Its chief source of
wealth is from its manufactures, which embrace locomotives, and all
kinds of ironware, ships, carpets, woollen and cotton goods, shoes,
umbrellas, and books. It has more buildings than any other city in that
country, and, in point of commerce, ranks fourth among the cities of the
United States. I noticed that the suburbs of Philadelphia contained many
handsome stone and brick residences. I felt much interested in the
connection with William Penn, because he is one of the ancestors of the
Penn-Gaskells of England, who for many years have been valuable and
much-respected clients of mine, and in numerous transactions I have
noticed in them that beautiful trait of strict honour which gave William
Penn a world-wide character, and has descended from him to them.
Passing by many farm homesteads, villages, and towns, all having a
prosperous kind of appearance, and described as "one of the richest
agricultural districts in America," we ran into Harrisburg, which is the
capital of Pennsylvania, and situate on the east bank of the Susquehanna
River. About five miles above Harrisburg we crossed the Susquehanna
River on a bridge 3,670 feet long, from the centre of which I am told
there is a fine view, but I lost it, as a snowstorm was raging while I
was crossing.
We stopped at Altoona, a large city lying at the foot of the
Alleghanies, and in ascending the Alleghanies fine scenery and great
engineering feats are discernible. From this we ran on to Pittsburg,
which claims to be the best lighted city in America, the streets being
brilliantly illuminated by arc and incandescent electric lights. Nine
bridges cross the Allegheny, and five the Monongahela rivers. Pittsburg
has been called the "iron city," and "smoky city"; it has immense glass,
steel and iron manufactures, and in these three interests alone employs
over 50,000 persons.
Then we proceed till, presently, we catch sight of Lake Michigan, and
know that Chicago is not far off. We skirt the shore of this busy water,
with its wharves, etc. On arrival (December 2nd) we drive through the
city from the Pennsylvania to the North-Western terminus.
Chicago is 912 miles from New York: it is the greatest city in Illinois,
and during the past 50 years has grown from a small Indian trading
station into a metropolis. Chicago extends some 20 miles along the
shores of Lake Michigan, and goes back from the lake to a depth of about
four miles, thus embracing about 80 square miles; beyond these confines
of the city proper the suburbs extend to some 6 to 10 miles in every
direction. It will be remembered that in 1871 Chicago had a great fire,
which burned an area of 3-1/8 square miles, destroyed 17,450 buildings,
made 98,500 persons homeless, and killed outright about 200 more. The
loss of property was estimated at 190,000,000 dollars, of which only
30,000,000 dollars were recovered from insurances, and this bankrupted
some of the insurance companies. In 1874 another fire consumed 5,000,000
dollars' worth of property. Chicago is the great central depôt for
grain, lumber and live stock. In 1888 there were packed at Chicago
4,500,000 hogs, and about 1,600,000 cattle. Chicago has also extensive
iron, steel, wheel, car, flour, furniture, boot and shoe and tannery
manufactures. In driving through I noticed one long street, to the right
and left of the street I was traversing, thickly occupied with
tradesmen's carts, backed on the kerb in the usual fashion, being loaded
from the stores (or shops): there must have been a few hundred of them;
I never saw so many in one street at one time anywhere in any part of
the world. Chicago was cased in frozen snow, and thus was not very
attractive; but I noticed many very fine buildings, and was much struck
with the cosmopolitan character of the inhabitants. During the interval
of waiting for the train on the North-Western to start I was able to see
a little of the place, and found that some persons I spoke to could not
speak English. They came apparently from all parts of the continent of
Europe.