The train was due at Chicago (December 2nd) at 9.45 a.m., being exactly
a 23 hours and 45 minutes' run from New York. Having crossed Chicago
from one terminus to another, I found that three trains left Chicago by
which I could travel to San Francisco--two were slow trains, and one a
fast train; but, by whichever train I went, it would make no difference
as to the time I left Omaha, and consequently no difference to the time
I should arrive at San Francisco, so I went on by one of the slow
trains, as I wanted to see Council Bluffs. This train was similarly
fitted to the other, except that it had no drawing-room car, nor
stenographer, etc., nor were the platforms connecting the carriages
enclosed; so that, in passing to the dining car, or any other car, the
sudden change from a hot car to a shower of snow was not pleasant. The
distance from Chicago to Omaha is 492 miles, and the country between the
two places formed a part of the great prairie region, which, 50 years
ago, had no other inhabitant than the Indian and the trapper, but now is
a succession of homesteads, villages, and towns, bearing evidence of
prosperity. At Creston, and many other stations, I noticed that there is
no protection whatever from the railway; the line is unfenced, and the
train runs through the town as openly as a coach would; there is
generally a rough board put up here and there with the words, crudely
painted on them, "Look out for the cars!" We were due at Council Bluffs
the next morning (December 3rd) at 7.23, but we arrived some half-hour
late. Council Bluffs Station is four miles from Omaha Station, but the
towns adjoin. The former has a population of over 35,000, and the latter
of over 110,000. They are divided by the great Missouri River, which is
crossed by two bridges, one being 2,750 feet long, and the other 2,920
feet long. Having had breakfast at the station, I went up to the town by
the "motor," that is, the electrical tram-car. The motor cars, like the
railway cars, are heated. I noticed a large number of detached wooden
cottages, "standing in their own grounds," of about one-eighth of an
acre, and I learned that these are owned by labourers. Mr. Day, an agent
there, told me that the cottage would cost 500 dollars, and the land 400
dollars, _i.e.,_ £100 for the house, and £80 for the land. An eighth of
an acre for £80 would be £640 per acre, and this quite out in the
suburbs; and I was told that good business blocks in the town itself
would fetch £32,000 (not dollars, but pounds) per acre. In the large
cities, such as New York, Chicago, etc., prices in the principal streets
would compare with prices in the City of London. Returning to the
station, I joined the express train, and crossing the Missouri River to
Omaha, we proceeded west. The river was frozen at its sides, and
presented no attractions worth notice. On we go through hundreds of
fields of maize, always called "corn" in America; other grain crops,
such as wheat, etc., are called by their own names, but the crop known
only as "corn" in America is maize. The rich clusters of corn are
gathered, and the stalks, something in appearance between a wheat stalk
and a sugar cane, are left standing for the cattle to pick over. Forty
years ago _this_ part was uninhabited by white men, and was the home of
countless buffaloes; now these animals are extirpated, and everywhere we
see nothing, for mile upon mile, but corn, corn, corn. One of my fellow
travellers was Mr. H.C. Jacobs, of Chicago, whose father-in-law was one
of the pioneers, and who gave me much information. The next day
(December 4th), we traverse the great rolling prairies of Nebraska, and
see many herds of horses and cattle, and here and there ranch homes and
cowboys.
Having run through Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska, we commence the State
of Wyoming as we pull up at the City of Cheyenne, where, in the far
distance, we see, with its peaks well clothed in snow, the grand range
of the Rocky Mountains. Soon after leaving Cheyenne, we commence the
ascent of the Rockies--not, of course, the actual summit range itself,
but the foot hills and high lands stretching away from, and forming part
of it--and as we climb the ascent terminating at Sherman, where we have
gained an elevation of 8,247 feet, we pass through very wild, grand
scenery. At this altitude we look down upon floating clouds, and see in
the distance Long's Peak, 14,000 feet high, towering above them. All
along, at intervals, are portable fences, placed to catch the snow as it
drifts, to prevent it blocking the line; and also what are called snow
sheds, which are rough timber tunnels built up to protect the rails from
the great drifts arising out of heavy snowstorms. At the highest point
is a pyramid, commemorating a certain Mr. Oakes Ames, which looked 20
feet high and very near the line; it is however, 75 feet high and
half-a-mile off. The air is so rarefied that distances are most
deceiving.
