THE UNIVERSITY OF INDIANA--INDIANAPOLIS--THE VETERANS OF THE GRAND
ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC ON THE SPREE--A MARVELOUS EQUILIBRIST.
_Bloomington, Ind., March 13._
Lectured yesterday before the students of the University of Indiana, and
visited the different buildings this morning. The university is situated
on a hill in the midst of a wood, about half a mile from the little town
of Bloomington.
In a few days I shall be at Ann Arbor, the University of Michigan, the
largest in America, I am told. I will wait till then to jot down my
impressions of university life in this country.
* * * * *
I read in the papers: "Prince Saunders, colored, was hanged here
(Plaquemine, Fla.) yesterday. He declared he had made his peace with
God, and his sins had been forgiven. Saunders murdered Rhody Walker, his
sweetheart, last December, a few hours after he had witnessed the
execution of Carter Wilkinson."
If Saunders has made his peace with God, I hope his executioners have
made theirs with God and man. What an indictment against man! What an
argument against capital punishment! Here is a man committing a murder
on returning from witnessing an execution. And there are men still to be
found who declare that capital punishment deters men from committing
murder!
* * * * *
[Illustration: VETERANS.]
_Indianapolis, March 14._
Arrived here yesterday afternoon. Met James Whitcomb Riley, the Hoosier
poet. Mr. Riley is a man of about thirty, a genuine poet, full of pathos
and humor, and a great reciter. No one, I imagine, could give his poetry
as he does himself. He is a born actor, who holds you in suspense, and
makes you cry or laugh just as he pleases. I remember, when two years
ago Mr. Augustin Daly gave a farewell supper to Mr. Henry Irving and
Miss Ellen Terry at Delmonico's, Mr. Riley recited one of his poems at
table. He gave most of us a big lump in our throats, and Miss Terry had
tears rolling down her cheeks.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A GREAT BALANCING FEAT.]
The veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic are having a great field
day in Indianapolis. They have come here to attend meetings and ask for
pensions, so as to reduce that unmanageable surplus. Indianapolis is
full, and the management of Denison House does not know which way to
turn. All these veterans have large, broad-brimmed soft hats and are
covered all over with badges and ribbons. Their wives and daughters,
members of some patriotic association, have come with them. It is a huge
picnic. The entrance hall is crowded all day. The spittoons have been
replaced by tubs for the occasion. Chewing is in favor all over America,
but the State of Indiana beats, in that way, everything I have seen
before.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "IN EUROPE SWAGGERING LITTLE BOYS SMOKE."]
Went to see Clara Morris in Adolphe Belot's "Article 47," at the Opera
House, last night. Clara Morris is a powerful actress, but, like most
actors and actresses who go "starring" through America, badly supported.
I watched the audience with great interest. Nineteen mouths out of
twenty were chewing--the men tobacco, the women gum impregnated with
peppermint. All the jaws were going like those of so many ruminants
grazing in a field. From the box I occupied the sight was most amusing.
On returning to Denison House from the theater, I went to have a smoke
in a quiet corner of the hall, far from the crowd. By and by two men,
most smartly dressed, with diamond pins in their cravats, and flowers
embroidered on their waistcoats, came and sat opposite me. I thought
they had chosen the place to have a quiet chat together. Not so. One
pushed a cuspidore with his foot and brought it between the two chairs.
There, for half an hour, without saying one word to each other, they
chewed, hawked, and spat--and had a good time before going to bed.
* * * * *
Trewey is nowhere as an equilibrist, compared to a gallant veteran who
breakfasted at my table, this morning. Among the different courses
brought to him were two boiled eggs, almost raw, poured into a tumbler
according to the American fashion. Without spilling a drop, he managed
to eat those eggs with the end of his knife. It was marvelous. I have
never seen the like of it, even in Germany, where the knife trick is
practiced from the tenderest age.
In Europe, swaggering little boys smoke; here they chew and spit, and
look at you, as if to say: "See what a big man I am!"