OVERLAND TO CALIFORNIA.
Our three travellers were seated in a Pullman car on the Erie Railway.
Frank remarked that they were like the star of empire, as they were
taking their way westward.
[Illustration: OVERLAND BY STAGE IN THE OLDEN TIME.]
Fred replied that he thought the star of empire had a much harder time
of it, as it had no cushioned seat to rest upon, and no plate-glass
window to look from.
[Illustration: OVERLAND BY RAIL IN A PULLMAN CAR.]
"And it doesn't go at the rate of thirty miles an hour," the Doctor
added.
[Illustration: COOKING-RANGE IN THE OLDEN TIME.]
[Illustration: COOKING-RANGE ON A PULLMAN CAR.]
"I'm not sure that I know exactly what the star of empire means," said
Frank. "I used the expression as I have seen it, but can't tell what it
comes from."
He looked appealingly at Doctor Bronson. The latter smiled kindly, and
then explained the origin of the phrase.
"It is found," said the Doctor, "in a short poem that was written more
than a hundred and fifty years ago, by Bishop Berkeley. The last verse
is like this:
"Westward the course of empire takes its way;
The first four acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day:
Time's noblest offspring is the last."
[Illustration: THE COURSE OF EMPIRE.]
"You see the popular quotation is wrong," he added; "it is the _course_
of empire that is mentioned in the poem, and not the _star_."
"I suppose," said Fred, "that the Bishop referred to the discovery of
America by Columbus when he sailed to the West, and to the settlement of
America which began on the Eastern coast and then went on to the West."
"You are exactly right," was the reply.
Frank added that he thought "star of empire" more poetical than "course
of empire."
[Illustration: WATERING-PLACE ON THE ERIE RAILWAY.]
"But course is more near to the truth," said Fred, "than star. Don't you
see that Bishop Berkeley wrote before railways were invented, and before
people could travel as they do nowadays? Emigrants, when they went out
West, went with wagons, or on horseback, or on foot. They travelled by
day and rested at night. Now--don't you see?--they made their course in
the daytime, when they couldn't see the stars at all; and when the stars
were out, they were asleep, unless the wolves or the Indians kept them
awake. They were too tired to waste any time over a twinkling star of
empire, but they knew all about the course."
There was a laugh all around at Fred's ingenious defence of the author
of the verse in question, and then the attention of the party was turned
to the scenery along the route. Although living near the line of the
Erie Railway, neither of the boys had ever been west of his station.
Everything was therefore new to the youths, and they took great interest
in the panorama that unrolled to their eyes as the train moved on.
[Illustration: VALLEY OF THE NEVERSINK.]
They were particularly pleased with the view of the valley of the
Neversink, with its background of mountains and the pretty town of Port
Jervis in the distance. The railway at one point winds around the edge
of a hill, and is far enough above the valley to give a view several
miles in extent.
[Illustration: STARUCCA VIADUCT.]
Frank had heard much about the Starucca Viaduct, and so had Fred, and
they were all anxiety to see it. Frank thought it would be better to
call it a bridge, as it was only a bridge, and nothing more; but Fred
inclined to the opinion that "viaduct" sounded larger and higher.
"And remember," said he to Frank, "it is more than twelve hundred feet
long, and is a hundred feet above the valley. It is large enough to have
a much bigger name than viaduct."
Frank admitted the force of the argument, and added that he didn't care
what name it went by, so long as it carried them safely over.
When they were passing the famous place, they looked out and saw the
houses and trees far below them. Fred said they seemed to be riding in
the air, and he thought he could understand how people must feel in a
balloon.
Doctor Bronson said he was reminded of a story about the viaduct.
"Oh! tell it, please," said the two boys, in a breath.
"It is this," answered the Doctor. "When the road was first opened, a
countryman came to the backwoods to the station near the end of the
bridge. He had never seen a railway before, and had much curiosity to
look at the cars. When the train came along, he stepped aboard, and
before he was aware of it the cars were moving. He felt the floor
trembling, and as he looked from the window the train was just coming
upon the viaduct. He saw the earth falling away, apparently, the
tree-tops far below him, and the cattle very small in the distance. He
turned pale as a sheet, and almost fainted. He had just strength enough
to say, in a troubled voice, to the man nearest him,
"Say, stranger, how far does this thing fly before it lights?"
"I don't wonder at it," said Fred; "you see, I thought of the same thing
when the train was crossing."
