DETROIT TO CHICAGO.
Eighty-fifth Day.
Inkster House,
Inkster, Michigan,
August 4, 1876.
Having before me a lecture appointment at Ypsilanti, which, considering the object I had in view through Michigan, I felt must be met, I rode out of Detroit at three o'clock in the afternoon, somewhat reluctantly perhaps, but within a very short time the love of travel was again upon me, and I found myself easily reconciled. Paul being in the most delightful spirits, after four days of unbroken rest, displayed quite a little animation as I mounted him in front of the residence of friends on Cass Avenue, and when we had reached the open country, I gave him the rein and allowed him to trot or gallop, as he felt inclined. The edge of his impatience having worn off, he resumed his habitual easy canter which made the saddle so enjoyable, and at this pace we covered fourteen miles, reaching our destination a few minutes after six o'clock. There was an agreeable if not decided contrast between the last stopping-place and the present one. A hundred towers announced the approach to a great city, as we neared Detroit; but here a solitary spire rose against the sky, and while the Detroit River teems, throughout its entire length with water-craft of all sorts, the almost unknown little river that winds along between Detroit and Inkster, is at this point as quiet as one of the untravelled streams of the North. The Michigan Central Railway follows its shore for many miles, and as I kept to the highway in the same direction, I could see it shining occasionally through an opening in the trees. The waters of this river are no doubt full of fish, as are all the streams of Michigan, and they have besides a fine characteristic—a sparkling clearness.
Eighty-sixth Day.
Hawkins House,
Ypsilanti, Michigan,
August Fifth.
A forbidding sky hung over Inkster as I took my seat in the saddle at ten o'clock, but "Forward" was the watchword, and there was moreover a charm in variety, for sunny skies had become rather monotonous and, under the circumstances, uncomfortable. The dust was well laid when we had gone only a short distance, but it rose again in a new form as Paul quickened his pace, so that we did not present a very dashing appearance to the Ypsilantians, after sixteen miles of such travel.
A SUMMER AFTERNOON.
Several times I was obliged to turn from the road, once taking shelter under a tree and again in a woodshed. There were in town, however, those who could excuse the appearance of a bespattered traveller—brave men who had gone from Ypsilanti in the early days of the Rebellion, and who had learned from long campaigning to look upon their comrades without criticism. The brave Fourteenth Infantry started out from here under Colonel Robert Sinclair, and joining Sherman in Georgia took a lively part in all the movements of his army, until the fall of Atlanta; numbering among their proudest achievements the repulse of the enemy at Bentonville, North Carolina, where the hurriedly constructed works of the Federals were charged and taken and then regained at the point of the bayonet; and their part in the battle of Jonesboro, Georgia, in 1864, which was the last of Sherman's brilliant operations around Atlanta. Many of these brave fellows perished on the field of battle, but enough remain to keep fresh the memory of those stirring days and to add the influence of their patriotism to the young Ypsilanti.
Eighty-seventh Day.
Hawkins House,
Ypsilanti, Michigan,
August Sixth.
On the previous evening I met a large number of men of the town, who gave me a hearty welcome, and as many of them were old soldiers, they expressed their satisfaction with the purpose of my lecture, favoring me with considerable enthusiasm in Union Hall.
The patriots of Michigan have many proud deeds to tell of, and are distinguished for their gallant service. Their military leaders were invariably zealous, and their civil leaders unceasing in their encouragement. "We cannot consent to have one star obliterated from our flag" was the sentiment, and with the saving of the Union at heart, the men went into battle.
During Wheeler's repulse at Strawberry Plains in August, 1864, eight Michigan men were left to guard McMillan's Ford on the Halston. One of these, knowing the danger of his position, deserted, leaving his seven companions to "hold the fort." This handful kept back a brigade under the Confederate general almost four hours, but the Rebels crossed above and below the ford and captured the guard. One of their number, a farrier, was wounded, and Wheeler coming up to him began a conversation. Finally Wheeler said, "Are all the Tenth Michigan like you fellows?" "Oh, no," said the other, "we are mostly horse farriers and blacksmiths and not much accustomed to fighting." "Well," said Wheeler, "if I had three hundred such men as you, I could march straight through h—l!"
Eighty-eighth Day.
McKune House,
Chelsea, Michigan,
August Seventh.
Left Ypsilanti bright and early in order to save time, for although nearly the middle of August, I still felt the intense heat, and the dry dusty roads often made my daily journeys far from agreeable. For several days the mercury ranged between 85° and 90°, and as the route was at this time due west, the sun nearly stared me out of countenance in the afternoon. Ann Arbor was reached about ten o'clock, but I did not take more than a passing glance at the University, noticing, however, that women as well as men were among the students—a recent and wise change in the law of the institution. The people were raising a flag over one of the buildings as I rode through, and on it in conspicuous letters were the names of Tilden and Hendricks.
Delhi, with no signs of a Lalla Rookh, and Scio, modest under the dignity of its suggestive Latin name, were quaint landmarks along my way, but I rode on a mile beyond to have dinner at Dexter. The Huron River has its source near here, in one of a cluster of lakelets, bordering on Livingstone and Washtenaw counties. All Michigan is covered with these small bodies of water, which, with the streams, lie upon its green surface like pearls in a network of silver.
Leaving Dexter, I had company all the way to Chelsea. Large flocks of sparrows flew along, lighting upon the telegraph wires, and as I approached they would fly away and settle again farther along, keeping up a kind of race, which was evidently fun for them, and which greatly amused me. It seemed as though they were tireless, and when I and my horse reached our destination fatigued, after twenty-six miles of travel in the sun, these strong-winged fellows were ready for another flight. I do not doubt that they easily accomplished the return journey, for we cannot compute the distance they can cover in a day. They are hardy little fellows and, despite the objections urged against them, have many admirable qualities, not the least among which is their tenacity of purpose.
Eighty-ninth Day.
Hurd House,
Jackson, Michigan,
August Eighth.
A few minutes after seven in the morning found me in the saddle at Chelsea. I stopped on my way at the Herald office and then struck off towards the main road, along which I cantered to Grass Lake, where I had dinner and remained until three o'clock. This rest was thoroughly enjoyed, the more so perhaps, as I learned before leaving Chelsea that if my advance agents had not made arrangements for me elsewhere, the people would have asked me to lecture here. In that event I should not have been so familiar with the quiet charms of Grass Lake.
