SYRACUSE TO ROCHESTER.
Twenty-sixth Day.
Camillus House,
Camillus, New York,
June Third.
Mounted in front of the Vanderbilt House, Syracuse, at four o'clock in the afternoon. A large number of friends and acquaintances had assembled to see me off, among them many G. A. R. comrades, including General Sniper and Captain Auer; the latter a companion in Libby Prison during the late war. Thomas Babcock, who had been acting as an assistant to my advance agents, accompanied me as far as Geddes, and arranged to co-operate with my brother and Mr. Farrington in preparation for my lecture. In passing through this little suburb of Geddes, whose name by the way, keeps in memory one of the prominent men of Onondaga County, my attention was drawn to a fine building standing on a hill, overlooking Syracuse. I learned that it was the New York Asylum for Imbeciles and that the site, a magnificent sweep of upland, measuring fifty-five acres, was donated by the city. I was stopped just west of here by a thunder shower and took refuge under a tree. Paul and I had waited for storms to pass over before, and made excellent rainy-day friends. We rather enjoyed resting under some shelter until the dust was well laid and the air freshened. On our arrival at Camillus, myself and horse were literally covered with mud, the result of Paul's fright on the approach of a train at a point where it was impossible to leave the turnpike. We were trotting along quietly and had just turned a bend in the road when the quick ear of the horse caught the distant rumbling of wheels. In an instant he was on the alert, and when the swift express came round the curve, made a sudden spring to the right, leaped a rail-fence, and landed in a bog where the mud was two or three feet deep. I managed to keep the saddle, but could not avoid the mire in which we had haplessly fallen.
Twenty-seventh Day.
Jordan House,
Jordan, New York,
June Fourth.
By an hour's close application to my bespattered garments, after reaching the Camillus House, I found that I was ready to "turn in" for the night. Started forward in the morning, the ride on this perfect June day proving false the old saying that "Jordan is a hard road to travel." This village was reached about noon and I was quite prepared for the generous meal which was placed before me.
A FLOURISHING FARM.
When the gnawings of hunger had been appeased I gave myself up to the agreeable quiet of Sunday afternoon.
There was ample encouragement for such a course in this cosy little retreat at the head of Lake Skaneateles, for there was not a sound from store or mill while the people were taking their Sabbath rest.
This brief halt in the march forward was very agreeable, for it gave me an opportunity to try my own powers of locomotion, so little used since leaving Boston. It was a real luxury to stroll about the quiet lanes, and scan the outlying fields from the standpoint of a modest pedestrian. In the course of my rambles I came across some photographers from Auburn who had been taking views of the scenery about here. Some of their pictures were excellent.
Twenty-eighth Day.
Montezuma Hotel,
Montezuma, New York,
June Fifth.
The Auburn photographers whom I saw yesterday met me as I was riding out of Jordan, and proposed photographing myself and Paul. Some time was passed and several ruses resorted to in attempting to quiet the restless animal, but he skilfully avoided the camera.
At last some men who happened to be near offered their assistance, and attempted to attract the attention of the horse from a distance, by jumping up and down in a neighboring field. Paul threw his head forward, quietly and curiously watching their manœuvers. He was evidently amused, but there was no spirit to the picture. Unfortunately the "spirited" part of the scene was out of range.
This delay for vanity's sake prevented us from getting farther than Weedsport by noon, where a brief halt was made for dinner. I was met here by W. H. Ransom and the proprietor of the Howard House of Port Byron, who came over to Weedsport and escorted me to their village, where I had tea and was very courteously entertained for a few hours. On leaving Port Byron, these gentlemen rode forward with me towards Montezuma Swamp, which lies between the two towns. Here we parted company, there being no reason why they should "run the gauntlet" with me. I had heard wonderful tales of the dreaded monsters of this swamp, who were reputed to be the very worst mosquitoes on record, not excepting their famous kinsmen of the Hackensack Flats, New Jersey.
Unable to bear patiently the torture of my assailants who were swarming around me by thousands, I put spurs to Paul, and went through at a gallop; but notwithstanding this attempt to put the enemy to rout, superior numbers gave them the advantage and their victim came out covered with scars.
When Montezuma was reached we were glad to rest, for our late adventure had quite exhausted both horse and rider.
AN OLD LANDMARK.
Twenty-ninth Day.
Newark House,
Newark, New York,
June Sixth.
The journey along the line of the New York Central from Montezuma to Newark, was an exciting one to me and Paul. I had long since learned that whenever the route brought us in close proximity with the railroad, the quiet pursuit of our way was often varied by exciting moments, owing to Paul's suspicion of the "iron horse." The climax of these escapades was reached this morning, when Paul, becoming frightened by an approaching train repeated the experience of three days ago by plunging into a slough, about two miles from Newark, and completely covering himself and rider with mud. When I had recovered sufficiently to realize the situation, my thoughts were not as amiable, I fear, as those of Bunyan's good Christian, tried in like manner. The "slough of despond" was so very literal in this case.
I had made every effort to control the excited animal, but found the attempt useless; and I verily believe if he were between the infernal regions and a coming train, he would choose the former at a bound. It was rather trying to appear before people of the town in such a lamentable condition, to say nothing of the discomforts arising from damp clothing; but there was no alternative, so I followed my course; the unfortunate victim of circumstances.
Thirtieth Day.
Fairport House,
Fairport, New York,
June Seventh.
Resumed march at eight o'clock in the morning, but the weather was so oppressively warm and sultry, that I was obliged to wait over from noon until six o'clock. Riding in the cool of the day was much more agreeable, yet, notwithstanding the physical comfort, I must confess that the lonely and unknown road gave rather a gloomy forecast to my thoughts. Beside this, I found some difficulty in obtaining necessary directions, and lost the chief charm of the journey—a view of the beautiful country through which I was passing.
It had not been my intention to do any travelling after sundown unless the heat made it absolutely necessary, but in this instance I felt justified in changing the original plan. Moving along through the unfamiliar scenes, I missed the pleasant coloring of woods and fields under the broad light of day, the noisy hum the sunshine calls forth, and the sound of the birds, always the sweetest music to me. Instead of these there was the mystical silence of night, broken only by the clatter of Paul's hoofs over the dusty road. Four hours' steady travel brought us in sight of the straggling lights of the little post-village of Fairport, where we stopped for the night. Found several Rochester papers awaiting me here, which contained pleasant reference to my proposed lecture at Corinthian Hall.