[Illustration: NIAGARA FALLS, FROM THE AMERICAN SIDE.]
The railway brought the party to Niagara, where they spent a day
visiting the famous cataract and the objects of interest in the
vicinity. Frank pronounced the cataract wonderful, and so did Fred;
whereupon the Doctor told them of the man who said Niagara was not at
all wonderful, as any other water put there would run down over the
Falls, since there was nothing to hinder its doing so. The real wonder
would be to see it go up again.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE OF THE WINDS.]
They looked at the Falls from all the points of view. They went under
the Canadian side, and they also went under the Central Fall, and into
the Cave of the Winds. They stood for a long time watching the water
tumbling over Horseshoe Fall, and they stood equally long on the
American side. When the day was ended, the boys asked the Doctor if he
would not permit them to remain another twenty-four hours.
"Why so?" the Doctor asked.
"Because," said Frank, with a bit of a blush on his cheeks--"because we
want to write home about Niagara and our visit here. Fred wants to tell
his mother about it, and I want to write to my mother and to Mary,
and--and--"
"Miss Effie, perhaps," Fred suggested.
Frank smiled, and said he might drop a line to Miss Effie if he had
time, and he was pretty certain there would be time if they remained
another day.
Doctor Bronson listened to the appeal of the boys, and when they were
through he took a toothpick from his pocket and settled back in his
chair in the parlor of the hotel.
"Your request is very natural and proper," he answered; "but there are
several things to consider. Niagara has been described many times, and
those who have never seen it can easily know about it from books and
other accounts. Consequently what you would write about the Falls would
be a repetition of much that has been written before, and even your
personal impressions and experiences would not be far different from
those of others. I advise you not to attempt anything of the kind, and,
at all events, not to stop here a day for that purpose. Spend the
evening in writing brief letters home, but do not undertake a
description of the Falls. If you want to stay a day in order to see
more, we will stay, but otherwise we will go on."
The boys readily accepted Doctor Bronson's suggestion. They wrote short
letters, and Frank did not forget Miss Effie. Then they went out to see
the Falls by moonlight, and in good season they went to bed, where they
slept admirably. The next day the journey was resumed, and they had a
farewell view of Niagara from the windows of the car as they crossed the
Suspension Bridge from the American to the Canadian side.
On they went over the Great Western Railway of Canada, and then over the
Michigan Central; and on the morning after leaving Niagara they rolled
into Chicago. Here they spent a day in visiting the interesting places
in the Lake City. An old friend of Doctor Bronson came to see him at the
Tremont House, and took the party out for a drive. Under the guidance of
this hospitable citizen, they were taken to see the City-hall, the
stock-yards, the tunnel under the river, the grain-elevators, and other
things with which every one who spends a short time in Chicago is sure
to be made familiar. They were shown the traces of the great fire of
1870, and were shown, too, what progress had been made in rebuilding the
city and removing the signs of the calamity. Before they finished their
tour, they had absorbed much of the enthusiasm of their guide, and were
ready to pronounce Chicago the most remarkable city of the present time.
As they were studying the map to lay out their route westward, the boys
noticed that the lines of the railways radiated in all directions from
Chicago, like the diverging cords of a spider's web. Everywhere they
stretched out except over the surface of Lake Michigan, where railway
building has thus far been impossible. The Doctor explained that Chicago
was one of the most important railway centres in the United States, and
owed much of its prosperity to the network they saw on the map.
"I have a question," said Frank, suddenly brightening up.
"Well, what is it?"
"Why is that network we have just been looking at like a crow calling to
his mates?"
"Give it up; let's have it."
"Because it makes Chi-ca-go."
"What's that to do with the crow?" Fred asked.
"Why, everything," Frank answered; "the crow makes ye-caw-go, doesn't
it?"
"Now, Frank," the Doctor said, as he laughed over the conundrum, "making
puns when we're a thousand miles from home and going west! However, that
will do for a beginner; but don't try too often."
Fred thought he must say something, but was undecided for a moment. The
room was open, and as he looked into the hall, he saw the chambermaid
approaching the opposite door with the evident intention of looking
through the keyhole. This gave him his opportunity, and he proposed his
question.
"Why are we like that chambermaid over there?"
"The Doctor and Frank couldn't tell, and Fred answered, triumphantly,
"Because we're going to Pek-in."
"I think you boys are about even now," said the Doctor, "and may stop
for the present." They agreed to call it quits, and resumed their study
of the map.
[Illustration: FROM CHICAGO TO SAN FRANCISCO.]