Probably there are those who, if they had been in my place, would have denied themselves these halts along the way, but they would have been deprived of a double gratification. In the first place they would miss much of the character of the country through which they passed, the real difference in the manners and customs of the people; and they would miss the opportunity of assuring the credulous that they were not making a test ride across the continent within a certain time and for a certain reward.
News often travels incredibly fast when there are no evident means of communication, and I was often amused by the curiosity which my advent excited and the reasons which were whispered about in the villages through which I passed, as to the object of my journey. Indeed many Michiganders, from quiet haunts in their native wilds, made short pilgrimages "to town" in order to look at one whom they fancied might hold a proud place for having crossed the continent in so many days, hours and seconds. My horse even was looked upon with awe, as "the charger upon which General Washington rode during the war of the Revolution!" But this anachronism belongs to New York.
Leaving Grass Lake late in the afternoon, it was necessary to make better time in order to cover the remainder of the twenty three miles lying between Chelsea and Jackson. The pace quickened. I came into the latter city at six o'clock, and rode directly to the hotel.
Ninetieth Day.
Hurd House,
Jackson, Michigan,
August Ninth.
I clipped the following notice from the Citizen of this date, as a memento of my stay at Jackson. It chronicled the fact that:
"Captain Willard Glazier lectured last evening in the interest of the Custer Monument Fund. His lecture was a good historical review delivered with graceful rhetoric and at times real eloquence. The Captain is still in the city giving his horse a rest; a noble Kentucky Black Hawk, whom he has ridden all the way from Boston, and whom he expects to carry him to San Francisco. He starts to-morrow morning for Battle Creek, where he lectures on Saturday evening."
My advance agent, Babcock, went on to Battle Creek in the morning, where arrangements were made with local committees for my lecture on the twelfth. After he had gone I made a leisurely inspection of the city. It was impossible to do more on account of the extreme heat.
This may no doubt be considered the centre of the closely populated southern end of Michigan, a region dear, in times past, to the heart of the Indian, but which knows him no more. A Chippewa chief standing upon this soil, once said: "These lakes, these woods, these mountains were left to us by our ancestors; they are our inheritance, and we will part with them to no one." He knew not the strength of the pale faces who listened; for within a few years they were ready to claim, on the same grounds, those hills, and lakes, and mountains for their own.
Compared to the peninsula, whose mineral-laden shores are washed by Superior, Michigan and Huron, there is the greatest contrast; and La Hontan, making a little exploratory trip up there before anyone else, called it "the fag end of the world." These words might still be applied to some of the wildest northern points, but here is the very heart of civilization.
Jackson lies in the coal fields that reach down through several of the southern counties. This deposit is not rich, owing to the amount of sulphur in it, and the demand is chiefly local. The Grand River divides the town and, with the bridge that spans it, adds much to the picturesque effect.
Ninety-first Day.
Cooley House,
Parma, Michigan,
August Tenth.
Spent the forenoon in my room at the Hurd House, Jackson, writing letters to my wife, Major Hastings and others. In the afternoon there was a street parade of Howe's London Circus which was a very fantastic affair, but which seemed to be hugely enjoyed by everybody. Later in the day the great tent was upset by a gust of wind, accompanied by a thunder-shower, and a droll scene followed, which caused considerable excitement. The people were left exposed with the rain coming down upon them in torrents. So far I have seen nothing more amusing than the country boys and girls rushing up town drenched, and for once at least indifferent to the charms of the "big show."
The storm having passed, I ordered Paul after supper, rode down to the office of the Patriot and Citizen, and after a few minutes' conversation with the editor, hurried on toward Parma, which was reached late in the evening. The ride in the dark was cool, but somewhat lonely.
It was probably on such nights as this that young Dean, the enterprising settler of years ago, played his nocturnal tricks upon his neighbors. He came out to Michigan when it was a wilderness, to make his fortune by clearing land at ten dollars an acre, and while he was drudging he expected to have a little fun. It was his habit to work away all day chopping trees within an inch of the falling point, and then about ten o'clock, when the settlers were well asleep, to go out and give a blow to the end tree, so that it would fall against the others and send them crashing like a row of ninepins. How the old forests must have rung with their thundering and how that plotter Dean must have relished his mischief!
As I approached Parma, in the darkness I could see nothing about the village to suggest that other Parma, far away under an Italian sky, but there is a resemblance, for the European duchy and its modest American namesake both lie in a rich agricultural region; and if I mistake not the dull white freestone that is quarried here in such large quantities, finds a prototype over the sea.
THE COUNTRY PEDDLER.
Ninety-second Day.
Witt House,
Marshall, Michigan,
August Eleventh.
As there was a heavy rainfall in the morning, I waited in Parma until nearly ten o'clock, and even then was obliged to start in a thunder-shower in order to keep my appointment for the following evening at Battle Creek. This required no sacrifice, for, excepting the discomfort of wet clothes, the change was agreeable. I reached Albion in time for dinner, and immediately made myself comfortable at the hotel. Rest and refreshment having the desired effect, I afterward took a short stroll through the town, which I found very wide awake, although the Methodist college, the life of the place, was still closed for the summer vacation. In the meantime the men of the village had met, and before I remounted, came to me and persuaded me to return by rail and deliver the Ouster lecture on the fifteenth. Glad to do all I could for the "Benefit Fund," I readily consented and started away with the good wishes of the impromptu committee. Marshall, being only twelve miles beyond, was reached early in the evening, so that before dark I had time to get a mental picture of the place. Calhoun County has its capitol here, and in 1853 it was looked upon as one of the most flourishing towns in Michigan. It has not reached the predicted pinnacle of importance, but it has a pleasant situation, some flourishing flour mills, and is altogether a credit to the "Wolverines."
Ninety-third Day.
Potter House,
Battle Creek, Michigan,
August Twelfth.
As soon as Paul was led out in front of the Witt House at Marshall, a large crowd gathered about us; and when I had taken my seat in the saddle, one of the number stepped forward in behalf of the townspeople to invite me to return at a time which had previously been agreed upon and lecture on the heroes of the Revolution. Giving them the best promise I could, I hurried away as I had a good six hours' ride before me.
Since the day before there had been a decided change in the weather. The sun blazed down with almost tropical heat, drying up the roads and making my way a veritable fiery furnace. I had a rare opportunity for watching "Old Sol" on these solitary rides, as he appeared unfailingly in the morning, swung through the heavens, and vanished in the west at night. It was now harvest time, and since that early day in May on which I started westward, I had kept my eye on him like a true worshipper, half understanding the pagan with his devotion to Apollo, and half in sympathy with the Indian who greets the Sun-god and weaves the splendid symbol into pouch and canoe and mocassin. Between the hours of ten and four particularly the heat was intense, but in other respects the day was uneventful.
