The train reached Merced at 10.23 on Monday night, December 8th, 1890,
where I was met, and in a spacious family buggy, drawn by a pair of good
horses, I was very soon at the residence of my client, Mr. C.H. Huffman.
The continuous day and night travelling by rail, and the taking of
voluminous notes all along, had caused a constant excitement which told
upon the nerves, and for two days I felt as though I needed absolute
rest, but, remembering that I had already been long absent from my
office, I commenced my work at Merced the next morning. The town of
Merced is the capital of the county of that name; it is not many years
old, but it has a striking difference to many new small towns I have
seen in the Colonies, in that it has several very good buildings and
residences. It has seven churches and chapels of various denominations,
some good shops, medical men, society, schools, gas, water, electricity,
and a station on the main Great Southern Pacific Railway. It is
undoubtedly a town which must rapidly increase in value, for this
reason: My clients, Messrs. Crocker and Huffman, at a cost of some two
million dollars, have tapped the Great Merced River 25 miles off, and
brought water down to the town and irrigated the country round. They
have formed a reservoir 640 acres in extent. Hitherto the rich lands
around the town of Merced have not been irrigated, and consequently were
not suitable for growing the Fruits for which California is so famous;
but, now that a system of canals, formed by my clients, has irrigated
their estate, extending over some 50,000 or 60,000 acres, the whole of
this great area is changed in value, and is available, and will
eventually be used, for the production of choice Fruits. Thus, Merced
will become a centre, like other parts of California, and, being so much
nearer than those other parts to San Francisco, will benefit
additionally by that advantage alone. Merced is only 152 miles from San
Francisco, while Fresno is 207, Bakersfield 314, and Los Angeles, 483
miles. It is rumoured that another line of railway will also be formed
in connection with the present main line, and Merced would then be an
important railway junction. I drove out every day with Mr. Huffman, and
inspected the country for some miles around the town, including the
Merced River, 25 miles off. The land designated British Colony, is, at
its commencement, only two miles from the Merced Railway Station, hotel,
and shops. Mr. Huffman has a most comfortable residence, and has
excellent stables, well filled with first-class buggy horses, so that
travelling was always an easy matter. Being a lay preacher in England, I
took advantage of offers made me, and preached on the Sunday I was at
Merced in two of the churches at the morning and evening services.
I left Merced on Tuesday night, December 16th, by the 10.23 train,
having stayed there eight days. I immediately "turned in," and next
morning (December 17th) was up as usual at 6.30, and much enjoyed the
splendid scenery through which we were passing--in a mountainous
country, grandly diversified with all the alternations of heights and
depths, lights and darks, rich and barren, including many evidences of
engineering skill--as we coursed along, now looking high up, now looking
low down, and presently winding along the celebrated "loop," described
as the "greatest engineering feat in the world," by which the train goes
through mountain passes, creeping along the tops of eminences, then
returning, crosses under itself at a low level, then, ascending, crosses
over itself at a higher level, so that in its meandering course you now
look down at your side on the line you have just traversed, and anon
look up at your side at the line you are about to traverse. We passed
through the Mojava (pronounced Moharvie) desert, where the yucca palm is
plentiful. A fellow passenger, and old settler, enlivened the time by
some relations of his experiences thus: He once shot a grizzly bear
which weighed 1,500 lbs. Some are much larger than this. Everything of
weight in America is generally reckoned by pounds, not cwts. or tons. On
another occasion he slew a Californian lion. He had killed a bullock,
and the carcase was hanging in his house at the back, where was an
aperture like a small window without glass, and under this opening
outside stood an empty case. The lion scenting the carcase, and hearing
no sound from within, approached the house, and was endeavouring to
creep through the aperture when, in its efforts to do so, it kicked the
case away, and the poor animal was stuck fast, having its head and
shoulders inside. My fellow traveller, on returning home, was surprised
to find his visitor, and so despatched him with an axe, and has for
years used the skin, which is 9 feet 8 inches long. The temperature was
charming, although in the distance we could see the snow-capped
mountains. We run through the antelope valley, gather some juniper
plant, see a skunk, see natural oil wells at Saugus, pass the head of
the Santa Clara Valley, see the San Fernando mountains, go through the
greatest tunnel in America--the San Fernando tunnel, 6,967 feet long,
go by Burbank, where there is a land boom, and arrive at Los Angeles,
where during the two hours of waiting I have a look at the town and a
pleasant chat with Mr. White Mortimer, the British Consul, whom I called
upon. The next day (December 18th) we were on the desert of Arizona,
where we saw Indian camps at places which were somewhat oases as to
plant life. Speaking generally, nothing grows on a great part of this
desert but cactus, of which I am told there are some 200 varieties, from
the dwarf kind to trees 40 feet high. This plant has a strange if not a
weird appearance. Here and there, like solitary sentinels, stands out a
tall cactus, with perhaps two or three heads or branches, growing
perpendicularly with itself. The mountains on either side look as if
they had their origin in volcanic eruptions.
