A large bath-house has just been completed, fitted with every modern
convenience and aid to health and comfort. It is two stories high,
with wide piazzas and balconies. On the first floor are the
bathing-rooms, parlours, and dressing-rooms; above are reading and
reception-rooms and the physician's office. No expense has been
spared in making it complete in every particular.
"The surroundings of Manitou are particularly charming, and even
without its mineral springs it would be a favourite resort. Mountains
high and low shut it closely in. Joined hand in hand like a company
of eager children, they press and crowd around the lovely spot, those
outside peering over the heads and shoulders of their companions.
Calmly the grand old peak looks over them all down into the loveliest
places."
Dr. Solly writes thus of Manitou and its springs:--
"The statements concerning the climate of Colorado Springs applies to
Manitou, with important modifications owing to its being in a valley
instead of on a plateau. The general modifying influences of valleys
are confirmed by our local experience. The summer is somewhat cooler
and damper, while the winter is slightly less dry and warmer, being
more sheltered, the only wind blowing with direct force being the
west, which though it comes from the mountains is usually warm. The
hours of daylight are shorter.
"_The Springs_ all contain a moderate quantity of carbonate of soda
and minor ingredients, and some also iron and Glauber's salts. They
are cold, and charged to saturation with carbonic acid, which
increases the activity of their properties and makes them extremely
palatable. They are peculiarly adapted for drinking and bathing in
cases of anæmia and in most chronic stomach, liver, and kidney
affections occurring in debilitated persons with whom the climate
agrees. A detailed account of these waters will be found in my
pamphlet on Manitou, published by the Gazette Publishing Company,
Colorado Springs."
Mrs. Dunbar thus describes one of the famous passes in the Rocky
Mountains near Manitou.
"The Ute Pass, following up the course of the Fountain, was an old
Indian trail into the parks and mountains higher up. Later on, in the
gold excitement of 1859, when the rush was made to Pike's Peak, and
later still, after the unprecedented excitement and the settlement of
Leadville, before the railroad was built, the Pass was thronged with
camp-trains pushing their way into the mountains. Now the tourist,
the pleasure-seeker and the invalid go leisurely over a good road to
pass a delightful summer among the beautiful parks through which it
leads. One of these is Manitou Park, which is a summer camping-ground
much frequented. The situation is very delightful and its summer
hotel is good."
And again the beautiful seven falls in Cheyenne Cañon, she thus
speaks of:--
"South Cheyenne is deep and narrow, and nearly a mile long, with
perpendicular walls of solid granite rising hundreds of feet and in
places over a thousand feet, naked and smooth, with only occasional
rifts. It is winding in its course, and narrows into gloomy
rock-bound cells or widens into pleasant amphitheatres. A small
stream runs quickly through the narrow rocky bed, pushing out around
great boulders and leaping over the small ones, forming innumerable
cascades that foam and gurgle and sing low quiet songs. At the head
of the cañon the water falls three hundred feet, vainly trying to
find a resting-place in its seven leaps to the bottom. Stairs have
been built to the top of these falls, where are grand views of the
cañon and the plains."
The society in Colorado Springs and Manitou is thus detailed by Mrs.
Dunbar:--
"The society is the very best; people of culture and refinement, and
many possessing much wealth, have been attracted here by the climate
and surroundings, and these have drawn others of like tastes and
habits, till on this little mesa where the mountains and the plains
meet, there has grown up in a few short years a city of nearly six
thousand people, 'the cream of eastern society.' Although Colorado
Springs is pre-eminently a health resort, and THE health resort of
the West, and although 'wealthy invalids from the East make up a good
part of the population of the city,' others besides invalids are
settled here. Men of means from the East owning large herds of cattle
and sheep that roam over the great western plains from Montana to
Mexico have found it best to make a home for themselves nearer their
business interests, and seeking the best place have come to Colorado
Springs. Others interested in the mineral wealth of the Rocky
Mountains, especially in Colorado, Utah, and Old and New Mexico, have
also settled here.
"Unlike many of the towns and cities of the West, Colorado Springs is
not cosmopolitan; it has scarcely any French, German, or Irish
element. The people are from the older states of the Union, and from
Canada, England, and Scotland; hence an entirely English-speaking
community. The people as a whole are probably better educated and
possess more wealth than those of an eastern town of the same size.
It is more New-England-like in the general make-up of its social,
religious, and educational characteristics than any town west of the
Mississippi. The poorer people are a respectable class who have
received some social and educational advantages; none but
enterprising or well-to-do people would ever cross the plains to
establish a new home in the West."
On the same point, education, and the accessibility of Colorado
Springs, Dr. Solly writes:--
"There is an excellent college, good schools, and private teachers
for those who have children to be educated, while for adults,
attendance on one or more of the courses of lectures at the College
offers the means of passing an hour or so a day in profitable and
interesting study. Churches of all denominations are well supported.
Two free reading-rooms and a library are open to visitors, and an
attractive club welcomes strangers with a good introduction at
moderate fees.
Colorado Springs is upon the main line of the Denver and Rio Grande
Railway, which follows the course of the eastern slope of the
Rocky Mountains, sending branches westward through the mountains
in all directions and eastward connecting with nearly all the
trans-continental routes, being seventy-five miles south of Denver,
where it joins the Union Pacific, and Chicago, Burlington and Quincy,
and forty miles north of Pueblo, where it connects with the Atchison,
Topeka and Santa Fe. It is less than four days' journey to either the
Atlantic or Pacific coasts, while Europe can be reached in fourteen
days. For invalids it is wiser, however, to prolong these periods by
frequent stoppages. Access is easy from this point to other desirable
places of about the same elevation, so that the invalid can keep up
the benefit that altitude affords and enjoy the pleasure and
advantage of a change."
Of the climate at Colorado Springs, Mrs. Dunbar writes:--
"It is not the purpose of this article to encroach upon the
subject-matter properly belonging to a physician, but a few general
remarks concerning the climate and its effects upon lung diseases
will not be out of place.
"The marked features of this climate are the dry atmosphere and
clear sunlight for more than 300 days in the year.
"This year, in February and March for seven successive weeks, there
were but five cloudy days, and during each of those five days the sun
shone at times.
"Most of our cloudy weather, with threatening snow or rain, is in
April and May; the most disagreeable element of the climate is the
wind-storms in spring and fall, mostly in April and November. These
dry storms of wind and dust, though unpleasant, are of short duration
and not injurious to health.
"Statistics might be given concerning the state of the weather from
day to day throughout the year, but it is unnecessary here, for they
will be found in the weather reports accompanying this article.
"Generally speaking there is no rain from the 1st of September till
the next May or June, and often not much till July. July and August
are the rainy months, and during this time rain is liable to fall
nearly every day. Very seldom is there a long rain-storm, but
tempests and heavy showers for an hour or two each day and usually
in the afternoon. In the mountains snows are frequent and heavy in
the winter, and the higher ranges have snow upon them nearly every
month in the year. But on the plains and in Colorado Springs and
Manitou there is very little.
"In the early part of the winter, and usually in March and April,
there are light snows which remain upon the ground only a short time,
not longer than a day or two, and sometimes only a few hours. There
is so little snow that cattle and sheep feed upon the plains through
the winter with perhaps a few days' exception, on the short buffalo
grass, which retains its nourishment in this dry climate like made
hay, which it really is.
"The surface soil of Colorado Springs is a coarse, sandy loam, into
which the moisture sinks rapidly. It is never muddy here for more
than a few hours, so that our streets and walks are practically hard
and dry.
"The temperature of this dry country is marked by sudden changes and
extremes in summer and in winter. A noticeable feature is the
decided difference between day and night, and sunlight and shade.
Most of the days in winter one can sit out of doors in the sun, but
even after our warmest days the nights are cold, especially towards
morning, when the mercury will frequently drop below zero. Owing to
the absence of moisture the cold is not more noticeable here with the
mercury at zero than when 15° or 20° above in damp localities farther
east.
"In summer when the sun shining through the clear, dry atmosphere is
so hot, the evenings and nights are always cool and comfortable; also
in mid-day it is cool and agreeable in the shade. On account of the
absence of moisture in the air we never have any sultry or foggy
days. Through the day the mercury seldom rises higher than 90° in the
shade. But the heat is not oppressive as it is at this temperature in
lower altitudes and damp climates. Such a climate cannot but be
favorable to throat and lung diseases."
