KANSAS TO ST. LOUIS.
Liquor Law--Kansas Academy of Science--An Incident of Travel--A
Parting Symposium--Life in the Cars--St. Louis to New York.
_June 19th._--Still on the rolling prairies; in the country of
compulsory abstinence--the paradise of Sir Wilfred Lawson. At 9.30
A.M. the train stopped at Newton, 431 miles from Pueblo, and 281 from
Kansas.
Here a phenomenon--there was a man by the road side who walked with
unsteady step, whose legs tottered, and who lurched violently as he
came down the road at that early hour. "He is a sick man," observed
one of my friends in the train; "that gentleman has been taking
_medicine_." In the Kansas Act there is a clause enabling physicians,
in case of need, to order stimulants for the patients without penalty;
but I am told the doctors have generally refused to act upon that
permission, so I suppose our friend had been consulting an unlicensed
practitioner.
It would be ill done, when I am anxious to acknowledge the pleasure
and profit which I derived from my passage through the State, if I
did not record the satisfaction with which I perused a volume of the
"Transactions of the Kansas Academy of Science," which by accident I
picked up at one of the stations. The very name speaks trumpet-tongued
for the progress which has been made in this wild region. The year
before last, the twelfth annual meeting of the Academy was held in
Topeka, and I find amongst the list of papers read such subjects
as these:--The Kansas Lepidoptera; Kansas Minerals; the Mounds of
Southern Kansas; Recent additions to Kansas Plants; Kansas Botany;
Kansas Meteorites; Phonetic representations of Indian Language;
Sinkholes; Elementary Sounds of Language; Mound-builders; On Recent
Indian Discoveries. And among the lecturers there was Professor B.
F. Mudge, who died last year, whose name probably is known to a very
limited number of scientific men outside the University of Kansas.
Generally the papers contributed by the gentlemen of the State attest
industry and attainments which make their praise of the Professor
particularly valuable. It is curious enough to pick up in a railway
carriage, traversing such a scene of comparative wildness and vast
uninhabited plains in Western Kansas, an exceedingly interesting
examination of the Helmholtz theories of sight. The object of the
lecturer would scarcely be suspected by the reader. We had already
been struck by the extraordinary absence of signalmen, or of any
of the complex apparatus of men and machinery which may be seen in
Europe, and notably in England, to report the progress of trains
on the lines. Collisions, however, occur in America where these
precautions are not taken, and the lecturer attributed a good deal of
these accidents to colour-blindness, which appears to have attracted
considerable attention in the United States. Surgeons, pilots, &c.,
are tested for colour, and in the army colour-blindness disqualifies
the recruit for employment in the signal corps. Altogether the papers
give an impression that in this new State there are diligent students
of natural history and physics, and profound inquirers into all the
phenomena of life. There was a reverse to the medal.
At a station where the train halted beyond Pueblo, a card was handed
to me by one of the stewards. "The gentleman is, as he seemed very
pressing, outside; but I told him you were engaged." I started
as I read the name and address on the card, as well I might. They
indicated that an old friend whom I had left in a condition of great
bodily weakness and infirmity in London, was close at hand in this
remote region--a wonderful if welcome fly in amber. I ran out of the
drawing-room into the next car, and there saw a man, agitated and
travel-worn, whom I had never, to the best of my belief, seen in my
life before. His story was told, if not soon, at least in time to
let me partly understand the situation ere the train moved off. The
stranger had been in the service of the gentleman whose card he sent in
to me, but had left it to better himself in America, and had gone out
as valet to an American of good position at Colorado Springs. He found,
however, according to his own account, that he was expected to do
things not required of a valet in his own country, such as lumbering,
wood-cutting, and the like, and so he had thrown up his situation
and was going back to England. He had had quite enough of Colorado
Springs. "I was not there above a month, and I was shot at twice," he
said. "Once because I made some remark in a bar-room, where a chap was
abusing Englishmen; and another time while I was speaking in the street
to a man a fellow had a grudge against. He fired at him across the
road, and the ball whistled within a hair's-breadth of my head." He had
arrived at Pueblo some time before our special, and as the morning was
warm, he walked into a bar near the platform, while the engine of his
train was watering, to get a glass of lemonade. As he was drinking it,
a man walked in and called for a glass of whisky, putting down, at the
same time, what seemed to be a bank note, on the counter. The boniface
said, "I haven't got change for this twenty-dollar bill--perhaps this
gentleman can oblige you." The unsuspecting Briton, who had put the
money for his passage to Liverpool in a purse, drew it out to change
the note, and the strange customer at once seized it from his hand,
and rushed off towards the street with his booty. The Britisher ran
after him, but checked his wild career when he saw, within an inch of
his head, the muzzle of a revolver which the robber had drawn, and the
fellow vanished. "Won't you help me to stop the thief; you see what has
happened?" exclaimed the victim turning to the barman. "I guess there
was no money in that purse, sir. And if there was, perhaps you had no
more right to it than he had." Then the Briton dashed off after Don
Guzman, shouting "police," and was at once accosted by an officer of
the Pueblo force. He hurriedly stated the facts. The policeman smiled.