Some parts of the desert are covered with a dwarf kind of evergreen
shrub. We see large numbers of prairie dogs, which are of a size between
a rat and a rabbit; they live in holes like rabbits. There are also
gophers, skunks, prairie rats, rattlesnakes, and hawks, which feed on
snakes and rats. We pass tribes of Yuma Indians, Aztec Indians and Gila
(pronounced Heela) Indians. On reaching a part where is some grass we
see some cattle, which are straying on the line; the engine whistle
shrieks, the cattle run, and some coyote wolves are startled from their
lairs and run, too; large numbers are here, and the preceding night
their yells aroused some passengers from sleep. As we proceed, quail are
seen, and wild cats something like a lynx. Arriving at Tucson
(pronounced Tewsohn), I enquired for a gentleman to whom I had an
introduction, but learned that he was up at his gold mine. This Tucson
is an ancient city, having been founded by the Jesuits in 1560 A.D. It
does a large business in exporting gold dust, wool, and hides. I expect
that these mountains of Arizona contain much value in minerals. The
Indians in this part of the country are the Apaches, and were described
to me as the most treacherous of all the American Indians, that they are
cowardly and will never fight in the open. A gentleman who entered the
train at Tucson gave me many instances of this. In the evening we saw
"cow-boys" round their fire camping out in the open, and also a camp of
freighters resting on their journey across the desert. The next morning
early (December 19th) we arrived at El Paso, a most interesting Mexican
town situate on the borders of Old Mexico, New Mexico and Texas, where I
bought the skin of a Mexican tiger, and other things.
In travelling for some days in a train continuously one feels the need
of exercise, and this I obtained by getting in and out of many of the
railway stations and walking up and down. Between San Francisco and New
Orleans there are 322 stations, and I should suppose the number of
stations on both the Northern and Southern routes I traversed would
probably amount to nearly 700.
We are now commencing to cross the great plains of Texas. At first the
plains are desert, with mountains skirting our view; the scenery is less
interesting than the Arizona desert, because there are no cacti. This
desert has probably been under salt water at some time. The rocky hills
appear to have a volcanic origin. As we go on, we reach a poor kind of
pasture, growing out of a scrubby kind of shrub, with some occasional
cacti, many hills and mountains like barren rocks, with not a bird or an
animal to be seen. The weather has been warm since leaving Merced, but
now, so far south as we are, it is hot on this December day. I had read
in the short telegrams given by American papers, that the winter was
very severe in England, and I pictured often to myself, friends and
clients in England muffled up amidst frost and snow, whilst I was
revelling in glorious sunshine, so warm that no greatcoat could be worn.
Had I returned by the route I went (the Northern Prairies), I might have
been delayed by snow drifts, but by this, the Southern route, there was
no snow, but a continuous, cheerful, delightful sunshine, not too hot
anywhere, but simply delightful. I should certainly recommend anyone
going from England to California in the winter season, to go by the
Southern route. Amongst the objects of interest, we notice in the
distance a small herd of 14 wild antelope trotting along; cattle, coyote
wolves, and, at many places, the well-picked bones of animals which had
dropped dead, or, when weak, had been killed or eaten by carnivora or
reptiles. We saw large numbers of prairie dogs; they sit outside their
holes like a squirrel, on their haunches, with their fore paws up; they
are very quick, and most difficult even to shoot. More antelopes and
coyotes. At a station called Alpine were several cowboys, all armed with
revolvers and cartridge belts, and some with dagger knives too; their
mustangs were hitched up close by. These cowboys are some old and some
young men, some wild and some cultivated, some never educated, some have
gone through Harvard, or Oxford, or Cambridge, some the sons of English
county gentlemen and noblemen--but all cowboys, _i.e.,_ men who live on
ranches where large herds of cattle or horses are bred, and whose duty
it is to ride over the wild rough country to know where the herds of
cattle and horses are feeding, so that if they need to be ridden up for
cutting or branding, or selling, they may be found. I was told that this
was one of the "hardest" places for a cowboy, _i.e.,_ one of the
wickedest, meaning that when they visit it, it is for a "spree," and
they get drunk, and fights and murders follow. I was pointed to a little
cemetery on a hill, enclosed by a white fence, and was told that it
contained 150 bodies, and that only 50 had died a natural death; the
others had been shot or otherwise murdered in drunken frays and other
ways. Many strange little histories were told me about these men, but
which I have no time to record here. In some parts of the country where
water was very scarce, there seemed to be no vegetation, and the cattle
seemed to wander solitarily along, a mere heap of hide and bone. At
many stations I had quite a considerable interval for running about,
such as when a wheel caught fire, which happened two or three times, or
some freight had to be taken in, or taken out, etc. When the train again
starts, the conductors shout "All aboard," and there is a general rush.