On the same subject (climate), the following is by Dr. Solly, and
indeed so are all the following extracts (regarding Colorado Springs
from a medical point of view) from his pen.
"WEATHER.--WINTER.
"People (invalids) sit on porches without extra wraps; so powerful is
the sun's heat in winter that sunshades are grateful, and mid-day
picnics are taken with enjoyment and benefit. It is at this season
that the greatest improvement is noticed in the consumptives. On
turning to the tables at the end of this chapter it will be seen that
though the nights are often intensely cold, the days are seldom so.
However, until we take thermometric observations, both in the sun and
shade, and with continuous self-recording instruments, we cannot show
what is the real temperature of the hours that especially concern the
invalid. To a person unacquainted with physics or practically
unversed in climates, the cold of the winter nights may seem a
disadvantage; why this is but seldom the case is owing chiefly to the
dryness. The proportion of sunshiny days is more remarkable at this
resort throughout the year, and especially during the fall and
winter, than at any other from which reports could be obtained.
"Sleighing is seldom possible, and only for a few hours at a time in
occasional winters.
"Skating, however, is good on most days through the middle of every
winter. The frosts at night make the ice so thick and hard, that the
hours of sunlight are not long enough to melt it to any appreciable
extent, and the dry air absorbs the moisture from the melting ice so
rapidly that a smooth hard surface is usually presented for the
skaters' enjoyment.
"_Snowfall._--The total amount of snow that falls through the whole
winter is so slight that there are very few days upon which it is
seen at all. The snow when it falls rarely lies more than a day or
two, for the reasons that the dry air produces rapid evaporation and
the dry soil quick absorption, so that it disappears without evidence
of melting, and there is not the danger to the invalid of wet ground
with a bright sun overhead.
SPRING.
"The spring is undoubtedly here, as elsewhere, the least desirable
season of the year, but it compares favourably with other climates,
and there is no period of melting snow or special month to be
shunned, and an invalid can on occasion change with advantage his
location on the elevated ground of Colorado to New Mexico, for a few
weeks, guided by the weather reports.
SUMMER.
"_Temperature by Day._--In the shade the heat is seldom over 82°. The
air being dry, the heat is much less felt than a lower temperature in
damper climates. But there being no solar temperature observations,
the fact of the intense heat of the direct rays of the sun is not
apparent.
"_Evaporation._--This heat is, of course, to some delicate invalids,
very trying, but sun-stroke is almost unknown, and if the head is
protected harm is seldom done by exercising even during the hottest
portions of the day.
"_The temperature by night_ is almost invariably cool, as seen by the
temperature tables, and two blankets at least are grateful to sleep
under; while the mornings and evenings being cool, without dew or
dampness, give sufficient daylight hours for exercise for those who
shun the mid-day heat.
"_The rainfall_, which, with the melted snow, averages only fifteen
inches for the year, occurs almost entirely between the middle of
April and the middle of October, and falls chiefly in the three
summer months.
"_Thunderstorms_, or rather showers, occurring in the afternoons and
lasting about twenty minutes or half an hour, when much rain will
fall at that one time, are the usual form in which the bulk of the
precipitation occurs. These storms arise rapidly, are seldom preceded
by the warning sense of discomfort that is usually felt in lower
regions, and disappear as quickly, leaving a sense of refreshment
after the heat, with few and rapidly evaporating signs of moisture
upon the soil.
AUTUMN.
"The autumn is perhaps the most enjoyable season of the year, it is
very dry and warm without heat and with few storms. Although there is
no reason why patients suited to the climate should not begin their
sojourn in any season convenient to them, perhaps September or
October are on the whole best, because they then approach the cold
nights of winter gradually.
TABLE I.--MEAN TEMPERATURE.
+-----------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+---------+
| | At 7 a.m. | At 10 a.m. | At 2 p.m. | At 9 p.m. | [A]Day. |
+-----------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+---------+
| January | 17.8 | 27.3 | 36.0 | 20.9 | 24.4 |
| February | 21.3 | 36.3 | 42.0 | 27.1 | 29.4 |
| March | 31.4 | 46.6 | 52.4 | 37.4 | 36.6 |
| April | 38.9 | 50.8 | 54.7 | 42.2 | 43.9 |
| May | 50.2 | 57.9 | 62.9 | 51.7 | 49.9 |
| June | 61.5 | 66.1 | 72.6 | 60.2 | 65.9 |
| July | 66.2 | 75.2 | 77.6 | 65.0 | 69.7 |
| August | 64.9 | 74.3 | 76.9 | 63.6 | 68.1 |
| September | 50.1 | 60.4 | 68.8 | 54.2 | 57.2 |
| October | 37.9 | 52.0 | 60.6 | 42.7 | 47.8 |
| November | 27.9 | 43.9 | 48.2 | 31.3 | 35.5 |
| December | 20.2 | 22.8 | 38.2 | 23.2 | 27.6 |
| Spring | 40.2 | 51.8 | 56.7 | 43.8 | 42.8 |
| Summer | 64.2 | 71.9 | 75.7 | 62.9 | 67.9 |
| Autumn | 38.6 | 52.1 | 59.2 | 42.7 | 47.1 |
| Winter | 19.8 | 28.8 | 38.7 | 23.7 | 27.1 |
| Year | 40.7 | 51.1 | 57.6 | 43.3 | 46.4 |
+-----------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+---------+
[A] The daily mean is one-fourth the sum of the readings at 7 a.m.,
at 2 p.m., and double the reading at 9 p.m.
TABLE II.--MAXIMUM AND MINIMUM TEMPERATURES IN WINTER AND SPRING.
PART I.--MAXIMUM TEMPERATURES.
1873-'74. 1874-'75. 1875-'76. 1877-'78.
A B A B A B A B
December 65.0 44.1 59.0 41.7 67.0 51.6 69.0 --
January 63.0 46.6 60.0 35.1 62.0 45.5 59.5 --
February 59.0 40.2 58.0 40.8 64.0 51.6 61.5 47.1
_Winter_ 65.0 43.6 60.0 39.2 67.0 49.6 69.0 --
March 61.0 48.2 67.0 42.0 65.5 49.1 70.5 --
April 82.0 53.6 71.0 -- 79.0 60.8 72.0 60.4
May 92.0 74.7 84.0 70.3 84.0 67.6 80.0 65.1
_Spring_ -- 58.8 -- -- -- 59.2 -- --
June 101.0 85.6 91.0 82.2 93.0 77.2 84.0 71.5
1878-'79. 1879-'80. 1880-'81. 1882-'83.
A B A B A B A B
December 59.5 31.2 -- -- -- -- -- --
January 68.0 37.6 62.5 46.4 63.0 40.5 55.5 36.8
February 68.5 47.1 61.0 39.1 60.0 47.6 62.0 --
_Winter_ 68.5 38.6 -- -- -- -- -- --
March 77.0 59.4 -- -- 70.0 51.3 67.5 54.9
April -- -- -- -- 73.5 -- 70.5 56.6
May -- -- -- -- -- -- 80.5 66.4
_Spring_ -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 59.3
June -- -- -- -- -- -- 90.5 76.5
NOTE.--Column A contains the highest temperature of the month or
season; column B the mean of the highest temperatures of the several
days.
TABLE III.--MAXIMUM AND MINIMUM TEMPERATURES IN SUMMER AND AUTUMN.
1874. 1875.
A B C D A B C D
June 101.0 85.6 39.0 50.7 91.0 82.2 32.0 49.7
July 98.0 89.5 48.0 55.5 90.0 76.4 47.0 53.1
August 92.5 85.5 52.0 55.4 93.0 79.7 42.0 51.6
_Summer_ 101.0 86.9 39.0 53.9 93.0 79.4 32.0 51.5
September 87.0 71.0 27.0 42.4 88.0 73.7 27.0 44.9
October 76.0 63.1 20.0 38.6 82.0 68.7 18.0 35.9
November 65.0 52.6 2.0 24.4 74.0 52.3 9.0 24.2
_Autumn_ -- 62.2 -- 35.1 -- 64.9 -- 35.0
1878.
