We reached home in mid-winter, and found a scene of indescribable desolation, the fire having devastated so many familiar spots in the city's approach; depots in ashes and entire streets a wide waste. Finding no one to meet us, with the longed-for, loving welcome, we were tortured with fear, and went at once to Mr. Arms' place of business, where we learned that he was at home and sick. Thither we hurriedly wended our way, and, although we found the invalid unable to leave his bed, we thought it sweet to find ourselves in this our first home, which, having been reared in my absence, seemed like a magic castle bridging over the sad separation.
My husband soon convalesced and we began to lay plans for furnishing our new abode. I still suffered from a cold upon my lungs contracted from the long exposure on the plains, and it fell to the lot of Hattie to assist Mr. Arms in the selection of our household goods. She had become eyes and hands for me, and I never so fully realized how the touch of sympathy could blend two tastes in one, for every article met my entire approval. I will not dwell upon the joys of our new home; but well has the poet said—
In every Paradise since the first Eden the inevitable trail of the serpent has been over all, and too often it comes in its halcyon hours. Insidiously and surely came the stealthy trail of our serpent in the declining health of my husband, and the impending danger to the dear life of Hattie.
I took her to every physician who made her disease a specialty, going far and near to consult them, each one of whom would shake their heads in despair, yet all seeming willing to undertake her case. But to me she was too precious to be submitted to experimental treatment. Finally the fame of Dr. Kingsley reached us. He was known as the Great American Cancer Doctor, and we went at once to his cure, in Rome, New York.
The same ominous shade came with his examination, and he too failed to promise a cure. Passing through the wards of his hospitals, with their agonizing and appalling scenes, the shrieks of pain ringing like death-knells in our ears, decided us, neither of us being willing she should submit to a fate so fraught with fearful contingencies.
We were stopping with a family named Crawford, who were friends of Hattie, and whose unremitting kindness will be a life-long memory.
We returned to them in deep despair, when we heard of Mr. Golly, a neighboring farmer, who was performing almost miraculous cures, and we at once took the stage and went to him.
A few moments conversation inspired us with confidence in the man, whose frank face was an index to his character, and whose sympathetic soul breathed through every intonation of his gentle voice.
He advised her to remain for treatment, assuring her, that if she was unable to pay, it would cost her nothing.
We were willing to remunerate if certain of cure, and, knowing the dread uncertainty of the case, this noble man revealed in his offer his true magnanimity. I remained with her two months, when home demands became imperative, and I longingly left one who, through nine years of close and dear relationship had become a life link hard to sever.
With undying gratitude to good Mr. Golly, I left her confided to his fatherly care, knowing he could not prove recreant to the trust.
Upon our return to Chicago I found my husband so ill that he yielded to the advice of his physician to go to the Mineral Springs of St. Louis, and there being a heavy drain upon our finances, I felt it necessary to resume my travels. Disagreeable as was the task, it was tolerable only for its benefit to loved ones.
Ida, the young daughter of my favorite brother, had just graduated, her laurels still green and her heart full of girlish enthusiasm. With the sanction of her parents she kindly consented to accompany me. Kindred ties are deep and strong, and her society was like a ray of sunshine in my clouded pathway.
Mr. Keep, the Manager of the North-western Railway, presented us with a general pass, and we started for the Lake Superior country, first visiting many of the beautiful towns of Wisconsin, among which was Peshtigo, then but partially rebuilt from its recent ravages from fire. In canvassing we called at the house of Mrs. Armstrong, who kept a book, and asked us to call in the afternoon for the money.
During the day her little daughter had become so interested in the "story of the blind girl," that she insisted upon going out to buy her a dress, which she presented in person. Little Nellie's gift of simple calico was as precious to me as if of silken texture and Tyrion dye, and "waxed rich" with the royalty of sympathy and love.
We visited Escanaba, a beautiful summer resort upon Lake Michigan, spending a delightful week in the elegant hotel, which rests in the shaded seclusion of park and garden, and gaining renewed health and vigor.
We had a short, sweet stay at Marquette, saw the "Isle of Yellow Sands" with its luring light, the "Pictured Rocks" bearing the tracery of the Divine Artist, and all the well-known beauties of Lake Superior.
On our way to Ishpenming we were presented with tickets to the concert of "Blind Tom," the musical prodigy and whilom slave boy, through whose God-given talent the former master had amassed quite a fortune.
We heard his improvised and memorized melodies, and were struck with awe and wonder.
After the concert we went to the Commercial Hotel, where I was suddenly and violently attacked with a congestive chill, in which emergency Mrs. Newett, the landlady, proved a ministering angel, her thorough knowledge of the disease and prompt devoted attendance no doubt saving my life.