The next day (December 20th) was again a brilliant day of sunshine; we
see many buzzards, and breakfast at San Antonio. The railway stations
along this country have two roofs, one being two or three feet above the
other, so that air between should keep the building cool. At breakfast,
I read the San Antonio _Daily Express_, which informed me "severe storms
prevailed everywhere in Great Britain," and my thoughts were naturally
much occupied with the Old Country. The day was sultry, but sunshine is
always a great treat to me, and it was never too hot.
Now we are running into civilization again, and I catch sight of a man
ploughing; he has a pair of mules, and is holding the reins in his
teeth. As we proceed, it is a continuous succession of cotton fields,
cotton fields, cotton fields. We see many bales; these weigh from 475 to
600 lbs. each. At a station called Sequin, I obtained lots of cotton
seeds, and gathered some cotton in the fields as we went along. The
scavengers of this country are Turkey buzzards, which are protected by
law because of their usefulness.
I could not refrain from writing several times in my note-book,
"glorious sunshine." Hitherto we have had mountains continuously in
sight, but now they are out of vision. This being Saturday we see
markets at the towns we go through; at Habwood and Flatonia especially
was this noticeable. The population seemed almost altogether negro. I
observed a negro and his wife, well dressed, riding on horseback in the
old English pillion style; another negro and his wife, and about twelve
children, in a capacious kind of wagon-buggy, and many negroes and
negresses, the latter dressed in white and gay colours, standing at
their pretty verandahed cottages.
We now pass a spot where a train was stopped and the passengers robbed
some time ago, by Jesse and Frank Jeames and the Ford Brothers. The
_modus operandi_ is for all the men to be secreted but one, who stands
on the line holding up a red flag which indicates danger; the engineer
then stops and the men spring aboard; some hold revolvers to the heads
of the engineers, and others go through the train and rob the
passengers. The robbers shout out "hands up," and one man points his
weapon at the passenger's head, whilst another rifles his pockets. If a
passenger fails to hold up his hands he is shot down. A passenger on the
Northern Prairies told me of a fellow passenger, who under such
circumstances having a revolver, aimed at a robber and pulled the
trigger, but it missed fire, and he was instantly shot down. But these
attacks are now more rare, and the officials are more prepared for them.
Sometimes the robbers get on board the train as passengers, and act
suddenly in concert. All along the country now we pass the cabins of the
slaves, familiarised to us by "Uncle Tom's Cabin." These cabins are
pleasant little houses with verandahs, and I reflected how favourably
they compared with the "homes" of many of the London poor, and how happy
the slaves might have been but for the knowledge that at any time they
were liable to be sold like a mule or a bullock. Now we pass sugar,
cotton and rice plantations, and go through such cultivations all
through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, North and South Carolina,
Georgia, and Virginia. I gathered sugar and cotton going along at
places, saw a racoon in a stream fishing for crawfish, and go through a
country, in which are plenty of alligators.
On the early morning of Sunday (December 21st), we go through swamps,
such as we used to read of as the hiding-places of runaway slaves. All
through these Southern States we saw everywhere sugar and cotton, sugar
and cotton, sugar and cotton; these, with rice, are the principal
products; sugar mills, cotton yards, etc., etc. We soon reach Algiers,
and cross the grand Mississippi River, then land at New Orleans. The
actual city of New Orleans covers an area of about 41 square miles, but
the statutory limits of the city embrace nearly 150 square miles. It is
situate on both banks of the Mississippi River, and from 1,000 to 1,500
steamers and other vessels, from all parts of the world, may frequently
be seen lying there. New Orleans is the chief market in the world for
cotton. The site of the city was surveyed in 1717 by De la Tour, and it
was settled in 1718, but abandoned in consequence of overflows, storms,
and sickness; it was resettled in 1723, held by the French till 1729,
then by the Spaniards till 1801, by the French again till 1803, and
then, with the Province of Louisiana, was ceded to the United States.