A B C D
June 84.0 71.5 42.0 49.0
July 90.0 83.2 48.5 57.0
August 92.0 81.5 50.0 58.3
_Summer_ 92.0 78.7 42.0 54.8
September 82.0 69.9 33.5 43.0
October 79.0 61.7 13.0 32.1
November 66.0 51.5 5.5 25.7
_Autumn_ -- 61.0 -- 33.6
NOTE.--Column A contains the highest, and column C the lowest,
temperature of the month or season; column B contains the mean of the
highest, and column D the mean of the lowest, temperatures of the
several days.
PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OBSERVED AT COLORADO SPRINGS.
"_Skin._--'Its activity is increased; it is also better nourished and
strengthened.' These effects are very markedly shown, the ruddy
appearance of residents indicates at once the activity of the
circulation, and the quickness with which the nerves of the skin
respond to the impression of cold and heat; whereby, as has been
shown, nature protects the body against cold-catching, and indicates
its increased activity. These physiological effects are best
demonstrated by a consideration of the influence of the climate upon
the skin where there is some disorder or disease of it, or of some
organ or function upon which it depends. As regards the skin itself,
it is a common saying that Colorado is bad for good complexions and
good for bad ones. This means that the beautiful pink and white
complexion, that is so much admired, is destroyed, the burning of the
sun and the vigour imparted to the circulation make fair maidens
'ruddier than the cherry and browner than the berry.' While the
complexions of those who are sallow and marked with acne, are
improved; the sluggishness and poverty of the skin is stimulated, the
colour gets brighter and the glands acting freely again the pores
cease to be clogged with the hardened secretion, and by these means
the acne is removed.
"_Circulation._--'Heart and blood-vessels are probably strengthened.'
The frequency of the pulse is certainly increased in individuals upon
first arriving in Colorado, being greatest in those most feeble. In
well persons and those who regain their health, it also soon returns
to its customary number of beats. That each separate beat is made
stronger is probable, but hard to demonstrate; however the fact will
be admitted by all physicians practising in Colorado, that hearts
which are muscularly weak, even when there are bruits, greatly
improve in tone, strength and steadiness; while those where from some
disease or obstruction the muscle is increased in size and strength,
the symptoms are almost always so alarmingly developed that they have
to be sent away before there is time to observe what the secondary
effects might be.
"_Lungs' Respiration._--'The number of respirations is increased at
the beginning of the stay, but returns to the normal number after a
longer time, and probably the depth of the inspiration is also
increased.' This is in accordance with our observations. The greater
expansion of the chest, and the frequency with which patients and
others volunteer the statement that they can breathe deeper, confirms
the opinion that the depth of respiration is increased; more bulk of
air being taken in to give to the lungs an equivalent amount of
oxygen, greater depth of breathing must needs follow. The increased
chest development and the necessarily greater use of the respiratory
muscles makes it tolerably certain that they are strengthened.
"_Appetite and Assimilation._--'In most cases there is a transient or
permanent increase of appetite and assimilation of nourishment.'
"There is certainly direct evidence of the former to be found in
Colorado, but as change of scene and air produce it almost
everywhere, where the general conditions are not unfavorable to
health, and notably so at the seashore, and also on shipboard when
the depressing effects of seasickness are absent or passed away, it
is doubtful how far this may be taken as a special effect of
altitude, except through the increased oxygenation produced by both
sea and mountain air. It would appear that in those with whom
Colorado agrees there is a greater consumption of meat, a good
appetite, and probably an increased one. That there is also an
increased assimilation of nourishment may be inferred from an
increased appetite without dyspepsia, in fact the improvement that
usually takes place in dyspeptic conditions, during residence in
Colorado, is a good evidence of increased or, at least, more perfect
assimilation.
"_Nourishment._--'From this follows an improved formation of blood
and nourishment of the organs.' The general vigour of the circulation
with the ruddier colour, which has been dwelt upon, would show that
the improved quality of the blood must be due not only to the causes
previously pointed out, more oxygen absorbed, etc., but also to the
more perfect conversion of food into blood; all this will likewise
apply to the better nourishment of the organs which can be inferred
from similar grounds.
"_Sleep_ 'is usually improved.' This appears to be the case in
Colorado in healthy persons, and in those invalids with whom the
climate agrees; during their first few weeks of residence there is
more or less tendency to nap, though between times they may be
particularly wide awake. Later it would seem that less sleep is
needed to sustain health, though it is especially profound. As
regards the individual, the temperament probably largely influences
this matter. The torpid generally are first made drowsy, and
afterwards sleep well, the erethic or irritable are specially wakeful
on arriving, and later their sleep is broken, exactly the reverse
occurring on the sea shore. With respect to meteorological
conditions, humidity undoubtedly is the first consideration, it being
commonly observed that some sleep better in dry and some in rainy
weather; though an increase of elevation without marked change in the
humidity will add to the tendency to sleep in the torpid, and the
contrary in the erethic, thus indicating that altitude, that is
lessened atmospheric pressure, has its own especial influence.
"_Asthma_, when purely nervous, is almost invariably relieved, and
sometimes cured permanently, though more often it reappears with a
return to the atmosphere in which it was generated, the rest from
attacks and improvement in the general health caused by the climate
will, however, even then often ward off a relapse for some time. The
elevation at which the greatest relief is afforded varies with the
case. When there is much bronchitis and emphysema, or heart trouble,
the asthma is often worse at first, though it may afterwards be
relieved; where these complications exist their extent and character
must be the guide about coming. When the affection of the heart is
not very great or long existing, a relief of the asthma generally
brings improvement in its tone. Where these complications exist, if a
trial of this climate is advised, it is best for the patient to halt
two or three times for a few days, at least while ascending the
slopes, and avoid all exertion for the first few weeks after
arrival, and be prepared to depart if improvement does not show
itself at the end of the first month.
"_The throat_ when affected with chronic catarrh is usually much
benefited, probably locally, as indicated by Dr. Weber, by the
readier separation of the mucus. I have also had cases of tuberculous
ulceration of the larynx, in which the ulcers have healed under
topical and general treatment, though Dr. Weber states such cases are
not suitable.
"_Chronic Bronchitis_ is also improved, though the cough at first is
frequently increased for a time. When, as a result or complication of
the bronchitis, there is much emphysema, considerable risk is run by
coming to this elevation. However, when the emphysema is moderate in
extent, and exertion is avoided for the first few weeks, the readier
clearing of the bronchial tubes allows the sound portions of the
lungs to be more perfectly used; the strain upon the emphysematous
parts being thereby relieved, the patient ultimately breathes with
greater comfort, and the bronchitis is in time removed. Where old,
chronic bronchitis with emphysema exists there is frequently marked
dilatation of the right side of the heart, in which case a patient
should by all means avoid Colorado.
"_Advanced Cases._--Where the disease is much advanced it goes
without saying that no honest physician would recommend a change of
climate, and especially so great a change as to an elevation of
several thousand feet; but cases do often come of their own will,
cheered by the delusive hope that is characteristic of the disease,
and though the result is usually a hastening of the end, yet death is
generally less tedious and harassing, the sick one frequently being
out enjoying the sunshine up to the last day, dying quietly and
quickly with a failing heart, instead of being confined to bed for
days or weeks in a close, heavy atmosphere, which impedes the last
struggling efforts at respiration.
TIME OF STAY.
"In cases of decided phthisical tendency, even in the first stage,
the treatment should extend over some years, though whether the
whole or a portion of each year should be spent on the mountains
depends much upon the character of the individual and the place.
"That those cured of phthisis upon the mountains can never live again
low down, is not the case; of course a cured consumptive will have to
take care of himself for some years, and a return to the social and
climatic conditions in which he got sick will always be dangerous,
but this difficulty is usually much greater for those who have been
cured in warm places than those who have been hardened by the
mountains."
I have given all the above copious extracts, because it appeared to
me while I was at Colorado Springs, that many people lived and
enjoyed good health there, who _could_ not live elsewhere. Some told
me so much, and declared the place was full of similar cases. A part
of these were English, of whom some had tried the Riviera, and they
averred that Colorado Springs was much better for all pulmonary
complaints than the northern shores of the Mediterranean. When we
consider how easy it is to get to Colorado, seven days to New York,
and three and a half days beyond by rail, with luxurious comforts,
and no fatigue for invalids, it is, I think, well that sufferers in
England, and on the Continent too, should know of the existence of
this charming spot and health-giving locality.