Ninety-fourth Day.
Private House,
Battle Creek, Michigan,
August Thirteenth.
On the preceding evening a full house greeted me at Stuart's Hall, where I was introduced by a comrade of the G. A. R., Lieutenant Eugene T. Freeman. After the lecture I met several of the leading men of the town and later was invited to a private residence, where I was made at home during the remainder of my stay. The Lieutenant called for me on Sunday morning, and I accompanied him to church, meeting the pastor, Rev. L. D. Palmer, who spoke with animation and warmth and made the service an effective one. I enjoyed it all the more perhaps as I realized that before many Sundays I would be on the Great Plains beyond the Mississippi, where churches are known to be very rare. Continuing his courtesies, my comrade friend drove me out to the favorite resort, Lake Goguac, in the afternoon and there I had several fine views of the surrounding country. This little incident suggests an interesting theory concerning one of the pre-historic races who are supposed to have occupied this section of the country. It seems that in the ancient symbolic manuscripts of the Aztecs frequent mention is made of a land which they called Aztelan, compounded of the symbols A. T. S. and signifying "Lake Country," from which also their own name is derived, making it to mean "the people of the lake country." They refer to their former home as a country lying towards the north and giving further details which might be descriptive of the Peninsular State—so the theorist thinks. As a coincident, but advanced nevertheless as a strong argument, the learned gentleman states that the Wyandots have a tradition to the effect that hundreds of years ago, the builders of the mounds were driven southward by invaders from the northeast; and pursuing the magic thread, he suggests that the Aztecs were usurpers in Mexico according to their own traditions and the corroboration of Spanish history. If this is the case, my comrade and myself, in visiting this pretty little lake, may have trodden upon the same soil which had been pressed by the feet of the mysterious builders of the mounds. I am personally a trifle sceptical on this point, and believe that the key to this part of ancient history is yet to be found.
Ninety-fifth Day.
Kalamazoo House,
Kalamazoo, Michigan,
August Fourteenth.
On this day I passed a fine wheat-growing section in the valley of the Kalamazoo, whose richest part is probably near the Big Village—its namesake. This river, which drains Hillsdale, Kalamazoo, Calhoun and Allegan counties, and is navigable for forty miles above its mouth, has, I believe, more traffic than any one of the rivers of Michigan. Throughout its length of two hundred miles it flows through pine and oak forests, through the richest section of a State famed for its agricultural products, and like the Nile, if I may so compare the relics of a great people with those of one comparatively unknown, is looked down upon by the silent monuments of the past. To me the comparison is not unreasonable, for I consider the tumuli of those mound-builders scattered over the hills and valleys of America, worthy of as much interest and respect as the more splendid remnants of a higher civilization.
At this point the stream is still broad and picturesque. As to its name I am undecided. According to some it is a corruption of Ke-Kenemazoo, meaning "the boiling pot," and according to others of Kik-alamazoo, "the mirage river," because to the fanciful Indian the stones that jutted, dark and wet, out of the river-bed looked like otters. The village on its banks was settled in 1829, and after being known for two years by the name of its first settler, Bronson, became, in 1836, Kalamazoo. It is thoroughly alive, has a population of about 18,000, and its position as the half-way place between Detroit and Chicago adds considerably to its importance. I lectured here to a full house, being introduced by Major R. F. Judson, formerly of General Custer's staff, and bearing a high reputation as a soldier. Intercourse with one who had known the General so well, and who held him in such loyal regard, gave me a new insight into the life of
"That mighty man of war,
A lion in battle, and a child by the fireside."
Ninety-sixth Day.
Albion House,
Albion, Michigan,
August Fifteenth.
I came back to this place from Kalamazoo on the afternoon train and was met at the station by R. A. Daniels, who went with me to the hotel. The introduction at the Opera House where I lectured in the evening was made by Captain Rienzi Loud. When I concluded, I found that the good old custom of "passing round the hat" had not yet lost favor, for two gentlemen, having furnished the "hat," assumed the role of collectors and the "Fund" was within a very short time substantially increased. When this ceremony was over a man in the audience rose and said: "Captain Glazier! I came in after the hat was passed, but I want to give something toward the 'Monument;'" and suiting the action to the word he made his contribution. The whole ceremony was so suggestive of a certain little church up in St. Lawrence County, New York, where the same custom prevails on Sundays, that I came very near fancying myself the parson, and if some of my comrades had not come up immediately and given me a hearty greeting, I might have been guilty of pronouncing a benediction!
As it was quite late when I reached this point, having made twenty-five miles since ten o'clock, there was very little time for sightseeing, but I learned that here was the seat of Ames College, a thriving Methodist institution admitting both men and women, and proudly referred to by the people of Albion.
Ninety-seventh Day.
72 West Main Street,
Battle Creek, Michigan,
August Sixteenth.
Called at Captain Loud's law office at Albion in the morning, and had a delightful chat over old times, our topic an inexhaustible one—the battles and incidents of the late war. As this town was only a short distance away, I was tempted to prolong the chat into a visit, finding the Captain a cordial comrade.
According to previous agreement I lectured in the evening at Wayne Hall, Marshall, having an introduction by Colonel Charles W. Dickie.
My horse was now in Michigan City, being treated for the sore on his back by an old comrade, who since the war had attained quite a reputation as a veterinary surgeon. The delay was somewhat annoying as I anticipated trouble in crossing the Rockies, if I did not reach them before the season was too far advanced; but there was a possibility of disabling the animal if his affliction were neglected, and my sympathies were with him. As the delay could not be avoided I availed myself of the "Iron Horse" and on it made brief tours to the neighboring towns.
At this time it was very easy to agree with the theory of the fatalist that "whatever is, is right," for by an accident I was enabled to meet more agreeable people, to enjoy their hospitality, and to see more, which was my chief purpose in crossing the continent.
A philosopher never worries about little hindrances, for he soon learns that a delay often proves to be an advantage. Such was my case.
A MILL IN THE FOREST.
Ninety-eighth Day.
72 West Main Street,
Battle Creek, Michigan,
August Seventeenth.
Soon after breakfast I left Marshall for Battle Creek on a freight train, as there were no passenger coaches over the road until the afternoon. This mode of travel, if not the most luxurious, was at least novel, and we made very good time. Between the two places the face of the country hardly changed in appearance. There were the same fields of wheat and corn, and at Battle Creek evidently as much business in the flour mills as at Marshall.