As our descent proceeds, we catch sight, in the distance, of a herd of
wild elk, and where these rolling prairies have better herbage, we see
herds of horses with ranch buildings here and there. We pass the ranch
of William Cody, who, by virtue of his being a Senator of the State of
Nebraska, is called Honourable, but who was known in London, a short
time ago, at Mr. Whitley's "Wild West" show as "Buffalo Bill." As we
pass Fort Laraime, one of the forts erected by the United States
Government as a protection against the Indians, I was told some stories
of Cody's exploits against the Indians. In former days, emigrants
traversing these great prairies to found a home in this Wild West, were
often harassed by Indians, and the soldiers at the fort had to protect
them. Buffalo Bill has been in many a skirmish, and, if rumour is true,
many redskins have succumbed to him; the Government took counsel with
him in all Indian difficulties in that part of the country, and the day
before I passed his ranch he had been sent for by the authorities that
they might confer with him as to the outbreak which then existed, and
which cost "Sitting Bull" his life. We passed a house cut clean in two
by the wind, great herds of horses and cattle, beautiful specimens of
the bald and other eagles and vultures, some deer, and a very fine grey
wolf about the size of a Newfoundland dog. The distant mountain
scenery at times is very grand, and everywhere snow-capped. The air is
very pure and keen. I much enjoyed the society of two fellow travellers
over this part of my journey, Mr. Lee, of General Lee's family, of
Virginia, and Mr. Hurley, Solicitor to the Directors of the line we were
traversing. We passed the "Divide of the Continent" at an altitude of
7,100 feet, which is the dividing line of the running of water; that
running east empties into the North Platte River, thence into the
Missouri, thence into the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean; that
running west empties into the Green River, thence into the Colorado,
thence into the Pacific Ocean.
In the early morning of December 5th we ran into Ogden, which is near
Salt Lake, at the base of the Wasatch Mountains, which are snow-capped,
and have some very fine peaks. Salt Lake is 126 by 45 miles, and on it
is situate the great City of the Mormons. On the more fertile parts of
the prairies I gathered, at Humboldt Wells, some of the sage grass which
used to be the food of the buffaloes when they existed; at other places
I gathered samples of herbage on less favoured soils. As we proceed, we
see an encampment of Indians with red paint on their faces, which was
put on to show sympathy with, and, if necessary, take part with other
tribes of Indians, then commencing a "war" with the United States
soldiers. This district was not far, as distances go in America from the
scene of action. Presently we commence our run through the great barren
alkali plains, emerging from which we get into a more fertile country,
and, at Cedar Pass, notice the great ranch of Messrs. Sparks and Tinnin,
who are reputed to have 100,000 head of cattle. Mr. Byrne, of Elko,
Nevada, also the owner of a large ranch, was on board the cars, and gave
me some useful information. He said that cattle raising is very
profitable, as they double in number every four years, _i.e._, a profit
of 25 per cent.; thus, if a man start with a 1,000 head of stock cattle,
he will have 4,000 head in four years.
If a thousand head of stock cattle were purchased off a ranch, they
would be sold just as they run, without any selection whatever--steers,
heifers, cows, calves, bulls, yearlings, both sexes and all ages, but
calves which still suck their mothers are not counted, and go for
nothing. Many head of cattle perish in the winter, when the land is
covered with snow, as on many large ranches no food is given them. I
urged that it would pay to have stock-yards and give food during the
snow time, and Mr. Byrne said that he always did so himself, and that
the great ranch men were having their eyes opened to this necessity.
We passed various other encampments of Indians, and far from any
encampment or habitation saw an Indian on the track carrying a small
light bundle, and following him a long way behind was his squaw,
labouring under a very heavy burden.
During this day we ran through ranges of uneven mountains, rising one
above another in broken undulations and with ever-varying tops, such as
table lands, sharp conical peaks, rounded heads, and broken
indentations.