But any one interested and wishing to know more should get the book
alluded to. I could only in my extracts pick out what appeared to me
the most important parts, and I need not say the above gives no idea
of the excellence of the work both in a medical and social point of
view. I know not if it is procurable in London, but its title is
"Colorado Springs and Manitou," and it is for sale by P. Blakiston,
Son, and Co., 1012, Walnut Street, Philadelphia.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] Snow, when melted, leaves the ground dry. Garments, fresh from
the wash-tub, hung out in the shade, dry in half an hour!
CHAPTER VI.
Ranch again--Tea--American press--Celebrities
victimized--Last journey--Chicago--Beauty--Niagara
missed--New York--Atlantic--Home.
After my holiday at Colorado Springs, I returned to the ranch, and
soon began my preparations for leaving. The climate is the same at
both places. It was then the end of September, and nothing could
exceed its perfection. Never a cloud in the sky, but bright sunshine
all day long, with a bracing atmosphere and a pleasant temperature
withal. Then came October, which was equally fine, but the nights
began to be very cold. However the house was fairly air-tight, we had
good stoves, and spent jolly evenings, to which a cask of excellent
beer I had got from Denver contributed not a little. There was much
to settle as to how my sons would act, as regards ranch work, after
my departure. They were greatly pleased at being landowners, had the
sanguine expectations of success so natural at their age, and I am
afraid to say how many pipes we got through discussing the bright
future they painted. Then came a "snow storm" for a day and a night
(it's always so named in America); for twenty-four hours the flakes
fell incessantly, and all was white around with nine inches of snow.
The following morning the sun rose in his usual cloudless splendour,
and shone brightly all day, leaving no snow except on the hills, when
darkness came, while owing to the dry atmosphere all moisture had
evaporated, and the ground was dry. But the night succeeding was
bitterly cold. The thermometer fell to Zero, or near it, and yet when
we had been up four hours, the temperature stood at 60° again! This
is the usual thing in the high lands of Colorado (and the Water Ranch
is near 6000 feet high), for warm days and cold nights are the rule
in winter, and hot days and cool nights in summer. Verily, it is a
superb climate.
As regards the want of courtesy in America, which I have more than
once dilated on, I was at this time much struck with the
following:--I saw a girl, some sixteen years old, at the railway
station, or rather "Dēpot," as it is named and pronounced there.
She was evidently waiting for a train, seated near her trunk. There
was no one close by, and she came up to me. She was a particularly
pretty-looking girl, nicely dressed, and seemed to be of a better
class than the usual inhabitants in that somewhat out-of-the-way part
of the country. I expected therefore, when she addressed me, she
would do it nicely. The following passed:--
_Girl._--"I can't fix my box--you do it."
The rope had come off.
_Myself._--"Yes, I'll help you. Are you waiting for the train?"
_Girl._--"Guess you are right. How stupid you are, don't fix it in
that way. Can't you see the rope is long enough to go twice round?"
_Myself._--"All right, I'll do it so."
Having completed the job, as the young lady was sitting on the one
chair available, I sat on her box, which was a large and strong one.
_Girl._--"You fixed it well, thank you, but don't sit on my box."
_Myself._--"Why not?"
_Girl._--"Because I don't like it. Can't you sit on the steps?"
_Myself._--"No, thank you, I'll stand."
_Girl._--"Tell me when is the train dōō."
_Myself._--"Immediately. There it is coming now."
_Girl._--"Guess the box is too heavy for one man. Will you help to
fix it upon the car?"
She did not wait for a reply, but ran and took her place. No more
thanks. I looked round for some one to help with her box, and as I
did so she put her head out of the window, and called to a man who
was sitting in a cart, and had probably brought her and the trunk.
"Jimmy, can't you see my box? Help that man standing by it to ship it
on the car."
Jimmy did kindly help me, and so the difficulty was got over, but I
saw or heard no more of the American lassie.
As I made notes of the above (I filled many pocket-books in that way
in America), I pondered and thought it over. I don't at all believe
the girl meant to be rude or unkind, it's quite likely she would
have done as much as she asked of me for some one else, but she had
not been brought up to consider courtesy a necessity, and most
certainly did not practise it.
The tea usually drunk in the States is dreadful stuff. As I am
interested in the growth of tea in India, I inquired much as to the
prospects of that tea if sent there, and on my return to England, I
wrote the following to one of the papers devoted to tea matters in
Calcutta. I give it here, as it exemplifies the difficulty of getting
good tea in America, which so many English appreciate, and because
large numbers here now are interested in the tea industry of
Hindustan.
TEA IN AMERICA.
Would you like to hear as to the prospects of
Indian tea in America? Having been in the States
some five months and looked into the matter, I can
tell you.
At present Indian tea is literally unknown on that
side of the water. Not only is the tea unknown,
but, with few exceptions, no one here is cognizant
of the fact that any tea is produced in Hindustan.
This, considering that a fair amount of Indian tea
has been sent to America, may appear strange. But
the explanation is not far to seek. When those who
have not travelled in it speak of that country,
they do not realize its vast size. How many dozen
countries like England joined together would equal
the area of the United States? Take away Scotland
and Wales and all that remains, England proper,
could be put into Lake Superior! Is it strange
then that the comparatively little Indian tea sent
has never penetrated into the interior? Again, the
tea sent has been delivered in New York. There,
and there alone, and in a very minor degree, has
it begun to run the course it has pursued in
England for years. Very nearly all received has
been used to mix with other and weak teas, but the
whole quantity has been hitherto far too small to
visibly affect the strength even of the teas sold
in New York.
Speaking generally, two kinds of tea are used in
the States--Java green tea, and what they name
"English breakfast tea." The first is Java, and
that only, and more woful stuff I have never
tasted. It is far weaker than the Chinese mixtures
which were used in England years ago, ere the
Indian teas came into play. It is literally
tasteless. It has no aroma, and very little
colour. I never tasted so bodyless an infusion.
Nine-tenths of the Americans drink the above.
The other, styled "English breakfast tea," is a
compound of Chinese black teas; and into this (the
percentage very small, for all received will give
no more) is sometimes put a little Indian. Bad as
it is, 'tis better than the Java beverage, but, as
compared with the general tea sold in England
to-day, which is more than one-third Indian, it is
a tasteless mixture.
In two words, I conceive all, or nearly all, the
Indian tea sent to the States has been used up in
New York, and consequently it would be strange if
it were known elsewhere.
I travelled much in America, south to New Orleans,
west to San Francisco. I asked as to Indian tea in
many places. I found it in two only. At a
tea-store in San Francisco (excuse the word
"store," there are no shops in America) I found
one kind, an inferior Souchong, with much red
leaf. Still it was very drinkable, and I used no
other while on the western coast. It had come, I
was told, from Bengal, across the Pacific.
Ordinary as the tea was, the store-keeper told me
he sold much of it.
The only other place I got Indian tea was at
Denver, the capital of Colorado. But it was in a
shop kept by an Englishman named Cornforth. He had
a large and very successful grocery business and
made tea a speciality. He knew all about Indian
tea, and had some of the very best, a high-class
Pekoe Souchong, said to be from Assam. I was some
weeks in Colorado (I bought a ranch there for my
sons) and drank Mr. Cornforth's tea all the time.
I used to give it to the Americans who came to my
house, and they invariably liked it. Mr. Cornforth
sells much of it in Denver, and many, his manager
told me, drink it pure. Shortly, my experience
leads me to believe that Indian tea could be
easily introduced into the States.
Were it done, think of the result. The Americans
drink individually far more tea than we do. As a
rule, they are a sober race. When they drink
alcohol, it is a big drink, lasting two or three
days, and then for weeks nothing but tea and
coffee, but far more of the former. I have not the
statistics handy, but I doubt not for "tea per
head" the denizens of the United States equal the
New Zealanders, who I had previously thought the
largest consumers on earth. Then, again, consider
the area covered by those tea-drinkers. If Indian
tea ever becomes popular with them, the Indian and
Ceylon plantations will have to be increased
threefold to satisfy the demand.
