DES MOINES TO OMAHA.
One Hundred and Fifty-seventh Day.
Byers House,
Adel, Iowa,
October 15, 1876.
Left Des Moines with pleasant thoughts of the cordial reception I had met with, and pursuing my way westward over the prairies, reached this village in the evening after a twenty-five miles' ride over a section of the country strikingly beautiful. The soil of the prairie, I am everywhere informed, is almost invariably of the most productive character. No other State, in short, has finer facilities for growing all the cereals of the temperate zone than Iowa.
Adel is the county-seat of Dallas County, situated on the Raccoon River—generally called the "Coon." At the period of my visit the village had a population of less than one thousand, and although agriculture is the leading industry, considerable attention is given to manufacturing. The prairie land in the vicinity was, as yet, sparsely settled, but every inducement was offered settlers to establish themselves here. I noticed some broken fields, and blue smoke curling up from farm houses in the distance; and after eighteen miles of enjoyable exercise in the pure prairie atmosphere, reached this small village, where I concluded to halt for the night.
One Hundred and Fifty-eight Day.
Private House,
Dale City, Iowa,
October Sixteenth.
Weather warmer, pleasant and more invigorating than during the past few days. Left Adel at eight o'clock A. M., and passed through Redfield at eleven, still on the great prairie which appears to have no limit. From the hill-tops the valleys wear the aspect of cultivated meadows and rich pastures; and on the level spreads the wild prairie, decked with flowers, its long waves stretching away till sky and prairie mingle in the distance. Twenty years ago the red men chased the elk and buffalo where now are prairie farms and prairie homes. As I advance, I meet occasionally with trees skirting the streams that find their way to the rivers that intersect this beautiful State.
A NIGHT AMONG COYOTES.
Had dinner at a prairie farm house and talked politics with the farmer, whom I found was an enthusiastic admirer of Peter Cooper. He did not expect his political favorite would be elected, but as a matter of principle would vote for him. I told him if he called himself a Republican, he should cast his vote for Governor Hayes, but my advice probably had little effect upon him. Reached Dale City about one o'clock. It was a small village in Lyon County, with about two hundred inhabitants.
One Hundred and Fifty-ninth Day.
A Night with Coyotes,
Between Dale City and Anita, Iowa,
October Seventeenth.
My journey to-day led me again over the seemingly endless prairie—extending beyond the range of human vision. Halted at a farm house for dinner, near Dalmanutha, an agricultural settlement in Guthrie County. Wishing to reach Anita before stopping for the night, I continued on the road after dark, contrary to my usual practice.
For some time before sunset I had not seen a farm house or even a tree as far as the eye could reach, and now could see nothing of road or trail. Accordingly I gave Paul the rein and left him to pick his way. He followed a sort of blind road which led to a haystack. I thought I could do no better than make my bed on the sweet hay, and decided to spend the night there supperless. I had scarcely settled myself when a troop of coyotes, or prairie wolves, came howling and barking in front of me. This made things uncomfortable, and I at once jumped to my feet and, revolver in hand, faced the enemy. Several were killed by my fire. The remainder, however, continued to threaten an attack. I was puzzled as to what was best to do when I was suddenly re-inforced by a friendly dog, who, attracted doubtless, by the report of the pistol and the barking of the coyotes, came to my rescue, and kept the animals at bay for the remainder of the night. At daybreak I was not sorry to bid adieu to the haystack and, neither, I believe, was Paul, who had also spent a restless night, notwithstanding the abundance of good fodder at his disposal.
It may be mentioned that the coyote seems to partake of the nature of the dog and the wolf. In the winter, when food is scarce, these animals will attack man, but, unlike the wolf, if a bold resistance is offered, they will speedily decamp. A pack of coyotes, however, are not pleasant company on a dark night.
One Hundred and Sixtieth Day.
Pacific Hotel,
Atlantic, Iowa,
October Eighteenth.
Was again all day on the prairie inhaling the pure, invigorating air as Paul and I faced a stiff breeze from the Northwest; and at four o'clock arrived at Atlantic, a thriving village of over three thousand inhabitants, dependent, like all the villages I had passed, upon the surrounding farms. These farms are mostly in a flourishing condition, are fenced and under good cultivation, divided into meadows and fields of every variety of grain. The village is delightfully situated. As an evidence of its prosperity it supported two ably conducted daily papers and three weeklies, three banks and several graded schools. I was now eighty-two miles from Des Moines. The prairie here is gently undulating and the soil composed of vegetable mould and sand. Atlantic, I infer from its busy appearance, has a destiny above that which it has attained.
One Hundred and Sixty-first Day.