We next visited L'Anse, the terminus of the Marquette Railroad, and found a delightful hotel, bearing the euphonious name of Lake Linden House, suggestive of the beautiful grounds gracefully sloping to the edge of the lake, whose "wide waste of waters" seemed a "sapphire sea" set with emerald gems, from one of which verdant spots gleaming in the picturesque distance rose the symmetrical spire of a cathedral, whose cross stood out like a beautiful "bas relief" from the violet background; and the solemn voice of the convent bell told the hour when orisons arose like holy incense to the skies. A fitting resort for the student, and the recluse was this secluded spot, where nature opened her fairest page, and beauty planted her altars on earth, in air and sky, and where "devotion wafts the mind above."
We crossed in the steamer to Houghton, beautifully located upon a winding stream, and we were pleasantly entertained at the Butterfield House.
We remained some time, lingering among the towns in its vicinity, and returned home improved in health and finances.
Before settling down for the winter I resolved to visit a few towns in the vicinity of Chicago, and among them Sycamore, where there was an unexpected episode in my hitherto eventful career, a touching incident and "words fitly spoken," which the good book says are as "apples of gold in pictures of silver."
My husband having once been engaged in business at Sycamore, I was in constant expectation of meeting some of his old associates; hence, was not so much surprised when, upon entering a store, a gentleman stepped down from his desk, and warmly grasping both of my hands, exclaimed: "I know you." I quickly and inquiringly responded, you are perhaps a friend of my husband? Oh no, he replied, I do not know your husband, but I have great reason to remember you, for you were the cause of my salvation!
Moved and wondering, I tried in vain to recall the time when I could have been an humble agent in the hands of the Heavenly Father, even to the salvation of a human soul.
Shakspeare has said that—
And why should not the same "honest trifles" win us to good.
He then explained to me that eight years previous he was in Burlington, Wisconsin, having wandered far from the fold in which a patient, loving, Christian mother had faithfully tended her flock, teaching them the wisdom of divine truth and loving lessons of duty to God and man.
He had entered a saloon and sat down to a card-table with a congenial companion, when suddenly lifting his eyes a lady stood beside him offering him a little book, and something in the expression of that face riveted his attention and penetrated the depths of his soul, inspiring resolves new and strange. While years had passed since that time, he had never forgotten the lineaments which had changed the whole tenor of his life. Both his companion and himself bought books, threw down their cards, and from his own assurance he has never since been tempted to indulge in a game.
The next winter he made his peace with God and became a consistent and steadfast member of the Congregational Church.
The following spring he was married to one who was in every way fitted to minister to his higher impulses and lead him to a holier life, and while he has ever since been actively engaged in every good "word and work," he is especially engrossed with Sabbath School duties, in which field he has planted many a seed, from which has been reaped richest harvests and fairest fruitage.
Their cozy, little home, is a fair and faithful mirror, reflecting the unostentatious, goodness, purity and love which characterizes every act of their private lives, whose peaceful, even tenor is indicated in the tasteful apartments, pervaded with purity and touched with the delicate tracery of taste. Fair flowers grace almost every nook of this truly Eden-home, and its bright blooming garden is a fitting type of their lives, blossoming with goodness and fragrant with the incense of holiness.
It is not strange that these dear people seemed to me like loved relations; our meeting like a reunion with some pure spirits with whom my heart had held communion in other days, their voices coming to me like some sweet strain of unforgotten music.
I left them, feeling grateful that my little book had been the humble instrument of so much good, and was happy in the thought that it had been so thoroughly read and discussed in the little Sabbath School, that I had many warm friends in Sycamore.
Before I left he pleadingly besought me never to pass by a saloon in my canvassing tours, for I little knew the good my presence might bring about. I have faithfully followed his advice, ever buoyed by the hope of some equally happy result, and never having met with an indignity or repulse, this class of people ranking among my most generous patrons.
As from every event in life we gather some golden lesson of wisdom, from this I learned to—
At home for the winter, I was joined by my husband, who had entered into business, and constant tidings of Hattie's convalescence cheered me. Ida being obliged to visit home, I was left in entire charge of my house, daily bewailing the fatal effects of inexperience, when, as ever, a friend was furnished me in the hour of need. Mrs. Leavitt, my neighbor "over the way," was a lady of great personal attraction, whose beautiful head was crowned with the glory of prematurely white hair. She ministered to me in so many ways. In reading or conversation her melodious voice lent a charm to the most ordinary theme. Nor did she deem it degrading to enter the domestic realm, and there as everywhere she reigned a queen.
The flutter of a handkerchief at the window blind was my "signal of distress," and when my "Ship of State" seemed sinking amid the breakers of domestic storms, her strong arm ever saved. When, the dread emergency of dinner demanded more skill than my amateur art supplied, she came to the rescue, and as she presided in the kitchen, teaching to compound some savoury sauce or delicate dish, the process was interlarded with some sage sentiment from Bacon and other profound philosophers; while, like Joe's practical sermon over the "plum pudding" came her comments "My dear! knowledge is power," thus deeply impressing me with the potency of her presence even in the culinary department.
Hence from this dear friend I received not only the "fullness of knowledge," but the richness of affection also. She finally drifted away from me to the sunny, flowery land of Florida, whence sweet memories are wafted to me through her love-laden letters, under whose sentiment there flows the same deep under-current of thought.