The creek, uniting here with the Kalamazoo, after a serpentine course of forty miles, supplies the water-power and gives the necessary impetus to trade.
I have heard that the tributary won its bellicose name through a little difficulty between the first surveyors of public land who came to mark this section and some Indians. The quarrel ended seriously, and, as the tradition goes, two of the Indians were killed.
It may have been that the latter were making an attempt to hold the ground, and that it was but one of the many similar occurrences which were to convince the red man that he was superfluous. Calhoun County was certainly worth making a stand for. Its soil was rich, providing abundantly for the simple wants of the savage, and in the clear waters of the St. Joseph and the Kalamazoo tributaries many a paddle had descended with a deft stroke, upon the gleaming back of pike and pickerel.
Ninety-ninth Day.
32 Portage Street
Kalamazoo, Michigan,
August Eighteenth.
At nine o'clock I was once more on Paul's back possessed of a stronger sense of satisfaction than had been mine for many days. The truth is, I had missed my four-legged companion sorely. Reached Augusta at noon. I had a good old-fashioned dinner; and the horse something that was quite satisfactory, and at four o'clock we started on again for Kalamazoo. Soon after I left the village a thunder-shower came up, but there was a convenient tree at hand and we were not slow in reaching it. Thinking that all was well I again put spur to Paul and we started forward, this time coming in sight of the little village of Comstock, three miles east of Kalamazoo, before our progress was interrupted. Off in the distance the warning whistle of an approaching train broke in upon the stillness; the familiar rumble of wheels followed, and in a moment more, as it was rushing by, Paul made a leap of forty feet over the embankment. He was good enough to leave me and the saddle behind. It was a narrow escape and I was severely stunned, but was soon up again getting my bearings. I found my horse standing in the stream stripped of everything except the bridle, and, with the exception of a slight trace of nervousness in him, looking as though nothing unusual had occurred. We reached Kalamazoo a little later, and there I wrote to Mr. Bulkley as follows:
Kalamazoo House,
Kalamazoo, Michigan,
August 18, 1876.
J. M. Bulkley, Esq.,
Secretary Custer Monument Association,
Monroe, Michigan.Dear Sir:—I have the pleasure of transmitting to Judge Wing, through Major R. F. Judson, the net proceeds of my lecture, delivered in this place on the evening of the sixteenth instant. I desire to accompany my gift with an acknowledgment of many courtesies extended by the press and band of this patriotic village. I resume my journey this afternoon and shall speak at Niles, South Bend, and Laporte before the close of the present week. Hoping that your brightest anticipations for the "Monument" may be most fully realized, I remain
Very sincerely yours, Willard Glazier.
This letter I preserved, as I wished to have all the correspondence upon the subject of the "Monument" for future reference.
One Hundredth Day.
Dyckman House,
Paw Paw, Michigan,
August Nineteenth.
Had an early breakfast at Kalamazoo. Ordered Paul, and mounting him rode through the Big Village to take a last look. Before leaving I called upon Major Judson and Colonel F. W. Curtenius. The latter of whom has had a brilliant career. Graduating from Hamilton College in 1823, he studied law and later went to South America, enlisting in the cause of the Brazilians. He served through the war with Mexico, was appointed adjutant-general of Michigan in 1855, holding this office until 1861, having received the high title of Senator in 1853 and being re-elected to the office in 1867. The Colonel's father was a general in the war of 1812, and was for many years a member of the New York Legislature. I am only familiar with Major Judson's military record, but his services as a citizen are no doubt as honorable as was his career as a soldier.
With these gentlemen I entrusted the proceeds of my lecture and the letter to Mr. Bulkley, with the request that they be transmitted to the Monument Association at Monroe. They expressed their appreciation of my gift in warm terms and handed me the following acknowledgments:
Kalamazoo, Michigan,
August 19, 1876.Received of Captain Willard Glazier the net proceeds of his lecture at this place, which sum is to be applied to the fund for the erection of a Monument to the memory of the late General Custer at Monroe City, Michigan. We take great pleasure in speaking of Captain Glazier in the highest terms, not only on account of the self-devotion he has manifested in a noble cause, but of his indomitable perseverance and energy. We trust he will, wherever he goes, receive the unanimous support of the citizens whom he addresses.
F. W. Curtenius,
Late Colonel U. S. Volunteers.
I take great pleasure in fully endorsing the above, and recommending to public confidence and support Captain Willard Glazier, in his efforts in behalf of the Custer Monument Association,
R. F. Judson,
Late Aide to General Custer.
With an exchange of salutations and good wishes from the friends whose courtesies I considered it an honor to receive, I left Kalamazoo for Paw Paw. The ride between these towns was unusually trying. Paul's back was still tender, the heat was intense, and under these circumstances it was necessary to cover fourteen miles before any refreshment could be had.
One hundred and first Day.
Dyckman House,
Paw Paw, Michigan,
August Twentieth.
This Sunday was a perfect day for rest, and I indulged in a generous amount. Had breakfast at eight o'clock, after which I strolled through the streets of the Van Buren County capital, finding them generally like all other village streets, but with enough individuality about them to make them interesting. The High School stood, with the usual dignity of educational institutions, prominent among the neat cottages, and in the business portion two or three newspaper offices gave unfailing proof of local alertness.
The east and west branches of the Paw Paw River meet here and hurry on to pay their tribute to the Kalamazoo, offering their united strength to the business concerns which man has erected on their shores. The outlying farms thus naturally irrigated are very rich, and give, with the extensive lumbering interests, a very flourishing and prosperous appearance to this section of country and a certain briskness to the trade at Paw Paw.
On returning to my room I copied the testimonials given me by Colonel Curtenius and Major Judson of Kalamazoo, wrote several letters, attended to some neglected dates in my journal, and made my plans for the next few days. It was my intention to go to South Bend by rail the following morning, to lecture there in the evening and then proceed to Grand Rapids, where I was announced for Tuesday. My horse was in the meantime undergoing new and vigorous treatment which I hoped would permanently cure him.
One hundred and Second Day.
Grand Central Hotel,
South Bend, Indiana,
August Twenty-first.
At ten o'clock I left Paw Paw, reached Decatur at noon, registered at the Duncombe House and then continued my journey by rail. I hardly realized that I was out of Michigan in this town on the St. Joseph, for the river belongs to the "Wolverines" with the exception of the capricious South Bend, and the streets have the breadth and abundance of shade that have won so much admiration for the cities of Michigan. It has, besides, the Hoosier enterprise, and began to be an important manufacturing place fifteen years ago. The first settlement began in 1831 with a handful of houses and a population of a hundred souls. It has now reached over 10,000. Prominent among the resources to which its growth may be attributed is its proximity to the hard-wood forests of Northern Indiana and Michigan.
