He was not much given to swearing, though profanity seemed rather in the air. The good parsons preached against it, and some of the best men rarely used an oath.
For days nothing was talked of but the exploit. The Osceola had gone off with the cheers of the crowd. But when the jubilation subsided a little, new plans were made for the elevator to use horsepower instead of hand, and to enlarge its capacity.
Crops of all kinds had been good. The yield of corn was tremendous. Pigs were in demand; there was plenty to fatten them. We were almost as likely to have a boom in these products as there had been in real estate a few years before.
Mr. Dole had been slaughtering and packing cattle of both kinds down on Dearborn and South Water streets. The small log building where he first lived stood three doors east of the warehouse, but now he had built a more commodious dwelling. Mr. Thompson was in his new office and still busy surveying and mapping out lots, and making trades that, as father said, kept the log rolling without any money. Mr. Thomas Church had enlarged his store, and the women had a gala time going to see the pretty things every few months when a new stock came in.
The older inhabitants still kept to weaving linsey woolsey and common grades of woollen, as well as some of the coarser cotton cloths. Spinning and knitting was much in vogue, but the girls beginning to grow up rather protested against the labor. And the goods coming from the States and abroad were so pretty and tempting. So butter and eggs were bartered off, strong sacking stuff, pork and woollen stockings for the boatmen and the voyagers.
Mr. Carpenter was building a fine house over on the west side and setting out choice fruits that stirred others up to emulation. Then we had a daily paper, the American having started a precarious venture that most men predicted would be a failure, and "where could any one find news enough to fill up a daily paper?" was on the tongues of the objectors. It might not have been the highest intellectual pabulum, but we were not educated up to that mark, and somehow we took to the effort most cordially and wondered how we could have done without it.
"You can't wash out a hankercheer now an' hang it on a bush, a'thought everybody knowin' it," grumbled Grandmother Green, "an' I kin hear all the news I want on prayer-meetin' night. I hain't got no money to go foolin' round stores an' other people wouldn't 'nother if they paid ther' just debts."
CHAPTER VI
THEN THE UNCOMMON
That autumn a theatre was opened on the west side of Dearborn Street, over a general store, a plain, wooden building. The second floor was seated and a stage erected with rather crude paraphernalia. It was called the Rialto. A Mr. McKenzie was manager and stage director, and some very good plays were given with William Warren, Mrs. Ingersol and Mr. Jefferson, with little Joe in his first attempts. They had very fair audiences, and it was a step above the card playing. There were also some lectures given, and several educational plans brought to the fore. If they were to be a great city they must rouse themselves on every side.
I went to the theatre with Ruth and Mr. Gaynor. He, it seems, had seen several plays. Ruth was curiously interested.