Tea, I well know, is an aquired taste, and it is
not easily, or quickly, that even a better produce
will make its way, opposed as it is, to the
flavour which has become familiar. But we had
exactly the same difficulty in England, and have
conquered. We _can_ do the same in America. We
cannot expect them, they will not (they did not in
England, even few do so here now) drink it pure.
It will run in the States as it has here, and runs
in a great measure still. Used to mix with and
give body to weak teas, our trans-Atlantic cousins
will be _taught_ to appreciate the improved
flavour, ignorant as the many will still be of the
cause. The taste will grow. More will yearly be
demanded, and in time, a long time I admit, may
happen what will now certainly occur in England in
five years more, half the consumption will be
Indian.
But how is it to be so introduced? Certainly not
by the very puny efforts made hitherto. The
quantity sent should be multiplied many times, and
arrangements made to forward it on arrival, to
some, if not all, of the great cities in the
interior. There it should be sold at auction to
the highest bidders, as done here in the Lane.
Were this done for two or three years, the
introduction would be accomplished (it has not
been begun yet) and the tea would then make its
own way.
But how as to the financial result? Losses at
first there would be. Some sacrifice must always
be made to carry out large enterprises, but they
would not be heavy or of long duration, and every
rupee embarked therein would eventually bring
back a hundredfold to the tea industry.
Only the Tea Associations of London and Calcutta
can carry it out, and even they cannot do it if
the garden owners in India and Ceylon do not help.
You can assist likewise. Will you kindly do so?
London, 22nd January, 1886. EDWARD MONEY.
I have spoken of the American Press before, but have more to add
here, as during my stay on the ranch I saw much of papers published
at Denver, the capital of Colorado. If a tradesman wants his goods
advertised successfully, it is merely a question of money to get the
Editor to allude to them in the body of the paper. Not as done at the
bottom of columns with the word "advt." joined on, as some papers
print such in England, but in the editorial articles, and as if the
notice was put in by the Editor himself, struck with the superiority
of what is recommended! Here are one or two examples. These were in
the body of the paper, among items of news, &c.
REMOVED.--Gallup, the florist so long at 370
Curtis street, can be found hereafter at 321
Sixteenth street, still with Tunnel & Co. A
competent lady floral worker has charge and all
orders will receive prompt attention. An
abundance of fine flowers always on hand.
Telephone connections with greenhouse on Broadway.
MADAME STOUFFS is in charge of Joslin's costume
department, and is prepared to receive orders for
all kinds of costumes, satisfaction guaranteed in
every respect.
HALFORD SAUCE, for uniform use.
YOUMAN'S fall stiff hats are now on sale at J. A.
McClurg & Co.'s.
JOSLIN'S have the finest line of dry goods to be
found in the West.
COLD WEATHER is coming on, and the little ones
must be shod accordingly. If you wish to save
money, go to 232, Fifteenth street, just below
Holladay. W. H. Moore.
SEE the assortment of fancy plated jewelry at
Joslin's.
Another feature is sensational headings. No matter what the subject,
the most sensational heading that can be devised appears in large
print above it. Political leaders, social news, financial articles
are all treated the same way. I had many but lost them. Here are two
examples however.
ABDUCTION AND ATTEMPTED MURDER:
THE PUEBLO SENSATION.
SILVERTON TREATED TO SOME HARMLESS
REVOLVER PRACTICE.
Here, in England, expressions are occasionally made use of in the
House which would be better omitted, but the perpetrating delinquent
is quickly called to order. Not so in the States. It is difficult to
say from the following political leader, if, at the scene described,
the combatants came to blows or not, but as it is stated the
Sergeant-at-arms failed to keep the peace, and the heading says they
"had it out on the floor," I incline to the belief that Messrs.
McGilvray and Montgomery _did_ indulge in a sparring-match, doubtless
to the delight and edification of their brother statesmen.
The first heading would be unintelligible did I not state that
"dukes" mean fists. Sensational enough in all conscience!
"NOW, PUT UP YOUR DUKES."
STORMY AND DISGRACEFUL SCENES IN THE DEMOCRATIC
STATE CONVENTION.
BOSS MCGILVRAY AND B. F. MONTGOMERY HAVE IT OUT ON
THE FLOOR--JUDGE W. F. STONE NOMINATED.
The proceedings of the State Democratic
Convention, held at Turner Hall, yesterday, were
disgraceful enough to bring a blush even to the
cheek of a Democrat. "Liar," "snide," "put up
your dukes, if you want to fight," cat-calls,
hooting, and yelling filled up a greater part of
the deliberations of the august body. Boss
McGilvray, of the Seventh Ward, and B. F.
Montgomery, statesman-at-large, vented their
personal animosities towards each other. McGilvray
said that Montgomery had prostituted every trust,
both public and private, ever given into his
hands, and Montgomery retaliated by saying that it
could not be charged against him, that he was an
apostate in the ranks of the party, a Republican
who had been brought up in the slums of Chicago.
This was a dig at McGilvray, and he responded by
calling Montgomery a liar, and offering to fight
him on the floor of the Convention.
The breeze grew out of McGilvray's opposition to
Montgomery for Chairman of the Convention. The
Committee on Permanent Organization reported in
favor of Montgomery for Chairman, and McGilvray
moved to strike out his name, and substitute that
of G. Q. Richmond, of Pueblo. It was a bitter
fight, and the result was a McGilvray victory.
Montgomery was thrown overboard by an overwhelming
majority.
Martin Currigan, the irrepressible, was on hand,
and was made Sergeant-at-Arms; but he failed to be
of any avail in keeping the peace.
Judge Wilbur F. Stone was nominated for the
Supreme Bench without opposition.
The resolutions endorse the administration of
President Cleveland, favor the free and unlimited
coinage of silver on the present basis, denounce
the fencing of large bodies of public land, and
insist upon the strict enforcement of the Chinese
restriction act.
Interviewing is a science in America. Who has read "Martin
Chuzzlewit" and not laughed over Dickens' description of it? Woe to
the man or woman who goes to the States with anything in the way of a
reputation. He or she will have no more peace than a titled
individual has, for remember a lord with no reputation, or a bad one
(the latter for choice), is as much an object of curiosity and
adulation as the most renowned intellectual genius. It is amusing
when any woman, famous for beauty, wealth, intellect, or anything
else, visits the States. No sooner does she land than everybody would
do anything for her. "She must at once be interviewed" is the dictum
at each and every newspaper office, and interviewed she is, by one or
more of that artist class, on some pretence or other, whether she
likes it or not. I say "artist class" for, considering their
wonderful ingenuity in pursuit of their object, they richly deserve
the name. If the lady, and thank God many are, is modest and
retiring, and cares not to see her name and antecedents blazoned
forth in the public prints, and resolutely refuses to see _any_
strangers on _any_ plea,--what happens? Do they desist and leave her
alone? Not a bit of it. They _will_ see her, _coûte que coûte_, and
what's more they do! Cases are recorded, when in the guise of a
waiter the opportunity by interviewers to see her at least has been
found. Or, should she send out for any article, the individual
bringing it is an interviewer, and in this capacity, in some
ingenious way, the pretended tradesman is sure to get hold of
something. If all other means fail, the chambermaid of her room is
pressed into the service, and as regards the poor lady's clothing, if
not more, she can and does tell much. _Anyhow_ the victim does not
escape. Information is highly paid for and obtained somehow. If she
be a celebrity, something has appeared in the English or Continental
press about her long ago, and with due foresight has been cut out,
and labelled with her name, on the chance of her visiting America
later. There it is ready in the office, and is duly made use of. But,
if the information get-at-able is in any way insufficient and scanty,
the editor or manager of the paper quietly remarks that "_Some_
antecedents there must necessarily have been, that it's a tarnation
shame of the said lioness not to assist them to do her honour, but
that as she is so blind to her own advantage, and it's a positive
necessity that an article about her should appear next morning, the
deficiency must be made up." Well he, or some one he deputes, sits
down at the last moment (for there are many on watch, and information
may drop in during the night) to write the article, which in any case
is highly coloured, and as antecedents are scanty and the public
_must_ not be disappointed, plausible ones are invented.