The distant mountains are enveloped in snow, upon which gleams a
resplendent setting sun, presenting a prospect which only such a region
could produce. From the dazzling whiteness of one range we look upon the
dense darkness of another, as being out of the sun's influence. The
lights and shades, the gorges, the fissures, the striations in the range
upon range, with their intervals of plains and valleys, here and there
opening up peeps of great tracts of country, and then again shutting
all in to the circumference of their gigantic heads, interspersed with
the brilliance of rich gold, tingeing some tops and revealing dark
recesses, some ruby tints and fantastic shadows,--all combine to reflect
a glory which lifts the mind beyond the great heights of hills to a
height, greater still, whence originated all natural grandeur.
We had run through Utah and Nevada, and were now approaching the
northern part of California. In the very early morning of December 6th I
awoke and found that the train was at a standstill. Thinking that we
were at a station I tried to sleep again, but, finding that we continued
motionless, I went out on to the platform connecting our car with the
next and found all around was deep snow, and that another train on the
other metals had broken down, and that our men were apparently helping
to get it off. We were then two miles from Truckee, and at an elevation
of nearly 6,000 feet. After a long delay we got away and ran into
Truckee. The scenery on this day was also of a truly grand character:
precipices, declivities, chasms; and in one very romantic spot, of weird
and wild mountain sides, graduating to narrow gullies, with pine and
other trees, some perfect, others broken by the wind was one great
wreck of a forest monster--a tree rudely snapped asunder by wind or
lightning, about 40 feet from the ground, and stripped of every branch,
so that it looked like a broken column; on its top sat a great vulture
in the well-known attitude of its kind, as motionless as rock, and
apparently meditating on the incongruity of a noisy, vulgar bit of
machinery, with its train of cars, invading such a nook of Nature's
solitudes.
As we proceeded we came upon the succession of Placer gold diggings,
known as the hydraulic mines, which were then for the most part
abandoned, and these brought to my remembrance many similar spots I had
seen in Australia. The _débris_ of the mines had stopped up, or
diverted, or otherwise interfered with the Sacramento River, the Bear
River, and other rivers, to the great detriment of agriculture,
horticulture, stock rearing, etc., whereupon the State Legislature of
California passed an Act to prohibit all interference with the water,
for without water the miners could not wash their dirt, and so had to
abandon the diggings. All around this part, ravine followed ravine, with
beautiful vistas between, affording a continuous luxury of scenic
gratification. Presently we reached what is called by many the grandest
scenery on the American Continent, known as Cape Horn; it is where the
train winds round a mountain side, on a narrow ledge, and at such a
height, that to hold one's hand out of the window would be to hold it
over a sheer precipice of 2,500 feet. The train runs along the ledge or
narrow roadway cut in the face of the mountain rock, and all around is
presented a spectacle of the majesty of Nature, which only such a range
of mountains as the Sierra Nevada could produce.
About 14 miles from Truckee, we reach a station called "Summit," which
lies at an elevation of 7,017 feet, and is the highest point on the
Sierra Nevada Mountains reached by railroads, but the granite peaks rise
up to an altitude of over 10,000 feet. Grizzly bears, and other wild
creatures, find their homes in the recesses of these fastnesses. On
leaving these mountains we make a rapid descent, and in an hour feel
that we are in another country. At Colfax I bought fruit; at Arlington
the temperature was like summer. At Rockling Station I saw some very
fine orange trees, full of splendid fruit. Now we have entered the
fertile plains of North California, and run through cultivated lands,
till we reach Sacramento, the capital of the State. It is a great
change: from desert, alkaline plains, miles of snow sheds, snow-covered
mountains, a semi-civilization, and a freezing atmosphere, we find
ourselves in a warm, genial climate, cultivated farms, vineyards,
gardens, and orchards of nectarines, pears, apples, and the rest.
Arriving at Oakland, we crossed the Bay in the great ferry-ship, or
floating wharf, "Piedmont." The weather was charming--the bay dotted
about with islands and surrounded by hills. The temperature was the more
enjoyable from the fact that only a few hours before we were surrounded
by deep snow.