These woods have proven a bonanza to South Bend. Enterprising manufacturers have drawn from their unfailing source; prominent among them being the Studebaker Brothers, who have had an enviable career. These enterprising men started in 1852 with a cash capital of sixty-eight dollars, and a knowledge of blacksmithing which they had acquired at their father's forge on the Ohio. Thus equipped they went to work, turning out two wagons the first year. The present output makes that humble beginning seem almost incredible. Studebaker's wagons are famous and the firm controls capital stock amounting to a million of dollars. The other notable enterprise is the Oliver Chilled Plow Works, founded in 1853 by James Oliver, a Scotchman, who came to Indiana to follow the vocation of an iron master, and who ultimately had the satisfaction of exporting his manufactures to his native country.
The most distinguished citizen of South Bend at the time of my visit, and the most prominent man in Indiana, was Hon. Schuyler Colfax, whose career as a statesman was a singularly brilliant one. For over a quarter of a century he had been eminent in state and national politics. Beginning life as an editor he founded in 1845 the St. Joseph Valley Register, an organ of considerable popularity and which at the time had a strong influence in local Whig circles. His subsequent duties as Speaker of the House of Representatives and the friend and adviser of Lincoln, kept him out of editorial work, and later he was entirely engrossed with affairs of state. In 1868 he was elected to the office of Vice-President under General Grant as chief executive.
One Hundred and Third Day.
Sweet's Hotel,
Grand Rapids, Michigan,
August Twenty-second.
My birthday. Went by rail from South Bend to Kalamazoo in the morning; had dinner at the latter place, and then caught an early train for Grand Rapids, where, finding that George had made unusually good arrangements, I spoke in Luce's Hall to one of the largest audiences which greeted me in Michigan, General W. P. Innes, well known in Grand Army circles and a mason of high rank, introducing me. A large and strongly executed painting of the Battle of Lookout Mountain, stretching across the rear of the platform, made a striking effect and gave zest to my reference to the War for the Union.
My reception at this place was so hearty that I should have enjoyed a longer visit; but plans already laid prevented. I knew the town itself well, for I had previously been there. It is full of interest both on account of its past history and its present activity. The city lies on both sides of the Grand River and seems to be hedged in by the great bluffs that reach along at the water edge of the valley two miles apart. Below is a stratum of limestone rock, forming the bed of the river, for about a mile and a half with a descent of eighteen feet causing the rapids and supplying the water-power. Gypsum is quarried here in large quantities, and this industry supplemented by manufactures and fruit culture gives it its commercial importance. Perhaps its most striking peculiarity is to be found in the large proportion of Hollanders who swell the population. Their churches, their newspapers and their general thrift give them a high standing in the community, and what they have ever been accorded—a reputation for being loyal and enterprising citizens.
In 1760 there was a very different state of things here. The Ottawa Indians had a large village below the rapids, and there Pontiac's voice was heard, calling upon the chiefs to aid him in his projected siege of Detroit. Here the fur traders had their grand depot, and the missionaries labored in the cause of Christianity; and when in 1834 the Indian settlement began its metamorphosis, some bold prophet declared that it would soon be "the brightest star in the constellation of western villages." This prophecy has been more than fulfilled, for Grand Rapids is the acknowledged metropolis of Western Michigan. In the mail that awaited me was a copy of the South Bend Herald, containing a pleasant notice which chronicled in true newspaper diction the fact that
"Captain Glazier delivered his lecture 'Echoes from the Revolution' at the Academy of Music last evening. Promptly at eight o'clock the lecturer, with Mr. J. F. Creed, appeared on the platform. Mr. Creed in introducing the lecturer stated the object of the lecture to be in aid of the Custer Monument Association of Monroe, Michigan. He also read several letters introducing Captain Glazier to the public, from well-known citizens of Michigan, and acknowledging receipts of the proceeds of the lectures delivered in Detroit and Kalamazoo. The theme of the lecturer afforded a fine field for the display of his talents as a speaker. Possessing a fine imagination, good descriptive powers and the real qualities of an orator, he could not fail to please the really intelligent audience which greeted him last evening. Probably one hour and a half were consumed in its delivery; but the interest and attention did not flag nor tire, and when the speaker took leave of his audience he was greeted with several rounds of applause."
One Hundred and Fourth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
August Twenty-third.
Came down from Grand Rapids in the morning intending to stop on the way at Lawton, but was carried by through the carelessness of a brakeman who neglected to announce the stations. The town is quite an important point on the road for its size owing to the extensive fruit orchards of the surrounding farms. This common industry which has sprung up in all parts of the State, but especially in the southern portion, and which attracts more attention than anything else, is a contradiction to the statements of those who examined the country while it was yet a wilderness.
In 1815 the surveyor-general of Ohio made a journey through the State and soberly reported that not more than one acre in a thousand in Southern Michigan would in any case admit of cultivation, yet notwithstanding that worthy's opinion, six hundred thousand peach trees flourished in Southwestern Michigan in 1872! Surely that is a fact to be proud of. On my arrival at Decatur I found the Eagle of Grand Rapids, containing mention of my lecture at that place as follows:
"A very large audience gathered at Luce's Hall last night to hear Captain Willard Glazier. The speaker was earnest and impassioned, his lecture was delivered with a force and eloquence that pleased his hearers, and all who were in the hall went away glad that they had been there, and ready to add to the praises that have been bestowed on Captain Glazier as soldier, author and orator."
Such notices were gratifying—not for the leaven of flattery which they contained, but because they helped along the cause which was to raise a shaft to the deserving dead. For this reason I appreciated the comments of the press and owed much to its co-operation. It is a pleasure to me to acknowledge my indebtedness to this most powerful agent of modern times.
One Hundred and Fifth Day.
Dyckman House,
Paw Paw, Michigan,
August Twenty-fourth.
Took the Michigan Central to Lawton, and changing cars there continued my journey to this place by the Paw Paw Road. Thinking that it might facilitate matters, I had my saddle padded here, and had a talk with the saddler besides, as the delay was becoming serious. At this crisis, if man and horse could have set up a partnership, like the fabled Centaurs, how we could have flown before the wind—or even outstripped the Michigan Central—as we galloped across country towards the setting sun! That old myth was an inspiration. Was it invented by some fanciful traveller-horseman hindered on his way to Rome or Athens, by a saddler or a veterinary surgeon?