Anyhow, next morning articles appear, possibly to the effect that the
lovely and talented Mrs., or Miss, A. B. landed yesterday from the
Cunard steamer, and took up her abode at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
where spacious rooms had been previously secured. That the editor,
from exceptional sources of information, is able to lay before his
readers the following short sketch of the talented artiste's previous
life, and that it will be his endeavour to supplement this by more
facts on the morrow. Then follows a biographical history from the
cradle upwards, closing with the _menu_ of yesterday's dinner. Too
much is not said in this first notice, the subject must not be
exhausted, and materials for further articles are reserved. Poor
Mrs., or Miss, A. B., at breakfast that morning, reads much about
herself of which she had been previously ignorant!
But this is only the beginning of the campaign. The next day, thanks
to the chambermaid, the waiter and others, a more or less accurate
list of the wardrobe appears, the jewels she wore the previous day,
and those still in the jewel-case, what time she got up, what she ate
at breakfast, where she went in the day, how well the hat she wore
suited the dress, what a lovely colour her hair is, how her fringe
(if she had one) gave her a childish grace, how (if she had none)
wisely she acted in discarding that woful fashion, and what a
patrician look the absence of it gave to her lovely face, &c., &c.
From early morn till she goes to bed (the description kindly halts
there) her movements are recorded, and on morning No. 3 the public
are informed that Mrs., or Miss, A. B. slept well, and awoke with a
fresh colour to add to her other charms!
I need not dilate more. The excitement is kept alive by daily
notices. Paper vies against paper in describing and commenting on her
European antecedents and her life since she landed, until some new
star appears, or until, often the case, the poor lady, in spite of
the press assertions that all this homage delights her, is fairly
driven out of New York. Some, alas! cannot seek safety in flight,
their avocations oblige them to remain; such, it can only be hoped,
grow callous, until, the subject being well threshed out and grown
threadbare, they are left at peace.
I give here, complete, an article on one of such poor victims, cut
out of a Denver paper, which, in its callous indifference to the pain
it must have caused the lady under discussion, is a good example.
But, as I would not drag this lady into further publicity, I have
substituted an initial for her name, which was plainly given in the
newspaper. "Madeline's Mash" does duty for Madeline's Lover. The
sensational headings, and interpositions in large type, are worthy of
notice.
MADELINE'S MASH.
THE APPEARANCE IN DENVER OF A DISTINGUISHED
SOCIETY LADY.
RECALLING A TRAGEDY WHEREIN AN ENGLISH ACTOR WAS
THE LEADING ARTIST.
The train hence to Kansas City via the Burlington
road on yesterday afternoon departed, as usual, on
time and, as usual, heavily laden. There was
indeed more than the ordinary complement of
pilgrims, remarked the Depot Superintendent, and
made up of the class who travel luxuriously--of
the class to whom luxuries are every-day
experiences and whose journeyings, whether from
lands of snow to lands of sun or to lands of snow
from lands of sun, are accompanied by holiday
pleasures. Among those whom the train bore
Eastwardly was a fair daughter of Eve, about whose
life has been woven a romance, a tragedy as dire
in its effects upon two families, at least, as was
the tragedy woven out of the warp and woof of the
romance born of Paris and Helen. She is related to
one of the wealthiest and most prominent families
of the country, both socially and financially, and
though upwards of forty years of age is yet
youthful in appearance and hoydenish as a Vassar
miss proud in the possession of her first beau.
Twenty years ago she was a Gotham belle, and
related to the L.'s, occupied a position of social
distinction, which wealth, beauty and graces of
character perfectly combined inevitably procure.
In the heydey of her youth and beauty she was
married, but scarcely mated, to a representative
of the Knickerbocker regime and, as is
represented, barely consented
TO ENDURE THE BURDEN
officiously ambitious relatives had buckled on her
back. It ended as all other matches wherein
affection is made to pay tribute to other
considerations end, in separation, infatuation
with another, death, disgrace, exile. Her home is
said to have been unhappy, a cheerless place,
unwarmed by an atmosphere of love, whence an
impulsive woman unconsciously went out to one who
appreciated and was a friend to her. Of course she
was obliged to encounter opposition, ostracism,
social annihilation with the classes whereof she
was at once the peer and superior. But little she
cared, and in the _salons_ of Paris, Berlin,
Vienna, and St. Petersburgh, she found the salad
of variety that was denied her at home up to 1867.
She was a regnant queen at Washington, Cape May,
Saratoga--in short, at every point she honored
with her presence. She was the objective point of
attraction to the grave and gay, to the solemn and
severe. But while she outwardly accepted, and with
pleasure, the homage men deemed themselves
privileged to bestow, those familiar with the
skeleton in the closet of Madeline R.'s heart,
speak of her as one who suffered in silence, until
it was a change or a mad-house, and she sought the
change.
Those who were visitors to, or residents of New
York city during 1867 will remember the advent of
Walter Montgomery, the English actor. He came
almost unheralded, but in the brief period of his
sojourn
ACHIEVED A DRAMATIC TRIUMPH
unparalleled in the history of the American stage.
In form and appearance he was a magnificent
creation. A trifle larger than Edwin Booth, with
a physique modelled by the master-hand of nature,
a physiognomy of classic outlines, and a genius
for his art, that is said to have rivalled that
displayed by the most noted histrions of the
English stage. In all respects he is said to have
been as ravishingly perfect as the forms Angelo
hewed from blocks of marble, or Guido traced on
canvas, which to-day haunt the memory as a
vanished gleam of sunlight, that kissed life's
rippling river--and then was gone. In addition to
the qualities mentioned there was entire absence
of the shilly-shallying practices many actors
delight to indulge, in their efforts to secure
applause or attract the admiration of susceptible
females. He was esteemed, an accomplished artist
and true man. He opened at Niblo's in "Ruy Blas,"
making his headquarters at the Metropolitan, and
frequenting a theatrical club-house on Houston
street, known as the "House of Lords." Socially,
he was never received by the Knickerbockers of the
Empire city, his relations with men of letters and
the professions were extremely cordial. How Mrs.
R. and himself became acquainted is not clearly
defined. But that acquaintance on her part was
resolved into an infatuation irresistible and
indescribable, and she succeeded in inspiring him
with
A RECIPROCITY OF FEELING
that was not to be misunderstood. Wherever he went
professionally, she was constantly included in the
list of his admirers. Upon the Eastern circuit,
throughout the West, from Pittsburg to the Pacific
slope, the susceptible Madeline was first and
foremost among those who worshipped at the shrine
of this gifted exponent of Melpomene.
Upon his return to New York from San Francisco, he
concluded his engagements and sailed for Liverpool
by the Cunard steamship Scotia. By this time the
attentions bestowed upon Montgomery by Mrs. R. had
become more than a topic of comment with observers
beyond the pale of the social set of which she had
been a prime factor. It was reported that they
were engaged to be married, and that his return to
England was for the purpose of completing
arrangements in that behalf. At all events she
accompanied him as a fellow-passenger on the
Scotia but reached England alone, for during the
voyage Montgomery suicided by cutting his throat.
No cause was ever assigned for the deed, but the
fact that he had a wife, living in London
impressed his friends with the belief that remorse
at the lengths to which he had permitted his
FLIRTATION WITH MRS. R.
to proceed, prompted the deed. He was buried in
Kensal Green, within sight of St. Paul's, and
after the completion of the ceremonies at the
grave his whilom admirer disappeared, to come to
the surface at Paris as the promised wife of Sir
St. George Gore, a landed proprietor of Tasmania,
off the coast of Australia, and a man of wealth
and prominence in the British possessions of the
South Pacific. But it is not believed this
alliance was perfected by a priestly benediction.
Since then she has been a wanderer. Possessed of
wealth, beauty, accomplishments, and much that
would command esteem, she seeks to find in the
excitement of travel a solace for her wasted life,
and in intercourse with strangers forgetfulness of
her woes. She is said to have come hither from San
Francisco via Cheyenne, and that during her stay
here she was known as Mrs. F.
One more example of the same kind. The President is about to be
married. The following is from a London paper, and though not so
stated, it is, I trust, only inserted as a picture of the American
system of lionizing any celebrity. The name of the bride that is to
be is given in full. I substitute an initial. I conceive the article
is taken from a New York paper, but this is not clearly stated, only
that the source is American.
President Cleveland's approaching marriage is now
regarded as a certainty. It is understood that the
engagement took place during Miss F.'s last visit
to Washington. If Mr. Cleveland is married at the
White House, in June, it will be the second
marriage of a President during his term of office.