They decided to go by the Northwestern Railway to Omaha. From the latter
place they had no choice of route, as there was only a single line of
road between Omaha and California.
[Illustration: OMAHA.]
From Chicago westward they traversed the rich prairies of Illinois and
Iowa--a broad expanse of flat country, which wearied them with its
monotony. At Omaha they crossed the Missouri River on a long bridge; and
while they were crossing, Frank wrote some lines in his note-book to the
effect that the Missouri was the longest river in the world, and was
sometimes called the "Big Muddy," on account of its color. It looked
like coffee after milk has been added; and was once said by Senator
Benton to be too thick to swim in, but not thick enough to walk on.
Now they had a long ride before them. The Union Pacific Railway begins
at Omaha and ends at Ogden, 1016 miles farther west. It connects at
Ogden with the Central Pacific Railway, 882 miles long, which terminates
at San Francisco. As they rode along they had abundant time to learn the
history of the great enterprise that unites the Atlantic and Pacific
coasts, and enables one to travel in a single week from New York to San
Francisco. The Doctor had been over the route previously; and he had
once crossed the Plains before the railway was constructed.
Consequently, he was an excellent authority, and had an abundant store
of information to draw from.
"The old way of crossing the Plains and the new way of doing the same
thing," said Doctor Bronson, "are as different as black and white. My
first journey to California was with an ox wagon, and it took me six
months to do it. Now we shall make the same distance in four days."
"What a difference, indeed!" the boys remarked.
[Illustration: ATTACKED BY INDIANS.]
"We walked by the side of our teams or behind the wagons, we slept on
the ground at night, we did our own cooking, we washed our knives by
sticking them into the ground rapidly a few times, and we washed our
plates with sand and wisps of grass. When we stopped, we arranged our
wagons in a circle, and thus formed a 'corral,' or yard, where we drove
our oxen to yoke them up. And the corral was often very useful as a
fort, or camp, for defending ourselves against the Indians. Do you see
that little hollow down there?" he asked, pointing to a depression in
the ground a short distance to the right of the train. "Well, in that
hollow our wagon-train was kept three days and nights by the Indians.
Three days and nights they stayed around, and made several attacks. Two
of our men were killed and three were wounded by their arrows, and
others had narrow escapes. One arrow hit me on the throat, but I was
saved by the knot of my neckerchief, and the point only tore the skin a
little. Since that time I have always had a fondness for large neckties.
I don't know how many of the Indians we killed, as they carried off
their dead and wounded, to save them from being scalped. Next to getting
the scalps of their enemies, the most important thing with the Indians
is to save their own. We had several fights during our journey, but that
one was the worst. Once a little party of us were surrounded in a small
'wallow,' and had a tough time to defend ourselves successfully. Luckily
for us, the Indians had no fire-arms then, and their bows and arrows
were no match for our rifles. Nowadays they are well armed, but there
are not so many of them, and they are not inclined to trouble the
railway trains. They used to do a great deal of mischief in the old
times, and many a poor fellow has been killed by them."
Frank asked if the Doctor saw any buffaloes in his first journey, and if
he ever went on a buffalo-hunt.
"Of course," was the reply; "buffaloes were far more numerous then than
now, and sometimes the herds were so large that it took an entire day,
or even longer, for one of them to cross the road. Twice we were unable
to go on because the buffaloes were in the way, and so all of us who had
rifles went out for a hunt. I was one of the lucky ones, and we went on
in a party of four. Creeping along behind a ridge of earth, we managed
to get near two buffaloes that were slightly separated from the rest of
the herd. We spread out, and agreed that, at a given signal from the
foremost man, we were to fire together--two at one buffalo and two at
the other. We fired as we had agreed. One buffalo fell with a severe
wound, and was soon finished with a bullet through his heart; the other
turned and ran upon us, and, as I was the first man he saw, he ran at
me. Just then I remembered that I had forgotten something at the camp,
and, as I wanted it at once, I started back for it as fast as I could
go. It was a sharp race between the buffalo and me, and, as he had
twice as many legs as I could count, he made the best speed. I could
hear his heavy breathing close behind me, and his footsteps, as he
galloped along, sounded as though somebody were pounding the ground with
a large hammer. Just as I began to think he would soon have me on his
horns, I heard the report of a rifle at one side. Then the buffalo
stumbled and fell, and I ventured to look around. One of the men from
camp had fired just in time to save me from a very unpleasant
predicament, and I concluded I didn't want any more buffalo-hunting for
that day."