In the dreary month of January, Hattie came with the snow drifts, bringing with her presence a bright sun-ray, for she was buoyant with the hope of health, and I rejoicing that her life could be lengthened, perhaps saved, hence the winter passed in mapping out plans for the future. But, with the early spring, the dread disease reappeared with such intensity that I felt her doom to be irrevocably sealed, while "hope fled and mercy sighed." Prompted by a hope of enhancing her interest, I accompanied her to Morrison, Illinois, where she was awaited by two loving sisters, who, together with their noble husbands, so tenderly cared for her that it in some degree appeased the sad reluctance of giving her into other hands.
Mr. Arms' health had now become so seriously impaired that he had determined to seek the benefit of the Hot Springs of Arkansas, and, after he left, I secured the services of Miss Josie Tyson as traveling companion, and started for the lead mining regions of Wisconsin, making Mineral Point my headquarters. This town is the shipping-place for the ore, and I was surprised to find it with several thousand inhabitants—abounding in wealth and greatly advanced in culture, while it became afterward endeared to me by the extreme kindness of its people. My little jaunts from this place by private conveyance made a pleasant variety in the monotony of travel, after which we visited Mendota and South Western Iowa, where we spent a delightful summer.
We returned to Morrison the day before Thanksgiving, and I lingered two weeks with Hattie. Surely "blessings brighten as they take their flight," and with us the sadly, blissful moments flew all too fast, both silently impressed that it might be our last communion. In my absence her delicate and refined taste had designed a gold ring which she had made as a parting gift. As she placed it upon my finger she leaned her head upon my shoulder and wept bitterly, telling me in tenderest tones her sorrow at leaving one who so much needed her, pleading with me to have patience to bear the separation. These tears from fountains deep and pure must have been as potent at the throne of grace as the one so graphically described by Sterne; even that of the Recording Angel, who, in the bright Empyrean, dropped a tear upon the word left by the Accusing Spirit "and blotted it out forever."
Physicians agreeing that she might live at least a year, I yielded to her persuasion to go South for the benefit of my own health, and—
After a short season devoted to the arrangement of home matters, I started South via the Chicago and Alton Railroad. At Dwight, Illinois, we stopped at the McPherson House, where we had a delightful suite of rooms. The proprietor had attained to the years allotted to man, yet was so wonderfully preserved that he seemed a stalwart man of fifty. He spent an evening in our parlor, feasting us with the richness of his reminiscence. He had served in both the regular army and navy, his travels leading him to lands afar, and his naval service landing him at almost every port in the world, yet he had never carried a more dangerous weapon than a penknife, always having been unharmed and unmolested. His creed consisted of six words, viz.: "Deal mercifully, walk humbly before God." These "articles of faith," simple as the "new commandment" which Christ gave to his disciples, I give unto you, and beautiful as the "Golden Rule" of Confucius, were certainly in my own case carried out both "in the letter and the spirit;" for he at first peremptorily refused any remuneration for our elegant accommodations, but, finding me inexorable, very reluctantly consented to accept half pay.
The weather grew so cold, and the times so dull, we did not halt again until we reached St. Louis, where we both had relatives and friends who helped us to while away the holiday hours. While there we visited the Institution for the Blind, our pleasure being much enhanced by the rare music we heard and the polite attention of Professor Workman, the Superintendent.
The Superintendent of the Iron Mountain Railway presented us with a pass, jocularly remarking that it was equal to an eighty dollar New Year's gift.
Mr. C.C. Anderson, of Adams' express, upon the strength of our old Baltimore acquaintance, gave me letters of introduction, which afterward proved of infinite value.
We left St. Louis with its noble depot and stupendous bridge, and reaching Iron Mountain we seemed to have emerged from dense darkness into dazzling light. Going to the clean, elegant hotel, our faces, covered with St. Louis soot, were in such grim contrast with our sunny surroundings, that we had to go through an elaborate course of ablution before we could feel ourselves presentable. Iron Mountain is a monster mass of iron, one of the largest and purest of the kind in the world. In 1836 it was bought for the insignificant sum of six hundred dollars, and now its worth is incalculable.
Being unwilling to brave mud and small towns, we made no stops until we reached Little Rock, Arkansas, where, at the untimely hour of three o'clock in the morning, we went to the Central House, the only hotel which had survived their recent fires, and which we found so crowded that even the doors were closed against us.
Our party of five went out in quest of shelter, the night pervaded by "the blackness of darkness," and the rain pouring in torrents. One of the gentlemen was a member of the Legislature, and quite an invalid. Growing faint from exhaustion, he fell into a mud hole, and was fairly immersed in its slimy depths. After a long search we finally found a poor refuge and an execrable bed, but in the morning were favored in securing comfortable private accommodations.