"I think you won't see that pile agin," he remarked; "and if you
don't look sharp ye'll miss yer train, that's a fact!" The man had his
railway ticket all right, a few dollars in his pocket, and I told him
I would see him and get him a passage, if I found on inquiry his story
was true. My companions thought the tale suspicious--but I believe it
was true, and I subsequently franked the man to England.
Now here we had an exemplification of the manners and customs of
the district. Such an act of violence and robbery might occur in
London--anywhere. But what of the apathy, or perhaps complicity, of the
bar man? And if it or they be considered not altogether abnormal, is
the conduct of the policeman to be accepted as quite consistent with
the discharge of a policeman's duty? Well, whilst I was pondering on
these things, there came to me the best possible adviser--a judge in
this Israel--our excellent Palinurus, Mr. White. He threw a new, if not
a side light on the subject. "Depend on it he is a confidence man. The
trains are full of them! Our conductors have express orders about the
rascals." And he explained that a confidence man is a swindler--very
often an Englishman, who makes it his business to look out for unwary
strangers, on whom he imposes with some tale of distress, or some
recital of imaginary misfortune and adventure. As the man I had seen
was coming on in the train in our wake, Mr. White promised to talk with
the conductor, and find out, if he could, the truth about the Pueblo
robbery. Before dusk a telegram was forwarded by him to me from the
station where he left us, to say that the conductor had no doubt the
man was robbed, but that it was partly his own fault, and to warn me to
be cautious in my dealings with him.
We have now been travelling straight on end for 1160 miles, with only
two engineers and two firemen and one engine, a feat of endurance
which has greatly exercised the Duke of Sutherland, who, as a practical
director of the London and North-Western Railway, has knowledge of such
matters, and who contrasts the performance with the experience he has
on the home lines, where engines, engineers, and firemen would have
been relieved or laid up over and over again. The head engineer of the
line, who joined us, Mr. Hackney, formerly of Congleton, had become
accustomed to these journeyings and endurances, which were brought to
the front in our conversation by the engine-driver appearing at the
door of the carriage to claim a dollar which he had won from the Duke
in a bet that he could not do the distance without laying up the engine
for repairs.
All the long Sabbath-day we travelled on through the prairie, catching
glimpses now and then of wooden villages, around which trees were
beginning to sprout up, and of the little churches with knots of carts,
waggons, horses, and buggies outside, and people waiting for the end
of the sermon. Now and then, perhaps at intervals of fifteen miles or
so, are places of larger importance, such as Emporia, a rising city on
the plains, where many steeples pointed aloft indicated considerable
diversity of creed. An authority, not always to be relied upon, stated
that there are fourteen churches belonging to the town.
There was a parting symposium in the second Pullman ere we reached
Topeka. Mr. White, Major Anderson, General Brown, Mr. Jerome, and
my much wandering compatriot, a veritable Irish Ulysses, raised the
tuneful melodies of the "Golden Slipper," the "Little Brown Jug," and
the other tender psalmodies which had whiled away so many hours, for
the last time in our society, and the little gages which were but the
outward and visible signs of the regard we felt for our friends were
exchanged with honest effusion. There may be--nay, there are--many
jealousies and causes of estrangement between the people of the Old
Country and of the New, but between the individuals of both there is a
_camaraderie_ which cannot, I believe, be found between Englishmen and
the natives of any country except America.
"Good bye! God bless you! Be sure if ever you come to England you shall
have a hearty welcome from me." "And from me!" "And me!" "And me!" The
engine bell tolled, and we moved slowly on.
And we were left all alone! The pleasant companions of so many weeks
had gone! I wonder if they missed us as much as we missed them?