During my forced visit, the people of Paw Paw were very kind, making the time pass agreeably and giving me a pleasant recollection to take away. These small social influences carried great weight with them, and helped to bear out the universally acknowledged fact that associations are all powerful.
It is not strange that people, rather than their abode or works, strongly impress themselves, nor that, realizing this, they should be cordial in their hospitality. If, then, I praise the beauty or enterprise of these American towns, I bear witness at the same time, to the kindness and courtesy of their inhabitants. Whether East or West, these qualities were everywhere apparent, proving the universality of generous feeling.
One Hundred and Sixth Day.
Private House,
Niles, Michigan,
August Twenty-fifth.
Leaving Paw Paw after breakfast I went down to Lawton by rail, where I changed cars, taking the Michigan Central to Niles, this for the purpose of making use of the extra time that now hung heavily upon my hands. A good proportion of the six thousand inhabitants came to Kellogg Hall in the evening to manifest their interest in the Custer Monument and the old Revolutionary heroes, Mr. J. T. Head giving the introduction.
Reaching Niles before noon I had ample time to look about, and to hear from old residents something of Berrien County and their home here on the St. Joseph.
NO ROOMS TO LET.
For those who delight in searching out events from the doubtful past, there is suggestion enough here to keep them occupied for at least a week. Even this small town possesses records that date back to 1669, when Pere Allouez came along down the river on a voyage of discovery and who may have encamped on the very site of Niles, for all that the people who live there now know. But putting this aside, it is certain that in 1700 the Jesuits had a mission a short distance south of the present city, and that there were forts built here and there in the vicinity as a protection against the Indians. Later, when matters were settled and the English and French had long since withdrawn, the Reverend Isaac McCoy came out into the wilderness with his family and established Cary Mission, probably in sight of where the old Jesuit Mission stood. This was in 1820. Six years afterwards a handful of cabins made their appearance, and out of this nucleus the town of Niles was evolved. This is a mere outline without the adornment of those pleasant little fictions that cling about the sober history of every inhabited place on earth, and which delight the ear of most travellers, for there may be those who follow me who echo the sentiment of the Michigan pioneer, "From legend and romance, good Lord, deliver us!"
One Hundred and Seventh Day.
Private House,
La Porte, Indiana,
August Twenty-sixth.
Was compelled to avail myself of livery accommodations in order to meet my evening engagement at La Porte. Rode in a hack to South Bend, and finally reached my destination by way of the Michigan Central and Southern Indiana roads. My advance agent, Babcock, met me at the station, and I accompanied him to the home of a Mr. Munday, who I discovered was the father of an old fellow-prisoner at "Libby."
I was delighted with the situation and appearance of the town. It rises on the border of a beautiful and fruitful prairie, its northern end bounded by a chain of seven lakes which make an ideal resort in summer, and is at a sufficient distance from the great body of water which dips down into that corner of the State, to enjoy a comparatively mild climate. Its population is about 8,000, of which a good share is employed in the foundries, machine shops and mills that make up its business activity. The younger element is provided for in good schools, and that luxury of modern communities—the public library—is zealously supported. On a line with it, as a free and instructive institution, the Natural History Association, founded in 1863, holds an honored place, and unlike most societies of a similar character has succeeded in making its researches of interest. In fact for its size the city has made great progress in literary and educational directions.
One Hundred and Eighth Day.
Jewell House,
Michigan City, Indiana,
August Twenty-seventh.
After my lecture of the previous evening at La Porte, I took the first train to this city—emphatically the City of Sand. Time and winds have raised great hills of sand on every side, and from their crests one can look off for miles over the lake, getting perhaps a deeper impression of its vastness than from a less monotonous lookout.
These sand dunes are supposed by some to be caused by a peculiar meteorological phenomena of currents and counter-currents acting vertically instead of horizontally. Whatever the cause, they have made Indiana's only port of entry a place of such striking peculiarity, that, once seen, I doubt if it would ever be forgotten.
In the forenoon I went out on the lake in a small yacht; but finding the little craft unequal to the heavy waves which were rushing in from the north, I soon turned back, having gained by the venture a better idea of the dunes and of their extent as they stretch along the western shore.
The fact that they are "building upon the sand" gives the people of Michigan City very little concern, probably because they know there is terra firma somewhere beneath their foundations.
Ames College occupies a site here, and the Car Shops are important and extensive.
One hundred and Ninth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
August Twenty-eighth.
Taking an early train, I returned to this place in the morning, where I had decided to remain for a few days in order to allow more time for the treatment of my horse, and to give my brother and Babcock an opportunity to insure a full house at Farwell Hall, Chicago, where I was announced to lecture on the eleventh of September.
I had begun to fear that the irritation on Paul's back would develop into that most disgusting and painful disease of horses known as fistula; and although he never showed any impatience, I had not the heart to ride him while in this condition.
My quarters were quite comfortable at the only hotel in town, and I thanked my stars that I was not stranded in some little backwoods place with the choice of "the softest boards on the floor for a bed," and other accommodations to match—a state of affairs which a waylaid journeyman once had to face, who, with the soul of a Stoic, left on his window-pane the comforting couplet:
"Learn hence, young man, and teach it to your sons:
The easiest way's to take it as it comes."
In fact I was doubly fortunate. No sooner had I reached Decatur than I lost the consciousness of being "a stranger within the gates," having been so cordially made to feel that I was among friends, and that the cause which I had taken up in Michigan met with their hearty sympathy.
RURAL SCENE IN MICHIGAN.
One hundred and Tenth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
August Twenty-ninth.
Met George L. Darby, an old comrade of the "Harris Light," in the afternoon. He had noticed my signature on the hotel register, and came at once to my room, where after the heartiest of greetings we sat down for a long talk. Thirteen years had slipped away since the time of our capture at New Baltimore, Virginia, which led him to Belle Isle and me to Libby Prison, and yet as we discussed it all, the reality of those events seemed undiminished. Kilpatrick, Stuart, Fitzhugh Lee—their clever manœuvring, and our own unfortunate experiences on that day, kept us as enthusiastically occupied as though it were not an old story: but soldiers may be pardoned for recurring to those events which, while they impressed themselves upon witnesses with indelible distinctness, may yet have lost their bitterness, when it is remembered that before many years they and their stories will have passed away. To those who indulge in the absurd belief that such topics are discussed with malicious intent, no justification need be made.