While at Little Rock we visited all the State institutions, and among them that for the blind. After ten days of business success, we went to all the towns on the Arkansas River, and were charmed with its scenery, for while the classical meander, it winds in graceful beauty through forests which, although too low and ragged to please the eye, clothe a country otherwise picturesque in character. A strange peculiarity of the Arkansas River is that of the emerald green color which deeply tinges its crystal clearness, a fact which I found no one able to explain satisfactorily.
Fort Smith is nominally at the head of river navigation, but is really accessible by steamer only during a very small portion of the year, when the water is at an unusually high stage. It is beautifully located, and has a main street known as "The Avenue," which is between two and three hundred feet in width. This avenue is a great business centre, and at almost all times a scene of animated interest, while at its head stand prominently a cathedral and a convent.
The swift passing panorama of the avenue is ofttimes varied by a picturesque group of Chocktaws or Cherokees, with grotesque costume, this place being their principal rendezvous. Just at the edge of the town is a National Cemetery of great natural beauty, with but little of the stiff regularity which usually characterizes such places.
We found a great lack of educational advantages throughout the entire State of Arkansas, there being no public schools, and the private ones few in number and poor in character; but it has never been my good fortune to meet kinder hearts than were encountered among the masses.
At Arkadelphia we had a regular Arkansas deluge, and the first class hotel of this flourishing town of two thousand souls would indeed have been a poor ark for Father Noah and his family. Its walls were lathed but not plastered, and from our apartment we had an extended view of the entire floor.
Our furniture consisted of two wooden chairs, a box turned upside down for a toilet-stand, a rickety bedstead, with unmusical creak, a tumble-down lounge, and dismal, but genuine tallow dip. In these quarters we spent four days, during which time the rain poured with unremitting constancy.
In the parlor of the same edifice was an elegant piano, and magnificently dressed ladies, and our constant amazement was, how, in this strange country, extremes could so amicably meet.
I found in Arkadelphia two blind gentlemen, who were prosperous merchants; and to me, this spoke volumes for a community who would so generously sustain the afflicted rather than allow them the condescension of beggary.
We next visited Hope, a town of three thousand inhabitants, yet having numbered but three years of existence; and while these people are considered so slow in progression, this fact indicated a considerable degree of Yankee go-a-head activity. This town is one of the important cotton markets of the State, which branch of trade imparts an additional business activity.
We turned toward Hot Springs, the Baden of America, and when within twenty miles of this wonderful place we encountered a throng of that class of human pests known as "hotel runners," thick as bees, and more stingingly annoying, for they especially abounded in low jests and ribald stories which grate so harshly upon sensitive ears. It would certainly be an act of philanthropy, both to the hotels and their patrons, to take some measure for the suppression of this nuisance.
The approach to Hot Springs, and the first glimpse of the stream, smoking as if its bed rested upon some subterranean fire, are in themselves awe-inspiring. The valley is narrowed to the limits of three hundred feet, and the road winds gracefully around the base of the mountain, upon whose top the cold spring furnishes a better beverage than iced champagne; while close by its side bubbles the boiling spring, in which eggs can be cooked to perfection; and with a little seasoning of salt and pepper, the most luscious soup can be improvized, while the boiling water au naturale can be drunk in copious, life-giving draughts.
The hotels are ranged upon either side of the road, and have all the necessary bathing appointments. Among the many novelties to a stranger was the process of dressing chicken, which was their staple article of food. The hot stream was the only necessary cauldron for the scalding process, while the feathers were thrown into the swift current, and rapidly carried away by the natural sewerage, a decidedly labor-saving process, and somewhat characteristic of the locality and its native cooks.
The various forms of treatment consist of hot, cold, vapor and mud baths, and have been so often described that a repetition would be monotonous; their efficacy being almost unfailing, except in cases of pulmonary disease, in which they would soon prove fatal. One who has ever enjoyed these baths will always long for the luxury years after leaving them behind.
We reluctantly left this valley, teeming with rich quarries of valuable stone and various ores, luscious fruits, and the trifling drawbacks of rattlesnakes, centipedes and tarantulas, and went to Texaskana, which is located at the junction of the three States of Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana, hence its name.
It is a great railroad centre, and it is very curious to visit the depot amid the rushing thousands who daily pass through this place on their way to Texas. It is a wildly romantic place, built upon a clearing of forty acres without any decided plan, streets running at random very much like the old cowpaths of Manhattan, and houses grouped in picturesque confusion. Finding the main hotel crowded, the proprietor manifested an unheard-of disinterestedness in a two hours search to find us suitable accommodations elsewhere, an act of magnanimity worthy of especial note and remembrance.
We reached Jefferson, Texas, when the excitement was rife over the murder of Bessie Moore, the terrible details of which sent a thrill of horror over the entire United States. It rained during the several days of our stay there; but thanks to the earnest endeavors of Mrs. Frazer, of the Frazer House, I did very well in my business. Many of the fairest portions of the town had been laid waste by the destructive ravages of incendiary fires, and had never been rebuilt.