Mr. Tyler was married while he was President, but
his marriage took place in New York. The best
portrait of Miss F. now in Washington is a large
one, which hangs in the President's bedroom. Miss
F. was very averse to giving a sitting to the
photographers when she was here, and has a great
horror of publicity. When she was in Washington
last, a number of paragraphs were printed about
her school life, which she traced to one or two of
her school friends. She quarrelled with them for
it. It is said that she went away to Europe so as
to be out of the range of possible gossip and
criticism during the engagement period. Miss F.'s
hair (says a correspondent) is soft and brown, of
a shade between light and dark. It is combed well
back from her full forehead and loose wave
tendrils fall away from their confinement against
the ivory whiteness of her face. She has violet
blue eyes, a well-shaped nose and mouth, and a
full, round chin. The warm pallor of her
complexion contrasts with the deep red of her full
lips, in which all her colour concentrates itself.
Her shoulders are broad, and her bust and waist of
classic proportions. She has finely moulded hands
and feet; not small, but well suited to her
height. With one other pupil at Aurora she shared
the palm of being "the beauty of the school," the
other being Miss Katherine Willard, of Illinois,
who was her intimate friend, though not a
fellow-senior, and she is now in Germany
cultivating her voice. Miss F. has been with her
there during much of the past winter. Many of the
young ladies have flowers pressed in their albums,
labelled "From the White House," these being
mementoes given by her from the boxes of flowers
weekly sent her by the President from his
conservatories here. For her graduation, last
June, he forwarded a particularly lavish supply.
On that occasion she wore white satin, and, as one
of her schoolmates describes her, "looked more
like a goddess than a woman." Her student life has
been marked by seriousness and deep religious
feeling. She is a member of the First Presbyterian
Church of Buffalo. She was deeply loved by her
teachers, more for her solidity of character and
amiability of disposition than for exceptionally
brilliant intellectual traits, though her average
of scholarship was good.
The postal arrangements are good in the States. Postage is cheap, and
letters are carried and delivered as safely there as in England. The
street post-boxes though are not equal to English ones--they are
small in size and fastened against the walls, instead of being
prominent objects like ours. In some few towns, owing to the scarcity
of labour, letters are not delivered at all. Each resident has a
number assigned, and a corresponding pigeon-hole at the post-office,
where his or her letters are placed. The letters have to be called or
sent for. This was the case at Colorado Springs.
Why I know not, but the rule of the road is different in the States
to ours. On meeting we take the left side, on passing the right;
there they do just the opposite, as in France.
As a rule the Americans are not good drivers. A very common, not
universal, habit is to hold a rein in each hand, and it goes without
saying that a person doing so cannot drive well.
Their trotting-horses in the trotting-carriages (very light,
four-wheeled vehicles, models of good workmanship, with fore and hind
wheels of the same size) perform wonders. I speak under correction,
but believe fifteen or sixteen miles in the hour is not an unusual
feat. Anyhow, I am sure they can trot much faster than any horses we
have.
As foolish as we are in that way, the bearing-rein is used in the
States. But it is taken over the top of the head between the ears. I
know not if this is better or worse than our plan, but this I do
know, bearing-reins, like blinkers, are hurtful, cruel appendages to
harness, and in India, where I owned horses, I used neither. Had I
horses in England I would do the same.
The roads in the States are far behind ours. Perhaps to this is due
the fact that there are not many bicycles and tricycles to be seen.
In the first days of November, 1885, I left the ranch on my way home.
It was a trial parting with my sons. Let them even do well, it is
pretty certain they will not return to England under fifteen years. I
am not young, and I could not help feeling, as I said good-bye, that
it was very doubtful if I should ever see them again. Still we parted
cheerfully, for they were happy with their possessions and the
sanguine hope that they were on the high road to fortune.
I had taken my passage home across the Atlantic in one of the Monarch
line of steamers, and not caring to halt _en route_, or linger in New
York, I timed my departure from Colorado with no day to spare. At
Denver I took a rail-ticket through to New York, and did the
distance, about 1700 miles, in eighty-four hours, halting nowhere
except the necessary time to make connection at the principal
stations between the incoming and outgoing trains. I have not much to
say as to this my last journey in the States, still I will briefly
describe the country passed through. Nebraska was the first state
after leaving Colorado. This, again, like Texas and Wyoming, is a
vast country of grassy plains, on which many thousands of cattle are
reared. The endless plains, though rich in grass, look desolate,
owing to the total absence of trees, except in the vicinity of towns,
where some attempt has been made to remedy the want. It is a very
thinly inhabited state; for miles and miles, as we swiftly passed on,
not a soul could be seen. The rail line through it, from west to
east, is about 480 miles long.
Iowa was the next, and beyond that Illinois. They are much alike, so
I will describe them together. They are very rich pastoral countries,
with large towns, and abound in farms. The scenery in many parts is
beautiful, and the general outlook very English. Iowa, by the rail,
is about 320 miles across, Illinois about 180 miles.
On the western boundary of Illinois, joining Indiana, and on the
southern shore of Lake Michigan, stands the wonderful city of
Chicago: wonderful in its quick growth, and wonderful in the way the
ravages of the great fire there have been replaced. I was
necessarily, by the time-table of the trains, delayed there some six
hours, so I walked through the town. It is a beautiful one, not equal
in that respect to San Francisco, but still far ahead of New York.
Like both the said cities, Chicago is overrun with tram-cars, and
like them also other wheel-vehicles are in the minority. Its position
on the shore of that vast lake, and on the direct line of rail, is a
commanding one for all purposes of trade and commerce, and doubtless
to this, in a great measure, may its quick growth be attributed.
Formerly, before the fire, it was, I believe, nearly all wood, now
the greater part is brick and stone. It is built on the plan of all
American towns, in square blocks, so that the streets, which are
wide, all run at right angles to each other. It boasts many very
handsome buildings, and the display in the shop windows of huge plate
glass quite equals London, or Paris either. I was very glad of the
six hours' delay, which enabled me to see this magnificent city. Lake
Michigan was the first sight I had of those five vast sheets of fresh
water, all joining together, which is such a unique feature in North
America. As I stood on the shore and saw the boundless waters before
me, it was difficult to realize that I gazed on a lake and not on the
ocean.
I saw a number of pretty faces at Chicago, and I then first began to
think what I should say in this book about the beauty of women in the
States. In no country on earth, my experience teaches me, is beauty
as common as in Great Britain. Every fourth young girl you meet
here, be it in Ireland, England, Scotland, or Wales, has some
pretensions to good looks. Perhaps, anyway in my opinion, the claim
for beauty as regards the four countries follows in the order in
which I have named them. In America, on the contrary, beauty is not
sown broadcast through the land, but then to make up for this, when
it is found it is very perfect. Some American girls and women are
extremely handsome, but in America, far more than in Europe, beauty
clings to the upper classes. One point further; I doubt if beauty is
as _lasting_ on the other side of the Atlantic as it is here. I
believe the high temperature the rooms are kept at with stoves during
the severe cold of winter is, to some extent, answerable for this,
and the extremes of temperature in summer and winter are doubtless
another cause.
While perambulating Chicago, being a stranger, I had to ask my way,
and I was then struck, as I had been both in New York and San
Francisco, how much better the place desired is pointed out in
London. Say you want to find Bond Street and ask the way. If anywhere
in the vicinity, the answer is, "Second to the right, first to the
left, and first again to the left," or as it may be, and following
such a direction is not difficult. Having found Bond Street, the
houses are all numbered, and so you easily get to the one you want.
Say in any American city there is a street called Montgomery Street
and you ask your way there. The answer is, "On Tenth, between Market
and Cheese," and the interrogated passes on. You think the man is
laughing at you, are angry, and ask again. A woman this time, the men
all seem in such a woful hurry. Again the same answer, "On Tenth,
between Market and Cheese." You are bewildered. Can this be a
stereotyped joke? You essay a third time, result the same. But the
third person you ask is perhaps more considerate, and, seeing your
look of astonishment, and divining you are a Britisher, he deigns to
explain. After listening a few minutes, you find that the said answer
should read, "Out of Tenth Street, between Market Street and Cheese
Street;" and adds the interrogated, "But, you see, we've no time to
spare in this city, and so answer as short as we can; besides every
one knows 'Cheese' means Cheese Street."