While travelling across the Rockies and the desert to San Francisco
and back, our course of life was pretty uniform, and one day followed
another with almost perfect resemblance in the mode of existence and
in all things except the scenery and the country through which we
were passing. First, in the early morning came one of the attendants
to our bedside with a cup of coffee, and then the curtains of the
little cubicle were thrown aside and you looked out on either plain,
or mountain, or river, or col; and on the faces of early risers at
doors or windows as the train passed through some rising town. At one
end of the saloon there was a bath-room, and from the tank there was
always to be obtained sufficient water for the purpose of an early
dip, which was enjoyed as occasion offered in turn by the party. Then
a cigarette. Then we dropped in as people do at a country house, into
the sitting-room, and exchanged ideas as to the progress made during
the night, and the stoppages, wondered where we were, and had a little
conversation with the conductor or Arthur as to the place where we
could stop or get the papers--and so got over the morning till 9
o'clock, when breakfast was announced, consisting of fish, poultry,
meat, fruit (I had nearly said flowers, for there was always a bouquet
on the table), tea, coffee, and cold dishes, with abundance of milk
and butter. Where the fish came from and how they were kept fresh was
matter of wonder, for the instances were very rare in which there was
any indication that it had not quite recently come out of the sea or
the river. The supply of ice was liberal and unfailing, and whenever
we stopped at any considerable station the whole disposable strength
of the attendants in the train was employed in grappling with large
blocks of it and stowing it away in the ice reservoir, in which were
the larder and the cellar for such wines as needed cooling, and for
the vegetables and meat, of which there were great stores constantly
laid in. Then after breakfast there was reading or sight-seeing,
investigating the line, examining the maps, receiving visits and
returning them in other parts of the train, till in the very hot days
it was necessary, after expelling the flies, which were troublesome on
occasion, to draw the dust-blinds and the curtains of the carriages,
to mitigate the fierceness of the sun. It was objected occasionally
that by this process we deprived ourselves of the opportunity of
what was called "seeing the country," but after all a glance now
and then is quite sufficient to reveal the general character of the
districts through which the train is running; and the most diligent and
painstaking observer cannot keep his eyes fixed steadily for a day on
the external aspects of the region through which he is travelling. I
should be sorry to declare that every one was wide awake all the time
of the forenoon and up to the period of lunch, which too often exceeded
on the side of many dishes, being, in fact, a mid-day dinner; but then
no one was obliged to eat more than he liked, or drink either. Then
came the longest stretch of the day, and at its close another banquet;
and as the sun declined and the temperature decreased, we could take
more pleasure in looking out at the fantastic forms of the vegetation
which clothed the arid rocks in the desert, or on the bright green
prairie, or on the towering mountains, waiting till the sun had set,
generally in a blaze of glory. There were, of course, interruptions and
variations as we halted at the more important places; disappointments
about letters which had been telegraphed for and which were expected
day after day, constituted also a matter of conversation and discourse.
There was an harmonium in the sitting-room of the palace car, but
no one had the art of playing it, although we had plenty of music of
another sort; for after dinner the gentlemen of the railroad party who
had not dined with us came in, and we were never tired of listening to
the songs, so original and amusing, which they gave with great spirit
and admirable time and tune, for it happened they all possessed good
voices, and the melodies with which the troops of coloured minstrels
have now rendered the world familiar were then new to us.
During the whole of our tour the weather has been most favourable.
With the exception of the rainy days in Canada, and the cold and
rawness which characterised the time of our short visit to Richmond,
there was nothing worse to complain of than continual sunshine. Now
and then the temperature was a little too good to be pleasant when we
were traversing the beds of the dry seas in the desert in Colorado and
California, but that was something to look back upon with satisfaction,
because there was no time lost in keeping within doors owing to the
rain and storm or cold. "Within doors," however, is a phrase scarcely
applicable to our mode of life, as it would imply that we were in
stable habitations, whereas, as will have been seen by those who
have accompanied us so far, we "lived and moved, and had our being"
in railway carriages; a mode of life rendered so comfortable by all
appliances, that it was sometimes no relief to be told that we would
have to pass the night at an hotel.
For nine days and nine nights in succession, on one occasion, we never
slept out of the carriages or got out of the train except to take a
stroll about the station, or a peep into the street of a small town
whilst we were waiting, and one got quite accustomed to that nomad and
yet civilised mode of existence, where at every halting-place we were
supplied with the latest intelligence by the local papers, and made
the recipients of some attention or courtesy, visits and compliments
(the remarks of the other sort not being many), bouquets of flowers,
presents of fruit, and plenty of conversation. But that my critics
might say I dilate too much upon the material enjoyment of life, I
would describe at length the means which were supplied in the course
of these long journeys for animal enjoyment. Never could there be found
more attentive and obliging domestics than the coloured men who waited
upon us--Arthur and his fellows. There lived in the kitchen compartment
of the train, at the end of one of the saloons, a coloured cook,
very intelligent and gossipy, full of quaint conceits and dishes and
conversation, who commenced life as a slave on a Southern plantation,
probably adopted for indoor purposes on account of his smartness. He
liberated himself in the course of the war, and marched off with a
regiment of Federals in the capacity of cook and body-servant to one
of the officers, wherein he saw a great amount of very hard fighting
at very close quarters. This adventurous modern Othello was wont to
discourse with much animation when he came out for a breath of fresh
air on the platform and could find anybody to talk to him, although
he could move no more tender heart than that of Sir Henry Green. The
gentlemen of the Atchison, &c., Railway, when travelling with us, had
a _cordon bleu_ in the saloon--an Italian or Frenchman, I think, or
at all events a French-speaking man, who had served also, and would
have done credit to an establishment where faults in a _chef_ would
not lightly be condoned. In the interchange of courtesies, Mr. White
and his friends invited our party now and then to dine in the saloon,
which was not "across the way," but up a little, on the line, being the
saloon in front of us.