Columbia House,
Avoca, Iowa,
October Nineteenth.
Weather cloudy, threatening rain as I rode out of Atlantic in the morning at ten o'clock. Covered twenty miles and stopped for dinner at another farm, near Walnut. On my road saw a man at work in a large cornfield and, hailing him, inquired the distance to Avoca. After a few words had passed between us, I was surprised and pleased to discover that he was from my native county—St. Lawrence, New York, and knew many of my old friends and acquaintances in that quarter. Our conversation turned upon old localities and associations, much to our mutual enjoyment. The days of our youth were recalled, and although we had never met before, we parted after half an hour's chat as if we had been friends of many years' standing. My friend expressed perfect satisfaction with his rustic life on the prairie and was quite enthusiastic over the prospects of his farming operations. The soil he said was excellent, easy to cultivate and, in fact, second to none in the State.
Avoca is a purely agricultural village with a population of about 1,500, all, more or less, interested in the big farms within a radius of one to two miles of the busy town. Two weekly newspapers kept the citizens en rapport with the outside world and the hustling life of the large cities.
One Hundred and Sixty-second Day.
Neola House,
Neola, Iowa,
October Twentieth.
A drizzling rain on leaving Avoca made the prospect of my ride to this point somewhat gloomy. Over the interminable prairie again my journey lay, as it had done ever since I entered the State of Iowa, but a more magnificent sight I never saw than presented itself before me this afternoon on reaching the summit of an extensive table-land between Avoca and Minden.
Halted a few minutes for lunch at Minden, and met a gentleman there who had attended my lecture at Detroit, upon which he was pleased to compliment me. Neola is a small prairie settlement of about three hundred inhabitants and is surrounded by several good farms. Of the Neola House I can only say that I shall not easily forget it and its proprietor—especially the nocturnal serenade of all the cats of Neola—which deprived me of sleep throughout the night; and the extremely scant accommodations provided for the guests.
The soil here is inferior in quality to that of no other section of the State. The land is well watered and was gradually filling up with an industrious class of citizens.
OMAHA, NEBRASKA, IN 1876.
One Hundred and Sixty-third Day.
Atlantic Hotel,
Omaha, Nebraska,
October Twenty-first.
Left Neola at eight o'clock and reached Council Bluffs at three P.M. Found the road on approaching the city, in bad condition, but the splendid country through which I had passed since entering the State was perhaps equal to anything ever trodden by the feet of man. The surface of Western Iowa is very different from that of the prairie region in the eastern part of the State, being rougher and more hilly. The numerous streams proceeding from springs bursting from the hillsides, are clear and swift. Near the Missouri River, high and precipitous mountain bluffs are ranged, and the region contiguous is very hilly. The highest hills are covered with verdure—grass and timber. The soil generally is light and to appearance poor, but is loose and sandy, and found to be easily cultivated. Creeks and smaller streams of water occur frequently and afford power for mills and machinery, and furnish abundant supply for farming uses and stock.
The first white settlement in Western Iowa was made in the year 1847, by a company of Mormons or Latter-Day Saints, who had been exiled from Illinois in poverty and destitution. They passed through a part of the country then only inhabited by savages. They planted small colonies at places on the route, the main body pushing on to the bluffs near the Missouri River. A considerable number, unable to go farther, remained here, commenced clearing the land for farming, and two years later, in 1849, began the building of a town on the site now occupied by the city of Council Bluffs. Their new town they named Kanesville after one of their leaders. Several stores were built and opened, and the population was soon largely increased by people who were not Mormons and had no sympathy with them. The new settlers being greatly in the majority, virtually drove out the "Saints," who finally left in a body to join their people at Salt Lake City.
Council Bluffs is now the most populous and flourishing city of Western Iowa. At the time of my visit, the inhabitants numbered only about 8,000, but it was then growing rapidly and bid fair to become one of the big cities of America. There is a large trade here employing an immense capital. The most important manufactures are the iron works and machine shops, the agricultural works, carriage factories, steam plows, and mills of various kinds, the city has ample railroad communication by means of several lines converging here. Omaha, on the opposite bank of the Missouri, is only four miles distant. The fine, substantial bridge connecting the two cities is 2,750 feet in length and has eleven spans. It has a railroad track, and accommodation for horse-cars and ordinary travel.
The most important public buildings are the County Court House, City Hall, High School building and the ward school houses. There were three banks and two daily and three weekly newspapers. The Catholics have a seminary for young ladies and a boys' parochial school. The State Institute for the Deaf and Dumb is near the city.
HIGH SCHOOL, OMAHA, NEBRASKA.