Well, anyhow, you now know that Montgomery Street, which you seek,
leads out of Tenth Street, and is between Market Street and Cheese
Street. The first thing, of course, is to find Tenth Street. You ask
your way there. The same answer in kind, though not in words, "On
Lawrence, between Nine and Eleven." You do not now think it is a
joke, and though confused, determined to see where it will end, you
ask again for Lawrence Street. This time you are lucky, Lawrence
Street abuts on the street you are in, which is Eighth Street, and
the answer is, "Three blocks on." You have learnt before this that
all American towns are built in blocks, the streets running between.
So "three blocks on" is tantamout to "four turnings on," and thus you
easily find Lawrence Street. If you have not forgotten, which you
likely enough have, the previous directions, you have now to seek
Tenth, which leads out of Lawrence Street. Walking down Lawrence
Street, you come to Ninth Street, running off at right angles, so
Tenth Street is the next turning, and down that, between Market
Street and Cheese Street, as told, you find the street you want, viz.
Montgomery Street.
The above, to read, sounds puzzling, but, believe me, it is no
exaggeration. You soon get accustomed to the word "street" being
omitted, but as you don't know the town at all, to be told the street
you ask for leads out of another, with the names of the streets on
either side, does not help you much. Why such a roundabout mode of
direction is adopted, and it holds all over the States, I never could
understand. It may answer for those who know the town more or less,
but an outsider it helps but little.
Having attained the street you seek, your troubles are not at an end.
Houses are supposed to be numbered; but, unfortunately, only in some
instances are the numbers marked on them, and if you ask for a
number, no one knows it. You have to explain to any one you inquire
of what kind of shop it is, and the name of the shopkeeper; or, if a
private house, the name of the dweller. If he knows it, you are then
told, either, "Six blocks down," or "Between Eleven and Twelve"
which, of course, you now understand; and after some trouble you find
it in the block between Eleventh Street and Twelfth Street.
Enough on this. Now as to a point in which the Americans excel us. As
I have said, all their cities and towns are laid out in square
blocks, the streets running between, and thus always at right angles
to one another. The streets running, say from north to south (I'm not
sure if I am right as to the points of the compass), are all
_numbered_ in succession, thus, first, second, third, and so on for
the whole number. The streets running the other way (say from east to
west) are all _named_. Numbering the first is convenient, for if it
is one of the numbered streets you seek there is no more difficulty
in finding it than a house where all are numbered. But strange that,
perceiving the advantage of this, as they of course do, the Americans
have not gone a step further, which, if done, would have enabled a
stranger to find _any_ street he sought without inquiry. If the
_named_ streets were given names, with the first letter of each in
alphabetical succession, as Alpha Street, Bishop Street, Canary
Street, right through, beginning from one end, the great desideratum
detailed above would be accomplished. In other words, whereas now you
can find any one of the numbered streets without inquiry, you could
then do just the same with the streets which are named.
Another peculiarity in American towns are strong wire ropes, running
high up across the street, from which, in the centre, depends,
generally in ornamental wire-scroll letters, the name of the
shopkeeper on one side and a _résumé_ of the articles he sells. In
some cases these are illuminated at night, and then have a pleasing
effect, besides helping to light the street. I could see no possible
objection to the plan, and if allowed in London, on the condition
that the owners illuminated them properly at their own cost, the sad
darkness our capital lies in, as compared with most others, would, in
a great measure, be done away with. Are we never going to light up
London with electricity? The Americans, on this point, are far ahead
of us. In every large town there the electric light is nearly
universal; and on the Continent, too, much more has been achieved in
that way than in England.
While on American peculiarities I must mention another, though it is
a little thing, and is only universal far out west. The cups have no
handles. This is certainly not an advantage when you are drinking hot
tea or coffee, for you simply can't lift the cup! I have mentioned
before that most of the crockery used in the States comes from
England, and in the case of cups for despatch long distances by rail,
I presume the handles are omitted to enable them to pack better, one
in the other, which of course they do.
I left Chicago when the six hours were up. It was then dark, and as I
slept through the state of Indiana I can say nothing about it. Next
morning we were in Ohio, and skirting the southern shore of Lake Erie
for some hours. I have nowhere seen more beautiful pastoral scenery
than I saw there, or a richer country. There were many perfect
country seats on the borders of that vast and superb lake, and
clean-looking pretty towns and villages. There is no want of rain in
this part of America, and the pasture-fields vied in their bright
green with those in Ireland, which so richly deserves the name of the
Emerald Isle.
In the evening we reached Buffalo, at the eastern extremity of Lake
Erie, and had an hour's halt there. That second wonderful sight in
the world (I hold the Himalayan snowy range to be the first), the
Niagara Falls, lay only twenty miles off, and I could not go and see
it! I had only just allowed myself time to catch the steamer from New
York, in which I had taken and paid for my passage, and I could not
afford to lose the money. I almost cried with vexation at my
stupidity, but the fact was I had not realized the line ran so near
the Falls. "Don't you tell any one," said an American to me in the
train, when we started again, "that you were so near, and yet missed
seeing _the_ great sight of our glorious country, because, you see,
it's neither creditable or credible, though to miss your passage to
Europe, I allow, would be a serious loss. Why didn't you fix it
otherwise?" I told him. "Well, keep it quiet," he added, "for your
own sake, as it's not a thing to boast of." I have not followed his
advice. Would you have done so, reader?
We were close to New York, or rather Jersey City, when I awoke next
morning. The terminus of the rail is in the latter. I steamed across
the Hudson river in one of the grand ferries, and at ten o'clock
breakfasted once more in the American capital.
The _cuisine_ is different in the States to ours. Many small dishes
are served in succession, something on the French plan, but the order
of succession is not so good, nor are the edibles themselves.
In all but the first and expensive hotels, bathing-towels there are
none, and those they give are wofully small and thin. They look and
feel more like pocket-handkerchiefs.
The blinds to the windows go up with a spring, but the said spring,
owing to the stuff of which the blinds are made being thick, harsh,
and stiff, seldom seems able to do more than pull the blind up
three-quarters of the way.
There is one great advantage in American hotels. The daily charge is
strictly an inclusive one, comprising meals, attendance, and
everything but alcoholic drinks. There are positively no extras, and
you depart in peace, not having to "remember" waiter, chambermaid, or
others.
Turning over my memoranda, I find one very peculiar habit which I
ought to have mentioned when out west, for I have not seen it
elsewhere. Suppose a man has a box of matches in his hand, and you
ask him for a light for your pipe. He takes out a match, lifts up the
right leg, bent at the knee to draw the trousers tight, and ignites
it on the lower part of the thigh. The effect is peculiar; he seems
to be drawing fire from that part of his body! No one there ever
lights matches any other way, and doubtless it is easier done so than
on any other object, as I learnt by experience. But the posture is
most inelegant and grotesque, and had any one prophesied, when I
first saw the feat, that I should ever do it, I should have laughed
scornfully. But habits, you see continually, take a strange hold of
you; my sons never lighted matches any other way, and I, trying it
once or twice, found it so convenient, I am almost ashamed to say I
was fast acquiring the practice when I left the ranch. Of course,
since my return to civilization, I have not been so naughty! I once,
in Colorado, saw a girl, and a very nice one, a lady's daughter of
ten years old, essay the feat, quite unconscious of doing anything
strange. Odd to relate, she succeeded, for petticoats are naturally
inferior to trousers as match illuminating surfaces. But the
performance convulsed me with laughter, while I pointed out to her
mother and her that in her case it was highly dangerous withal.
The _Monarch_ steamer left next morning early, so I slept on board.
She was a tiny boat as compared with the _City of Rome_, in which I
had come out, but a good one all the same. Except a twenty-four
hours' gale of wind, during which she behaved well, we had a smooth
passage. The passengers were not many. We were bound to London, so
came up the Channel and river, arriving in thirteen days. After the
bright skies I had revelled in, the foggy November weather we
encountered, after passing the Scilly Islands, was very gloomy in
comparison, and the dingy old Thames, when I recalled the Hudson
river, showed out painfully. Still England is _dear_ England to the
"Britisher," and as I landed at Blackwall I felt that, with all her
faults, I loved her still.
FINIS.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.