On arriving at San Francisco (on Saturday, December 6th), I went
straight to the Palace Hotel, and my first effort was to get a bath, for
a continuous day and night run from New York of 3,367 miles, makes one
who is accustomed to the use of plenty of water to look for a good
ablution as the first refresher. The Palace Hotel claims to be the
"model hotel of the world." Its architect visited the leading hotels of
Europe so as to produce a hotel superior to any. As to size, it occupies
a complete block--that is, it has a street traversing each side of it.
It rises to a height of 120 feet, and covers an area 350 feet by 275
feet--that is, 96,250 square feet, or nearly 2-3/4 acres, and, with
sub-sidewalk extensions, exceeds three acres. The lower story is 27 feet
high, the uppermost one 16 feet high. The foundation wall is 12 feet
thick, and the principal materials are stone, iron, brick, and marble.
Every partition wall throughout is stone and brick. It is fire and
earthquake proof, the walls being additionally tied by iron bands. It
has four artesian wells, yielding 28,000 gallons of water an hour, a
630,000 gallon reservoir, and tanks holding 130,000 gallons more. The
water is served by three large steam fire pumps, which throw the water
above the roof. There are five patent safety-catch hydraulic elevators
(or lifts). Immense precautions have been taken against fire. The
dining-rooms are 150 feet by 55 feet, and 100 feet by 50 feet. The
public rooms are very numerous, and are of immense size. The rooms for
guests are principally 20 feet by 20 feet; none are less than 16 feet by
16 feet; all are well furnished. The corridors are like streets--space,
elegance, solidity, and comfort are apparent everywhere; the whole being
lighted by gas and electricity. Each bedroom has a bath-room, with hot
and cold water services; w.c., coat-closet, and lavatory closet, with
hot and cold water services to itself, and which can only be used by the
occupant of the bed-room. The hotel, of course, has a barber's shop, and
as I expected my client to call I was anxious to get through my toilet
quickly; so I rang for one of the barber's assistants to come to my
bed-room to cut my hair preparatory to the bath. This did not take long,
and I asked the price, when, to my surprise, a dollar and a-half,
_i.e.,_ 6s. 3d., was required. I thought it was barbarism indeed!
I left San Francisco on Monday, December 8th, and during my short stay I
saw something of the town; but it was not the same place as I remembered
it from my two visits to it in 1862. It is full of life and activity,
has many wealthy men, 50 of whom, it is said, are millionaires. It has a
large number of grand buildings, fine shops, extensive markets,
beautiful private residences, and an immense development of electricity
for motion, light, sound, etc. The tram-cars run in constant succession
everywhere; but the most remarkable cars are those worked by an endless
cable. In the city are works with immense steam power, and from these
works endless cables revolve throughout the city, under the roads, in
various directions. In the bed of the tramway is a groove, under which
is the cable, revolving at a great speed. The driver of the car lets
down his grip, which tightly holds the cable, and, of course, the car
starts at full speed, and is carried along by the cable. When the driver
wants to stop, he lets go his grip on the cable and applies his brake.
Some of the hills in San Francisco are very steep, and the first
sensation in riding on the outside front seat, while going full speed
down a sharp declivity, is certainly novel, with no apparent motive
power, and no apparent means of stopping. The speed, of course, is
always the same, whether up or down hill, or on level ground. Telegraph
Hill is 394 feet high, Clay Street Hill 376 feet, and Russian Hill 360
feet. A San Francisco Sunday is painful to one accustomed to our English
ways; travelling in every form, and buying and selling are very
prevalent. The Y.M.C.A. have a large building there, and get large
meetings. I attended one gathering, which I addressed shortly.
San Francisco is described as having "the mildest and most equable
climate known to any large city in the world." January is the coldest
month, and the mean temperature then is stated to be 50°. September is
the hottest month, and the mean temperature then is stated to be 58°.
Thus only 8° difference between the coldest and warmest months, and the
average for the whole year is 54°.
San Francisco has a population of about 300,000 (including some 40,000
Chinese), is the principal city of the State of California, and the
principal commercial centre on the Pacific coast. I must not, however,
dwell longer on this part of my journey. On Monday, December 8th, I left
San Francisco with one of my clients, Mr. C.H. Huffman, for Merced, by
the 4 p.m train. The sun was shining gloriously, producing a charming
effect upon the placid waters of the Bay and its beautiful surrounding
hills.