Led on from one thing to another, I found Darby finally plying me with questions of kindly interest about my peaceful march from Ocean to Ocean, and anxiously asking about my horse, which I had previously left in his care. He offered to do all he could for the animal and with this comforting assurance took his leave.
One hundred and Eleventh Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
August Thirtieth.
Early in the afternoon Darby called with fishing tackle and proposed that we go out to Lake of the Woods and try our luck with hook and line. The expedition was not successful as far as fish was concerned, but we had a delightful boat ride and plenty of talk.
The lake, a pretty little dot lying, as its name implies, in the heart of the woods, is an ideal spot for rest and enjoyment, and its miniature dimensions bear no resemblance to its famed namesake of Minnesota. As we had such poor success with our tackle I took no note of the kind of fish that make their home within its sleepy borders, and my companion gave me very little information. The truth is, we were more interested in our concerns and the serious affairs outside the sport which so fascinated Izak Walton.
One hundred and Twelfth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
August Thirty-first.
Albert W. Rogers, to whom I had been previously introduced, called late in the afternoon, and invited me to drive with him, determined, he told me, that I should see something of Decatur's surroundings. The time was favorable for agreeable impressions. It had been a typical summer day, with blue sky, a slight breeze and the mercury at 70°; in short, just such weather as I had encountered in this section of Michigan throughout the month of August, and as evening approached, I was prepared to enjoy to the utmost the pleasure which my new acquaintance had provided.
SPINNING YARNS BY A TAVERN FIRE.
On the outskirts of the town one gets a view of gently rolling country under a splendid state of cultivation, the yellow of the grain fields predominating, and dotted here and there with farmhouses. Dark outlines against the horizon suggested the forests of oak, ash, maple, birch and elm, which stretch over such large tracts of Van Buren County, and which have made a little paradise for lumbermen. Wheat, maize and hay appeared to be nourishing; but I believe that agricultural products do their best in the rich bottom-lands bordering the rivers. I have dwelt so enthusiastically upon this fertile country that to say more would seem extravagant, so I will bring my note, the chronicle of a most delightful day, to a close.
One Hundred and Thirteenth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
September First.
Received and answered a large mail after breakfast, and in the afternoon took a walk through the village. One is, of course, reminded of the gallant Commodore whose name, once among the greatest in America, now honors this modest Western town, and whose deeds, once upon every lip in the young republic, are wellnigh forgotten. The question even suggests itself as to how many of those who live here, where his name is perpetuated, are familiar with his life and character.
His capture of the frigate Philadelphia, which had been seized and held in the harbor of Tripoli in 1801, during the pacha's seizure of our merchantmen, was said by Admiral Nelson to be "the most daring act of the age," and his diplomacy at Algiers and Tunis and Tripoli, where in 1812 his demands were acceded to, received the applause of all Christendom, especially because those demands included the release of the Christian captives at Algiers and of the Danish and Neapolitan prisoners at Tripoli, and ended, forever, the pretensions of the Barbary powers.
After the trial of Commodore Barron for cowardice, Decatur made some remarks which the former thought should not be allowed to pass unnoticed, and accordingly called upon his accuser to retract them. This Decatur refused to do, but attempted to bring about a reconciliation. Barren refused this and threw down the gauntlet, and when shortly afterwards the two met to settle the difficulty "with honor," both fell at the word "Fire!"—Decatur mortally wounded. The affair was universally deplored, for his loyal services had endeared Decatur to his country, and when his remains were taken to the grave, they were followed by the largest concourse of people that had ever assembled in Washington.
One Hundred and Fourteenth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
September Second.
This was a great day for Decatur. With the morning came the completion of arrangements for a Republican mass-meeting, and a rustic band from an adjacent village arrived at nine o'clock in a farm wagon. The "Stars and Stripes" floated majestically over the heads of the patriotic musicians, and the people were drawn from every quarter to the stirring call of fife and drum, eager to see their leaders and to listen to their views upon the vital questions of the day. The "Silver Cornet Band" of Dowagiac co-operated with the "Decatur Fife and Drum Corps," in rousing the dormant element of the place, and, as its imposing appellation would imply, did so with dignified and classical selections.
The political campaign which had been slumbering since the nomination of Hayes and Tilden reached an interesting stage of its progress at this time, and the friends and champions of the rival candidates were fully alive to the issues of their respective platforms.
By nightfall the place was the scene of great activity, and to an onlooker produced a singular effect. Men were collected in groups engaged in excited conversation, torches flared in every direction, while at brief intervals all voices were drowned in some lively tune from the silver cornets or the fife and drum.
At an appointed hour the speakers of the evening appeared, and I noticed among them Hon. Ransom H. Nutting and Hon. Thomas W. Keightly—the latter a candidate for Congress from this district. The meeting closed at a late hour, after a succession of heated addresses, and yet the politicians of Van Buren County seemed not at all averse to continuing their talking until sunrise.
One hundred and fifteenth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
September Third.
Accepting an invitation from Albert Rogers, I accompanied him to the Presbyterian Church in the morning, where Rev. Mr. Hoyt, a young clergyman, conducted the services and preached a very good sermon. I was pleased by the courtesy extended me when he said, in the course of his announcements. "I take pleasure in calling attention to Captain Glazier's lecture at Union Hall to-morrow night. I shall be present myself, and recommend all who wish to listen to an instructive and patriotic lecture to be at the hall before eight o'clock." When the service was over Mr. Rogers and I waited to have a few words with Mr. Hoyt, who was evidently very much interested in my journey across country and who intended to lend his influence in behalf of the "Monument Fund." We then returned to the hotel where I passed the remainder of the day quietly in my room.
One hundred and Sixteenth Day.
Duncombe House,
Decatur, Michigan,
September Fourth.
Lectured to a full house at Union Hall in the evening. My sojourn of a week at this place and the interest felt in the effort to perpetuate the memory of Custer, brought about the most gratifying results. Among those who were with me on the platform were Hon. Ransom Nutting, Rev. Mr. Hoyt, Prof. Samuel G. Burked and Albert W. Rogers. I was presented by Mr. Nutting, after which testimonials from the Monument Association were read by Prof. Burked, and later the following pleasant acknowledgment from these gentlemen was handed me:
Decatur, Michigan,
September 4, 1876.Captain Willard Glazier,
My Dear Sir: We take this means of expressing to you our appreciation of the highly instructive and very entertaining lecture delivered by you at Union Hall this evening. Truly we admire your plan and your generosity in giving the entire proceeds to the Custer Monument Fund. Our endorsement is the expression of our village people generally. You have made many friends here.