Marshall is one of the most enterprising towns in the State, being a great railroad centre, and settled almost exclusively by Northern people.
We had a most delightful visit to Shreveport, Louisiana: It lies at the head of Red River navigation, and is the port of entry for New Orleans steamers, being a place of great wealth and equal generosity. The editors worked with great zest to aid me, and among the many people I met very few failed to buy books. The genial skies and bright sunshine made it hard to realize that it was the winter season; and I shall ever revert to its warm-hearted people not only with pleasure but with gratitude.
At Longview—in the dilapidated prison-like room of my hotel, I received tidings of the death and burial of Hattie. My surroundings were in such sad accord with my feelings, that I wondered if the sun would ever shine, or the flowers bloom again, so much light went out with her dear life.
At Longview we took a branch of the International Railroad to Palestine—Mr. Smith, the Vice-President of the road, not only largely patronizing me, but presenting me with a six months' pass and the assurance that if I ever again visited the State a letter addressed to him would ensure a repetition of the favor.
Thence we went to Galveston, where Mr. Arms had been for three months trying the efficacy of sea-bathing. This city is beautifully located upon a fertile island in Galveston Bay. The streets are lined upon either side with oleander trees, which, arching over at the top, form a very bower of bloom, while every breath of the clear bright air is balmy with the odor of orange blossoms.
The Mesquite trees, with attenuated leaves and gracefully drooping pods, adorn all the parks of the city, the beans forming a delicious dish either cooked or raw.
No wonder Texas is called "The Happy Hunting Ground," for the five delightful weeks we spent in Galveston seemed like a dream of Paradise. Its many pleasures were varied by sailing and bathing, every morning finding us upon the pure, white beach, where the waves whispered the sweetest melodies.
We went back to Houston in the month of bloom, and no "vale of Cashmere" could have been more beautiful in its "feast of roses."
The street car ran to the depot, and we found in it but one passenger, a gentleman who carried a rose in his hand. Noticing at once that I was blind, he arose and said to me, "Although you cannot see the beautiful flowers you can inhale their sweetness," at the same time asking me to accept the rose. His delicate kindness and urbane manner struck a deep chord in my heart, and I never think of Houston without recalling the gentle touch and tone.
I must not omit to mention an act of generosity upon the part of the railroad office at Galveston. Leaving there I had paid fare to Houston, and the agent refunded five dollars, adding that I should never be allowed to pay railroad fare.
After remaining two weeks at Houston I took the Sunset Route to San Antonia, and stopped at the Central House on the main plaza. This is the oldest town in Texas, and is called "The Stone City," its antique buildings and narrow winding streets giving it a quaint, time-worn air.
San Antonia River rises from a low spring, four miles distant from the city, and gracefully winds through its streets, and is here and there spanned by beautiful rustic bridges.
The "City Gardens" are one block distant from the main plaza, and are located upon an island of great natural beauty, romantically approached by a floating bridge. The air is cool and refreshing from the river breeze, fair flowers, bloom and sweet voiced birds rival the musical instruments which lead the merry feet of the dancers.
A mile from the city are the San Pedro Springs, a lovely park often acres in area, where springs flow out into crystal purling streams, forming islands, lakes, and ponds white and fragrant with their lily bloom, while shining green lizards and other reptiles peep curiously out from the rocks and glide away into the stream.
Just across the main plaza stands the old Spanish cathedral, with its musical chime of bells sending out on the perfumed air melodies sweet as vesper songs.
We went to the old Alamo, felt the antique cannon used by the Mexicans, were shown the room in which Bowie died and the spot where fell the brave Colonel Crockett, who, with his handful of men, so gallantly held the citadel, at which time he was taken alive, together with five other prisoners, and ordered by Santa Anna to be killed.
Just before the fatal sword-thrust, which ended a life so fraught with daring and danger, he sprang like a tiger at the throat of Santa Anna, his face wearing even in death this expression of fiendish, scowling hatred.
San Antonia being the great market for the frontier, is a place of great business activity. While there I was struck with amazement to see a dirty, ragged man mounted upon a jaded, dilapidated horse, a very Sancho Panza and Rezinante, smilingly asking alms of the passer-by.
I had often heard of, but never before saw a veritable "beggar on horseback."
We went from San Antonio to Austin, the capital of Texas, where I had a delightful interview with Governor Hubbard, who, although much engrossed with the cares of State, seemed for the time to lay them all aside, and gave me his undivided attention. Certainly if "all the world's a stage, and men and women merely players," this versatile gentleman appeared as well in the role of courtier as in that of the statesman.
The Government Buildings are of finished architectural art, and stand amid cultivated grounds, upon a commanding eminence. At the State House door is a monument to the memory of Colonel David Crockett and the brave companions who foil with him at St. Alamo.
The public Institutions of Austin are a credit to "The Lone Star" State, especially that for the Blind, at which I spent a day, and was charmingly entertained by Dr. Raney and his accomplished wife. The matron also dispensed hospitalities with so much true dignity and grace, and I never visited an institution in which the inmates were so pre-eminently refined, its sixty-five pupils numbering so many accomplishments.