But here we are at Kansas City once again! At 5.30 P.M. the train
arrived at the platform, which was gay with a Sunday crowd, of
whom many were negresses--black, brown, brindled, and yellow
_citoyennes_--in much variety of colour and garmenting. Unlike Samson,
their weakness is in their hair, and like Achilles, they are vulnerable
about the heels (to the arrows of an æsthetical criticism, which
accepts the Greek idea of beauty in form); but they seemed to enjoy
life amazingly, and not to be in need of beaux; perhaps the happiest
people in the world now that their chattel days are over. It was late
when we turned into our berths, for it was a lovely night and the
fire-flies exercised a great attraction over us, but at last the charm
was worn out and we slept till morning without a break.
_June 20th._--Still the same boundless plain. In vain does one look for
the grass fields with close, even, carpet-like surface to be seen in
Europe. We are still passing through exceedingly rich land--the fields
covered with flocks of sheep and herds of good-looking cattle. There
are more trees by the stream-side, and shrubs growing in the hollows.
Habitations are more frequent, and so are fencing and planting. As the
sun was setting we approached St. Louis. There were some park-like
glades, and vistas opening up to pleasant mansions, amid grounds
showing marks of culture. There had been a severe thunderstorm the
night before, and the St. Louis Station had still traces of its effects
in pools of mud. But the rain had cooled the air, and the people were
rejoicing exceedingly in the great improvement that had taken place
in the weather, for, they told us, men and women had been dropping
down with the heat a few days ago as though they had been struck by
musketry.
The appearance of the St. Louis Terminus gave one a high idea of the
importance of this city. Eight trains were waiting on their respective
lines to start with passengers to all parts of the Union; and by
the simple device of placing at the end of each train a large board
announcing its destination and the time of its departure, much anxiety
was saved to intending passengers, not to speak of the irritation of
officials avoided by this simple expedient. The journey was continued
by the Indianopolis and Vandalia, and by what is called the "Pa'handle"
line to the Pennsylvania Railroad on to Philadelphia. The train was
timed on Tuesday so that we were able to see the famous passage over
the Alleghany Mountains from Conemaugh to Altoona. For nearly eleven
miles we were carried without steam, and with the brakes on, through
very fine scenery, down the mountain-side, but the summit was crossed
in the darkness of a tunnel 1200 yards long. There are some striking
engineering feats in the way of curves and gradients, and the trace
of the line is very bold all the way down to Altoona, where the
Pennsylvania Railroad engine and machinery shops are established--the
centre of a population of some 17,000 souls, where twenty years ago
"there were," as a friend said, "only bears, deer, woodpeckers, and
skallywags." The Duke, Mr. Stephen, and our railway experts got out
and visited the workshops, and came back very much pleased at the
discovery of several London and North-Western men in good positions
in the Pennsylvania Railroad Company's service, who welcomed their
old directors with effusion, and that there was nothing visible there
for Crewe to copy, unless perhaps cast-iron wheels. The speed at
which we travelled was a sensible proof that we were once more on the
line of our old friends of Pennsylvania. From Altoona to Harrisburg,
132 miles, we rattled along in two hours and forty-three minutes. On
another stretch of the line we travelled eighty-three miles in one
hour and forty-two seconds, including stoppages; and the rapid motion
was very agreeable, as there was a perceptible increase of temperature
after we reached the plains and approached the beautiful valley of the
Susquehannah--a scene of industry, prosperity, and peace. Fortunately
there was a good light on the river, and we had a fine view of the
country all the way to Harrisburg under the rays of the setting sun.
A little farther on we were gratified by the appearance of General
Roberts at a station on the way, where he was awaiting the Duke to
congratulate him on his safe return from the Western expedition, and we
bade him farewell at his own house, with many sincere and well-deserved
acknowledgments of great and constant kindness. Then over the river by
the noble bridge, and on to Philadelphia. We did not visit Pittsburg,
which was vomiting out masses of smoke, nor did we halt this time at
the capital of the Quaker State.