The present population is about 250,000. There are 33 cemeteries, and
they are remarkable, inasmuch as the bodies are buried above ground, in
vaults like tiers of ovens; the ground is too wet for burial. I attended
Trinity Church in the morning, had some black bear for dinner at my
hotel, the "Hotel St. Charles," and then attended the Y.M.C.A., where I
gave the address in the afternoon, which was followed by a very solemn
after meeting. I went to bed very early, and was up very early the next
morning (Monday, December 22nd). I had to draw the mosquito curtains in
the night, but not till after some of these insects had left their mark.
The principal ground floor of the hotel was on the first floor level,
and the actual ground floor was of secondary importance; the front part
was occupied by stone steps and a colonnade, and the rear was a liquor
bar and a large hall. This hall used to be one of the principal auction
rooms of the city, where slaves were sold by auction; and as I entered
the now rather desolate-looking place, which is partly circular in
shape and constructed with many pillar supports, I pictured to myself
the emotional agonies, the tempests of passion, the lust of greed, the
calm, subdued, resistless attitude of despair which at times found
expression, as domestic circles were for ever broken, tenderest
sympathies for ever sundered, closest friendships for ever
separated--yea, even the most sacred relationships of life ruthlessly
shattered, by the sale of mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters, wives
or husbands, sweethearts or friends. Of this I will give just two
illustrations: Our porter on the train crossing the Northern Prairies
was a coloured man named Farrell; he told me that his mother had seven
boys, and that they were all sold away from her, and that it had been
his life-work to try to find his brothers. He had shipped to Australia
as a seaman, had worked in hotels, and on wharves and rivers, and now
was working on the railway cars endeavouring to find his brothers; he
had advertised for them in the newspapers, but he had never heard of one
of them. When this family was broken up, Farrell and his brothers were
only boys; for it will be remembered that the date of the official
announcement of the total abolition of slavery in the United States was
made on the 18th December, 1862, when upwards of 4,000,000 slaves were
legally declared free men. Another coloured man engaged at this hotel,
who was born a slave, remembered walking with his father, who was also a
slave, and his father's anxiety to get home before nine o'clock at
night, as no coloured man was allowed to be in the streets after that
hour unless he possessed a sufficient authority from his owner. This man
told me that at an auction of slaves at this hotel (auctions of slaves
were held in New Orleans at different places three times a week) a very
fine intelligent young man was sold by auction for 2,100 dollars to a
lawyer who was known to be a cruel man. My informant told me that his
name was--well, it sounded like Rumo, possibly Roumeaux, as most of the
wealthy settlers were of French origin, that he lived in St. James'
Ward, and that when he bought slaves and sent them down to his
plantations, they each received twenty-five lashes as they entered his
gates, as an example, of what they would receive if they did not please
him. Well, when the hammer fell and this slave knew that he belonged to
an owner whose cruelty was common talk, he exclaimed, "You have lost
your money." This slave was sent down with others to the steamer on the
Mississippi (which is only some ten minutes' walk from the hotel), for
shipment to this owner's plantations. The poor fellow was not even
allowed to say good-bye to his people, but was sent on board. When he
arrived there, he repeated to the man in charge of the slaves, "Mr. Rumo
will lose his money," and shortly after he took advantage of a
favourable moment, and, folding his arms, he threw himself backward into
the river, and was drowned.
A few minutes' walk from my hotel is the Henry Clay monument, where the
mob was addressed last month by Mr. Parkerson, who incited them to
proceed to the prison and force an entrance, and then to take the lives
of a number of Italian murderers by lynch law. On this monument some
memorable words are inscribed which Mr. Clay uttered, and which T
copied. They are as follows:--"If I could be instrumental in eradicating
this deep stain, slavery, from the character of our country, I would not
exchange the proud satisfaction which I should enjoy for the honour of
all the triumphs ever decreed to the most successful conqueror." That
deep stain was removed in 1862, and slaves were raised from the
condition of cattle to that of men, who could thenceforward rejoice in
the freedom of being masters of their own bodies.