In response to a solicitation from Dr. Raney I addressed the school. This was done through a social chat, in which the little group circled close around me, and while I never so longed for "the poetry of speech" to render the deep emotion of my heart, I really believe no elocutionist, with all "the charm of delivery," could have had a more attentive audience.
Waco is known as the Athens of Texas, and among its many Institutions of Learning is the Baptist University, open to both sexes. It is under the charge of Doctor Burlison, who extended to me an invitation to meet the school at their chapel exercises.
The "sweet hour of prayer" being over, he disposed of many of my books and baskets among the pupils. This gentleman was deeply engrossed with the educational interests of the State, and had traveled over its length and breadth to enhance its prosperity, being more especially engaged in the public school system. The next day twenty-five of the young lady pupils, chaperoned by their teachers, called upon me at the McLennan House. They were all characterized by discreet and lady-like deportment, and as there was a fine toned piano in the parlor, there was no lack of artistic music. We had also an equally kind reception from the Reverend Mr. Wright and lady of the Methodist College.
Waco is on the Brazos River, which is spanned by a graceful suspension bridge, the pride of the town. During my visit they held their celebrated fete known as "The Maifest," which lasted two days, and the gay and fantastic procession in which all professions and trades were represented made it almost as gorgeous as a carnival.
From Waco we went to Dallas, which is located upon Trinity River, and is the Metropolis of Northern Texas. There was little to note in my stay there, except the amusingly antagonistic reasons assigned by two men for not giving me their patronage. Their business houses were upon the same side of one street, and not very remote from each other. One refused because my book was not sufficiently religious in its tone, and the other because he saw the name of the Lord upon one of its pages. It was plainly evident in both cases that the name of the "Almighty Dollar" as its price was the most probable impediment.
It was now the last of May, and the intense heat induced me to go northward; indeed those who hope to enjoy a visit in that part of Texas must go at some time between the months of September and May, for during the remainder of the year the inhabitants do nothing but "try to keep cool."
We stopped over one train at the beautiful town of Sherman, and then hurried on to St. Louis, where I found my old friend Mrs. Anderson, who, having visited Baltimore the previous summer, had learned all the particulars of the death of the beloved Superintendant of our Institution during my life there.
Mr. Charles H. Keener was the son of Christian Keener, the founder of Greenmount Cemetery of Baltimore, a sweet resting place which could fitly receive the appellation given their cemeteries by the Turks—"A City of the Living." He was the brother of Bishop J.C. Keener, of the Methodist Episcopal Church South, who is quite celebrated as a Divine. His life was characterized by a succession of shining acts of self-sacrifice and affection, and his nature, so quiet and unobtrusive, shrunk so sensitively from ostentation, that greatness must have been "thrust upon him" ere he held a name emblazoned upon the roll of fame. His character in contrast with publicly great men has been most graphically told by the German poet, who sang—
As the Superintendent of our Institution, he held the hearts of every inmate. His younger brother, in a letter of response to some queries, said—"He was an Engineer in the United States Navy during the War of the Rebellion, a devoted son, a true patriot, and an earnest Christian man." He was afterward stationed on the "Island of Navassa," one of the West India Group, within one hundred miles of Cuba, and was acting as Superintendent of a Phosphate Company which owned, and worked the Island. He had been there during eighteen months, when, in September, 1872, the yellow fever broke out in the Island. After several weeks' resistance he, too, succumbed to this terrible scourge, and, after a six days' illness, died on the 9th of November, 1872.
His brother also feelingly makes mention of his last letter, written upon the day of his attack, as "a marvel of calm resignation." It runs thus: "I am fast getting ready to be counted among the sick. When you know I am really dead write to—(here follow the names of many friends) and tell them to meet me in Heaven. One by one we are passing over, why should we hesitate? why should I with no one to care for? Surely I have seen trouble enough in this life! May I feel as little dread of dying at the last moment as I do now."
His last words were addressed to his second officer, who had been addicted to dissipation, but who had pledged himself to reform. As he was carried out to look upon the sea which he loved so well, he said: "Mawson, remember your pledge," when his head immediately dropped and he entered into the life eternal.
So did the life of this good man pass gently away while he was still in the prime of manhood. He was carried to beautiful Greenmount for burial, near the city in which his name will be coupled with loving memories for long years to come.
A short time after our return home, Miss Tyson, having become weary of traveling, I accompanied her to Morrison, and after spending a few days there left her with friends and went alone to Pecatonica, when Ida again accompanied me in my travels. On my return I stopped at Winnebago, Illinois, to visit the hallowed spot in which Hattie lay buried. As I approached the cemetery mingled memories of her beautiful life came surging through my soul, and a deep silent awe stole over me. I sent my friends away to another part of the grounds that I might be entirely alone with my dead, and as I knelt in the stillness of that sacred hour I felt that the grave held only the precious clay, and that the sweet spirit-presence was there trying to comfort me as it had always done in earth-life, while, as the soft sound of the June wind stole through the trembling evergreen near by, it seemed to whisper a sweet song, whose burden sighed—
As I turned away I felt the strong ray of sunshine which fell upon her grave, and rested there a halo and a promise!