Hardly had the Doctor finished his story when there was a long whistle
from the locomotive, followed by several short ones. The speed of the
train was slackened, and, while the passengers were wondering what was
the matter, the conductor came into the car where our friends were
seated and told them there was a herd of buffaloes crossing the track.
"We shall run slowly through the herd," the conductor explained, "and
you will have a good chance to see the buffalo at home."
[Illustration: HERD OF BUFFALOES MOVING.]
They opened the windows and looked out. Sure enough, the plain was
covered, away to the south, with a dark expanse like a forest, but,
unlike a forest, it appeared to be in motion. Very soon it was apparent
that what seemed to be a forest was a herd of animals.
[Illustration: AN OLD SETTLER.]
As the train approached the spot where the herd was crossing the track,
the locomotive gave its loudest and shrillest shrieks. The noise had
the effect of frightening the buffaloes sufficiently to stop those which
had not crossed, and in the gap thus formed the train moved on. The boys
were greatly interested in the appearance of the beasts, and Frank
declared he had never seen anything that looked more fierce than one of
the old bulls, with his shaggy mane, his humped shoulders, and his
sharp, glittering eyes. He was quite contented with the shelter of the
railway-car, and said if the buffalo wanted him he must come inside to
get him; or give him a good rifle, so that they could meet on equal
terms.
Several of the passengers fired at the buffaloes, but Fred was certain
he did not see anything drop. In half an hour the train had passed
through the herd, and was moving on as fast as ever.
On and on they went. The Doctor pointed out many places of interest, and
told them how the road was built through the wilderness.
[Illustration: "END OF TRACK."]
"It was," said he, "the most remarkable enterprise, in some respects,
that has ever been known. The working force was divided into parties
like the divisions of an army, and each had its separate duties. Ties
were cut and hauled to the line of the road; the ground was broken and
made ready for the track; then the ties were placed in position, the
rails were brought forward and spiked in place, and so, length by
length, the road crept on. On the level, open country, four or five
miles of road were built every day, and in one instance they built more
than seven miles in a single day. There was a construction-train, where
the laborers boarded and lodged, and this train went forward every day
with the road. It was a sort of moving city, and was known as the 'End
of Track;' there was a post-office in it, and a man who lived there
could get his letters the same as though his residence had been
stationary. The Union Pacific Company built west from Omaha, while the
Central Pacific Company built east from Sacramento. They met in the
Great Salt Lake valley; and then there was a grand ceremony over the
placing of the last rail to connect the East with the West. The
continent was spanned by the railway, and our great seaboards were
neighbors."
[Illustration: SNOW-SHEDS ON THE PACIFIC RAILWAY.]
Westward and westward went our travellers. From the Missouri River, the
train crept gently up the slope of the Rocky Mountains, till it halted
to take breath at the summit of the Pass, more than eight thousand feet
above the level of the sea. Then, speeding on over the Laramie Plains,
down into the great basin of Utah, winding through the green carpet of
Echo Cañon, skirting the shores of Great Salt Lake, shooting like a
sunbeam over the wastes of the alkali desert, climbing the Sierra
Nevada, darting through the snow-sheds and tunnels, descending the
western slope to the level of the Pacific, it came to a halt at Oakland,
on the shore of San Francisco Bay. The last morning of their journey our
travellers were among the snows on the summit of the Sierras; at noon
they were breathing the warm air of the lowlands of California, and
before sundown they were looking out through the Golden Gate upon the
blue waters of the great Western ocean. Nowhere else in the world does
the railway bring all the varieties of climate more closely together.
[Illustration: VIEW AT CAPE HORN, CENTRAL PACIFIC RAILWAY.]
San Francisco, the City by the Sea, was full of interest for our young
adventurers. They walked and rode through its streets; they climbed its
steep hill-sides; they gazed at its long lines of magnificent buildings;
they went to the Cliff House, and saw the sea-lions by dozens and
hundreds, within easy rifle-shot of their breakfast-table; they steamed
over the bay, where the navies of the world might find safe anchorage;
they had a glimpse of the Flowery Kingdom, in the Chinese quarter; and
they wondered at the vegetable products of the Golden State as they
found them in the market-place. Long letters were written home, and
before they had studied California to their satisfaction it was time
for them to set sail for what Fred called "the under-side of the world."
[Illustration: SEAL-ROCKS, SAN FRANCISCO.]