MILWAUKEE--A WELL-FILLED DAY--REFLECTIONS ON THE SCOTCH IN
AMERICA--CHICAGO CRITICISMS.
_Milwaukee, February 25._
Arrived here from Detroit yesterday. Milwaukee is a city of over two
hundred thousand inhabitants, a very large proportion of whom are
Germans, who have come here to settle down, and wish good luck to the
_Vaterland_, at the respectful distance of five thousand miles.
At the station I was met by Mr. John L. Mitchell, the railway king, and
by a compatriot of mine, M. A. de Guerville, a young enthusiast who has
made up his mind to check the German invasion of Milwaukee, and has
succeeded in starting a French society, composed of the leading
inhabitants of the city. On arriving, I found a heavy but delightful
programme to go through during the day: a lunch to be given me by the
ladies at Milwaukee College at one o'clock; a reception by the French
Club at Mrs. John L. Mitchell's house at four; a dinner at six; my
lecture at eight, and a reception and a supper by the Press Club at
half-past ten; the rest of the evening to be spent as circumstances
would allow or suggest. I was to be the guest of Mr. Mitchell at his
magnificent house in town.
[Illustration: A CITIZEN OF MILWAUKEE.]
"Good," I said, "let us begin."
* * * * *
Went through the whole programme. The reception by the French Club, in
the beautiful Moorish-looking rooms of Mrs. John L. Mitchell's superb
mansion, was a great success. I was amazed to meet so many
French-speaking people, and much amused to see my young compatriot go
from one group to another, to satisfy himself that all the members of
the club were speaking French; for I must tell you that, among the
statutes of the club, there is one that imposes a fine of ten cents on
any member caught in the act of speaking English at the gatherings of
the association.
The lecture was a great success. The New Plymouth Church[3] was packed,
and the audience extremely warm and appreciative. The supper offered to
me by the Press Club proved most enjoyable. And yet, that was not all.
At one o'clock the Press Club repaired to a perfect German _Brauerei_,
where we spent an hour in Bavaria, drinking excellent Bavarian beer
while chatting, telling stories, etc.
I will omit to mention at what time we returned home, so as not to tell
tales about my kind host.
In spite of the late hours we kept last night, breakfast was punctually
served at eight this morning. First course, porridge. Thanks to the
kind, thoroughly Scotch hospitality of Mr. John L. Mitchell and his
charming family, thanks to the many friends and sympathizers I met
here, I shall carry away a most pleasant recollection of this large and
beautiful city. I shall leave Milwaukee with much regret. Indeed, the
worst feature of a thick lecturing tour is to feel, almost every day,
that you leave behind friends whom you may never see again.
I lecture at the Central Music Hall, Chicago, this evening; but Chicago
is reached from here in two hours and a half, and I will go as late in
the day as I can.
No more beds for me now, until I reach Albany, in three days.
* * * * *
The railway king in Wisconsin is a Scotchman. I was not surprised to
hear it. The iron king in Pennsylvania is a Scotchman, Mr. Andrew
Carnegie. The oil king of Ohio is a Scotchman, Mr. Alexander Macdonald.
The silver king of California is a Scotchman, Mr. Mackay. The
dry-goods-store king of New York--he is dead now--was a Scotchman, Mr.
Stewart. It is just the same in Canada, just the same in Australia, and
all over the English-speaking world. The Scotch are successful
everywhere, and the new countries offer them fields for their industry,
their perseverance, and their shrewdness. There you see them landowners,
directors of companies, at the head of all the great enterprises. In the
lower stations of life, thanks to their frugality and saving habits, you
find them thriving everywhere. You go to the manufactory, you are told
that the foremen are Scotch.
I have, perhaps, a better illustration still.
[Illustration: TALES OF OLD SCOTLAND.]
If you travel in Canada, either by the Grand Trunk or the Canadian
Pacific, you will meet in the last parlor car, near the stove, a man
whose duty consists in seeing that, all along the line, the workmen are
at their posts, digging, repairing, etc. These workmen are all day
exposed to the Canadian temperature, and often have to work knee-deep in
the snow. Well, you will find that the man with small, keen eyes, who
is able to do his work in the railroad car, warming himself comfortably
by the stove, is invariably a Scotchman. There is only one berth with a
stove in the whole business; it is he who has got it. Many times I have
had a chat with that Scotchman on the subject of old Scotland. Many
times I have sat with him in the little smoking-room of the parlor car,
listening to the history of his life, or, maybe, a few good Scotch
anecdotes.
* * * * *
_In the train from Chicago to Cleveland_, _February 26_.
I arrived in Chicago at five o'clock in the afternoon yesterday, dined,
dressed, and lectured at the Music Hall under the auspices of the Drexel
free Kindergarten. There was a large audience, and all passed off very
well. After the lecture, I went to the Grand Pacific Hotel, changed
clothes, and went on board the sleeping car bound for Cleveland, O.
* * * * *
The criticisms of my lecture in this morning's Chicago papers are
lively.
The _Herald_ calls me:
A dapper little Frenchman. Five feet eleven in height, and two hundred
pounds in weight!
The _Times_ says:
That splendid trinity of the American peerage, the colonel, the judge,
and the professor, turned out in full force at Central Music Hall last
night. The lecturer is a magician who serves up your many little
defects, peculiar to the auditors' own country, on a silver salver, so
artistically garnished that one forgets the sarcasm in admiration of
the sauce.
[Illustration: A CELEBRATED EXECUTIONER.]
The _Tribune_ is quite as complimentary and quite as lively:
His satire is as keen as the blade of the celebrated executioner who
could cut a man's head off, and the unlucky person not know it until a
pinch of snuff would cause a sneeze, and the decapitated head would,
much to its surprise, find itself rolling over in the dust.
And after a good breakfast at Toledo station, I enjoyed an hour poring
over the Chicago papers.
I lecture in Cleveland to-night, and am still in "the neighborhood of
Chicago."
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Very strange, that church with its stalls, galleries, and
boxes--a perfect theater. From the platform it was interesting to
watch the immense throng, packing the place from floor to ceiling, in
front, on the sides, behind, everywhere.