Our first stop going Westward was at Kansas City, and as it was the first of August we found the colored people out in a well-filled procession, celebrating this, one of their great Emancipation days. Ida having seen very few colored people during her life was furnished an amusing entertainment. We also visited Lawrence, which is so marked in Kansas annals, and Topeka, the capital, but as my experience in this State differs so materially from that in any other (not making sufficient through my sales to cover expenses), I will hurriedly pass it by.
We took the sleeping car at Topeka, but, as a "washout" had destroyed the track for some distance, I left the train with the other passengers, and walked with precision over culverts and places of danger with ofttimes only a narrow plank for my track. A gentleman who kindly led me smilingly said this was indeed "walking by faith," and it was true blind eyes never have aught but faith "as a lamp to their feet and a guide to their path."
After leaving Salina there was nothing to be seen but a blank, desolate plain, as monotonous as a silent, sailless sea, grimly varied by an occasional station, with a few "dugouts" for houses. The mail on this train was most unceremoniously delivered by being thrown from the cars, and it was very amusing to witness the confusion and rush for its contents, for the love-laden and business-burdened missives are as dear to these people as to the most cultured members of society.
The frequent recurrence of the little sand-hill communities, known as prairie dog cities, was of novel interest to us, and the habits of these creatures a curious study. They build their sand-hill habitations as skillfully as the beaver erects his dam, and are so untiring in following their instinct of self-preservation that they stand as constant sentinels at the entrance of their homes, and in any case of danger play to such perfection the role of "the artful dodger" that they are never caught.
It is a singular fact that these animals are very rarely killed, and if by chance some "unlucky dog" should lose his life he is hurried out of sight by his devoted companions with so much celerity that his body is never found.
Fifty miles before reaching Denver the snow crowned tops of Gray's and James' Peaks are clearly revealed, while from one point alone will Pike's Peak allow the traveler a glimpse of his glorious grandeur. We were told that the former mountains were more frequently visible at a distance of one hundred miles. We neared Denver just as the sun was sinking, enthroned in purple and amber and gold, with a faint, delicate rosy flush tinging the edge of the more royal hues. Its truly Italian beauty was so vividly pictured to me by Ida, that I could almost realize the regal splendor of a Colorado sunset. Completely tired out and covered with alkaline dust, we were grateful for the rest and comfort afforded by the elegant Wentworth House.
We spent a week in Denver, fraught with interest, for while it is a city destitute of the charm of historical associations and musty memories, which add so much interest to most foreign cities and many American localities, it so abounds in youthful life with its warm and bounding currents, its vim and vigor, that it teems with varying attractions. Its broad avenues, softened by shade, its stately residences and mammoth business blocks, render it as imposing as many old cities, and indicate but little of its real primitive struggles for life, and the dangerous aggressions of the "Red Man;" its truly western pluck having ranked these among the things that were.
The elliptical basin in which Denver is built, sloping north and east, gives it a picturesque and extended view; the mountains losing themselves in one direction in the now historic "Black Hills," and in the other merging into the "Spanish Peaks" and "Sangre de Christo Range," so named from a natural symbol of the Christian faith, a snowy cross grandly gleaming in the distance.
Taking the Colorado Central Railway we went through the Clear Creek Cañon, with its rich and fertile fields to Golden, so beautifully sheltered in the valley at the base of the mountain, and whose air was more life-giving to me than that of any other portion of Colorado. In the vicinity of this little Eden we climbed a rock seven hundred feet high, and while two laborious hours were occupied in the ascent, we were amply recompensed when we stood upon the smooth rock which crowned its summit, where the merry picnicers pause amid their pastimes, absorbed in the sublimity of their surroundings, for while they are basking in the soft sunlight the sound of the distant thundering and lightning in the mountain tops recalls the story of Sinai, where the multitude below stood silent and breathless, and from the roar of Heaven's artillery above issued the written tables of stone.
From this our lofty site the clear ether of the intervening fourteen miles revealed the city of Denver looming up like a lonely vision.
Turning toward the "Gold Centres," whose wealth, if the half were told, would seem as fabulous as an "Arabian Nights Story," we visited "Central City" and "Black Hawk,", which are so close together that it has been facetiously said "It is impossible for a citizen to tell where he lives without going out doors and looking at some landmark."
These two places are really built upon foundations of gold, and many of the houses constructed of gold-bearing quartz.
The depot at Black Hawk might justly be denominated "Porter's Folly," for this magnificent structure was built by a reckless miner for a quartz-mill, at an expenditure of one hundred thousand dollars, and the miner was General Fitz John Porter.