May success attend you throughout your journey.
Very respectfully,
S. Gordon Burked,
Ransom Nutting,
Albert W. Rogers.
Such greeting as this, extended to me all along my way, gives substantial proof of the universal kindness with which I was received, and of the spontaneous hospitality of the American citizen.
One hundred and Seventeenth Day.
Seymour House,
Dowagiac, Michigan,
September Fifth.
There was a large gathering in front of the Duncombe House in the morning when I mounted Paul and faced westward, turning my back upon the hospitable little village in which I had spent so many pleasant days, and where I felt that I had indeed made many friends. Mr. Rogers and a young man of the place, whose name I am sorry to have forgotten, escorted me out of town intending to ride with me to Dowagiac, but an approaching rain-storm obliged them to turn back. As I came in sight of the village I noticed unmistakable signs of a stream which I discovered was the Dowagiac River, a tributary of the St. Joseph, entering it near Niles. It has been put to good account by the millers, who have established themselves here, and in its small way adds to the blessings of the Michigan husbandmen on its shores.
One hundred and Eighteenth Day.
Private House,
Niles, Michigan,
September Sixth.
The threatening storm which led my Decatur friends to turn back on the previous afternoon, set in soon after my arrival at Dowagiac, and I considered myself very fortunate, as it was accompanied by the most violent thunder and lightning that I had yet encountered. Notwithstanding this disturbed condition of the elements, I was greeted by a full house at Young Men's Hall, where I was introduced by Dr. Thomas Rix.
I found a few familiar faces at Niles which I had seen during my previous visit, and several new places of interest about the town. Navigation on the St. Joseph ends at this point, and the narrowed stream is spanned by a railroad bridge; and the water-power increased by a dam. There is a brisk business carried on at the water's edge.
The mills are well supplied with grain from outlying fields, and boats are continually plying back and forth laden with lumber, grain, flour and fruit, which are shipped from here in large quantities. In fact, for its size—it claims I believe, a population of something over 4,000—Niles is full of energy and ambition. I found myself on this second visit very much interested in the place and pleased that circumstances had made necessary a second halt.
One hundred and Nineteenth Day.
Konnard House,
Buchanan, Michigan,
September Seventh.
Resumed my journey at two o'clock in the afternoon at a small way place between Niles and Buchanan, where I rested at noon. The heavy rains of the preceding days had left the roads in a most wretched condition, and the distance was considerably lengthened as it was necessary to avoid pools and washouts, so that it took two hours of slow riding to reach my destination. Darby, who had gone forward with my advance agents, was the first to greet me at this place and to inform me of the arrangements made for my lecture in the evening.
As my day's journey had been undertaken leisurely, I started out on a tour of inspection, after having first made comfortable provision for Paul. I found a flourishing village, having a population of something over 2,000, and prettily situated on the St. Joseph River. As I walked in and out through its streets and looked for the last time upon the stream, which for its romantic history and natural charm had forced itself upon my notice so often, I could not avoid a certain feeling of regret that this was to be my last halt in the great State through which I had made such a pleasant and profitable journey. Pictures of orchard and meadow, of wheat field and river, passed in review once more, and with them the recollection of the splendid part the patriots of Michigan bore in the War for the Union, than whom was none more loyal than the heroic Custer, for whose memory I had spoken and received such warm response.
One hundred and Twentieth Day.
Private House,
Rolling Prairie, Indiana,
September Eighth.
Called for my horse at Buchanan at nine o'clock in the morning, intending to stop at New Buffalo, but once on the road, I decided instead to make this village my evening objective. A heavy rain-storm, setting in early in the forenoon, compelled me to take refuge at a farm house for about an hour, where I was initiated into the home life of the Northern Indiana "Hoosier." I am sorry to say that during this day's ride I encountered the worst roads and the dullest people of my journey. Many who have resided in this part of Indiana for thirty and even forty years are not only exceedingly illiterate, but know much less of the topography of the country than the average Indian—and absolutely nothing of the adjacent towns. As a consequence I was obliged to trust to chance, which brought me to Galion, a tiny hamlet on the outskirts of a swamp, where I had dinner. My ride thither was made under circumstances which suggested the ride of the belated Tam O'Shanter, and while my tortures could not compare with his, they were none the less acute while they lasted. I was met on the edge of the swamp by a swarm of mosquitoes—known in France as petite diables—who forced their attention upon me without cessation, in spite of the fact that I urged my horse forward at breakneck speed, Paul's steaming flanks and mire-covered legs attesting to the struggle, when we drew up in front of Galion Inn.
A HOOSIER CABIN.
One hundred and Twenty-first Day.
Jewell House,
Michigan City, Indiana,
September Ninth.
I considered myself fortunate, during my ride from Rolling Prairie to Michigan City—a distance of sixteen miles—in having a sandy road and no rain from the time of setting out in the morning until my arrival here in the evening, but I was less favored than usual in obtaining information.
The Presidential campaign was now at white heat and very little outside of politics was discussed. I found, however, that the ideas of many of the farmers were confused upon the issues. The three candidates in the field made the canvass unusually exciting. Hayes and Tilden were, of course, the central figures, but Peter Cooper of New York had many staunch supporters and a few enthusiasts rallied around Blaine, Conkling and Morton. The proprietor of the Jewell House—a Cooper man—was at this time much more interested in the success of his favorite than in the receipts of his hotel, and his halls and parlors were the rendezvous for men of all parties.
One hundred and Twenty-second Day.
Jewell House,
Michigan City, Indiana,
September Tenth.
As it was Sunday and I had a desire to visit the most imposing institution connected with Michigan City—the Northern State Penitentiary, I decided to make the two miles on foot, and be there for divine service. I found everything admirably conducted, and although such a place is not the most cheerful in the world to be shown through, I was well satisfied that I had gone, and was strongly impressed with the effect of the stern hand of the law. In the afternoon a heavy rain and wind storm came up, and I stayed in my room, the greater part of the time, writing up my journal, and arranging for my lecture tour across Illinois and Iowa, thereby accomplishing certain duties which fair weather might have tempted me to neglect.
It was my intention to go by rail to Chicago on the following morning, where I was announced to lecture at Farwell Hall.
Darby, to whom I have previously referred in connection with Decatur, and who was acting as advance agent in the small towns and villages that lay along my route, was with me during my stay at the Jewell House, and we had frequent talks over our adventures in the "Harris Light"—Second New York Cavalry—in which most of our active service was passed.
A CIRCUS IN TOWN.