At Central City we stopped at the Teller House, and received marked kindness from Mr. Bush, the proprietor. Mr. Rhodes, editor of the daily paper, aided me greatly in his well-written notices, and invited us to dine at his house, where we were delightfully entertained by himself and his accomplished wife.
We crossed the country by stage to Idaho Springs, over a region not only grand and diversified in scenery, but rich in mineral wealth, the road winding through intricate mountain heights and wild cañons. The springs are the chief resort of this portion of Colorado, and, aside from their wildly beautiful surroundings, furnish great facilities for the exhilarating hot soda baths and swimming bath-houses, in which elegantly costumed bathers of both sexes hold high carnival.
The hotel was quite romantically situated near a meandering creek, which murmured by its side and made my pleasant room upon the ground floor musical with its rippling flow. Days of dreamy beauty, and nights of cool, invigorating rest, render this a watering place of remarkable attraction.
Georgetown stands next in size to Denver, and is an outgrowth of the rich mining wealth with which it is environed. Indeed, it seemed as if some geni had touched all around it with a magic wand. Silver-ore was strewn in rich profusion, piled like cord-wood in huge masses at every step; was talked of in the street, the hotel, and the home, until it seemed as if we thought, ate, and breathed silver.
At the beautiful town of Boulder we stopped at the prominent and luxurious hotel known as the American House, and after a short stay took the stage for Caribon, then the most elevated town in the State, standing considerably over nine thousand feet above the sea-level. A romantic and ever-ascending ride of a day's length was required to reach this eyrie, and at noon-day the driver allowed us to stop for our dinner, when our wayside inn was improvized from the sheltering shade of grand old trees, our table a rock, our chairs the same.
No ambrosia could have been sweeter to the gods than was our sylvan feast, with the appetite induced by mountain air and exercise; no nectar finer than the crystal draught, dipped from the little stream; no orchestra more musical than its varied tones. Although it was yet September, there was a severe snow-storm, and, the next day, when it had subsided, a party went out to pick raspberries, which were sweet and delicious in flavor, while beside the deep snow-banks bloomed flowers as beautiful as the rarest exotics.
Ladies are so vigorous in that country that they think nothing of a walk of many miles, but the intensely rarefied air of the mountains made my own respiration very difficult.
We returned to Denver, where our few days' visit was all too short, for it was with painful reluctance we yielded to the demands of business interest, and left a city which to us was fraught with so much pleasure, and went to Colorado Springs, a place of five thousand inhabitants, and one of the most stirring towns in the State. It is very level, being symmetrically laid out in broad and shaded streets, and derives its name from the fact of being the station from which tourists take the stage for the springs at Manitou, six miles distant. It is also the point from which pleasure parties daily leave for Pike's Peak.
One of the main features of interest in our visit to Colorado Springs, was the presence of the great "Man of the Period," over whom the stupendous heart of Barnum throbbed with exultant pride, and scientists waxed wondering and eloquent. This august personage, who was no other than the since sensational "Stone Man of Colorado," was lying in state, in all the majesty of his marbleized grandeur, and was the magnet toward which throngs of wonder-seekers were irresistibly drawn, all of whom, as if entering the presence chamber of the King of Terrors, seemed awed by this silent "representative of the dead past," and with hushed voices and bated breath, lingered over the lineaments of one, which, if it had been known at that time was not a real petrifaction, would perhaps have excited only feelings of ridicule and words of derision. We were willing to be humbugged with the rest for the sacred emotions experienced under the silent potency of this phenomenon of the nineteenth century; nor can we even in the light of subsequent revelations deny the fact that he was "fearfully and wonderfully made."
We next visited Pueblo, where this giant was exhumed, but were not at all pleased with the town or its surroundings, and suffered greatly from thirst rather than drink the offensive water for which the residents are so heavily taxed. It was so apparently poisonous in odor, that if it had been in the malarious climate of Chicago, instead of the exhilarating atmosphere of Colorado, all would have died from its effects.
We have never visited a State which held such diversified interest as that of Colorado, a fitting resort for the invalid, the pleasure seeker, artist, scientist or poet. No place but some haunt of the Muses could boast the ethereal beauty of a "Glen Eyrie," and no wonder the "Garden of the Gods" is supposed to have once been the abode of "Great Jove himself," and that there fair Venus bathed her beauteous form, and girdled with the fabled "Cestus," held her court amid the immortal beauties of the sacred spot.
We came through Kansas via the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad, meeting with no better success than that which marked our former trip in that region of country, and could only conclude, that while their crops were at that time large and lucrative, the grasshopper raid had taught them a lesson of economy which they were rigidly observing.
Before returning home we visited the only surviving sister of my mother, who lived in Salsbury, Missouri, and who not having heard from me since the Chicago fire, concluded that I might have perished in its flames. She and her husband were both over seventy years old, and strange to say, were like so many of the old people I have met in my travels, that my readers might suppose my heroes and heroines had found the "fabled fountain" and secured immortal youth. Be this as it may, it could certainly be said of her husband, as of the father of Evangeline: