The next morning, December 1st, I was up early, and made enquiries at the various offices representing the railway lines to Chicago, with the result that I took a ticket by the Pennsylvania route, and left New York at 10 o'clock a.m. The train service between New York and Chicago is one of the best, if not the best, in America. The cars are elegantly fitted; they are about the length of the Pullman cars we have in England. The best cars are those fitted with sleeping accommodation, and travellers having tickets for a "sleeper" have the privilege of using the sleeping car during the day. The sleeping cars are divided into squares capable of seating four persons, but the space is accorded to two only, as only two beds or berths can be made up in the space; the lower berth (which is always the favourite) is formed of the two double seats (the space for four seats), filled up in the centre by special fittings and mattresses, hidden during the day inside the seats; the upper berth is pulled down from the sloping roof of the car, and in the receptacle between the slope and the square are contained the bedding and the fittings. A curtain falls down over both the upper and lower berths, and, so far as one can, the dressing has to be done with the curtain hanging round one as one stands within it; and if on both sides of the car passengers happen to stand behind their respective curtains at the same time, they would touch one another and so block the passage-way. The dressing accommodation is so inconvenient that only partial undressing is adopted. The outside of the slope is polished mahogany, and in the daytime bears no indication whatever of what it really is, but looks like a handsome sloping polished mahogany roof. These cars are luxuriously fitted. Another car on the train is a handsome dining saloon, with kitchen attached, where you can order as good a dinner as you could obtain at an hotel. The cars are also fitted liberally with lavatories and water-closets, separate ones for ladies and for gentlemen. On this train is also a bath-room and a barber's shop. There are also one or two small private rooms, which can be hired separately. This train has also a recent addition, being what is called a drawing-room or observation car; this is the last on the train, and the end is fitted with glass, so that in riding along passengers in this car enjoy an uninterrupted view of the country they are leaving behind. On this special train a ladies' maid is provided for the convenience of ladies, and a stenographer, with his type-writing machine, occupies a seat in the vestibule of the drawing-room car to take down any urgent letters which business men may desire to post en route. The observation car is supplied with a library for the use of passengers, and is fitted with plate-glass windows and easy chairs. It has a platform where one can breathe the fresh air outside if desired. There is also a smoking-room car. On this special train the Stock Exchange reports of the New York and Philadelphia Exchanges are received and posted on the bulletin boards three times a day, and the weather reports are also posted. The whole of the train is thoroughly well heated by steam pipes, and lighted by electricity. The person in charge of a "sleeper" car is called the "porter;" he occupies a position, not like a porter on an English railway, but analagous to a steward on board ship.
On leaving New York I noticed that the suburbs contained many very small wooden houses, and the country had the appearance of many Colonial scenes I have witnessed—the land looked like reclaimed prairie, which it probably is; and after passing many homesteads and villages we ran into Philadelphia at 12.20. Philadelphia is the largest city, as to area, in the United States. It is situate on the west bank of the Delaware River. It is 22 miles long, and from 5 to 8 broad, comprising an area of 1,294 square miles. It has over 900 miles of paved streets. Philadelphia was founded by the celebrated William Penn, who went from England to America in 1682 A.D., and purchased the site of this great city from the Indians. William Penn's character was remarkable for his high sense of honour, and if the same principle had obtained throughout the history of the United States with the Indians, we should never have heard of any "Indian Difficulty." Penn presented the city with a charter in 1701. The city, built upon lands honestly and liberally bought from the Indians, prospered greatly, and its population continued to increase until it now reaches something approaching 900,000. Its chief source of wealth is from its manufactures, which embrace locomotives, and all kinds of ironware, ships, carpets, woollen and cotton goods, shoes, umbrellas, and books. It has more buildings than any other city in that country, and, in point of commerce, ranks fourth among the cities of the United States. I noticed that the suburbs of Philadelphia contained many handsome stone and brick residences. I felt much interested in the connection with William Penn, because he is one of the ancestors of the Penn-Gaskells of England, who for many years have been valuable and much-respected clients of mine, and in numerous transactions I have noticed in them that beautiful trait of strict honour which gave William Penn a world-wide character, and has descended from him to them.
Passing by many farm homesteads, villages, and towns, all having a prosperous kind of appearance, and described as "one of the richest agricultural districts in America," we ran into Harrisburg, which is the capital of Pennsylvania, and situate on the east bank of the Susquehanna River. About five miles above Harrisburg we crossed the Susquehanna River on a bridge 3,670 feet long, from the centre of which I am told there is a fine view, but I lost it, as a snowstorm was raging while I was crossing.
We stopped at Altoona, a large city lying at the foot of the Alleghanies, and in ascending the Alleghanies fine scenery and great engineering feats are discernible. From this we ran on to Pittsburg, which claims to be the best lighted city in America, the streets being brilliantly illuminated by arc and incandescent electric lights. Nine bridges cross the Allegheny, and five the Monongahela rivers. Pittsburg has been called the "iron city," and "smoky city"; it has immense glass, steel and iron manufactures, and in these three interests alone employs over 50,000 persons.
Then we proceed till, presently, we catch sight of Lake Michigan, and know that Chicago is not far off. We skirt the shore of this busy water, with its wharves, etc. On arrival (December 2nd) we drive through the city from the Pennsylvania to the North-Western terminus.
Chicago is 912 miles from New York: it is the greatest city in Illinois, and during the past 50 years has grown from a small Indian trading station into a metropolis. Chicago extends some 20 miles along the shores of Lake Michigan, and goes back from the lake to a depth of about four miles, thus embracing about 80 square miles; beyond these confines of the city proper the suburbs extend to some 6 to 10 miles in every direction. It will be remembered that in 1871 Chicago had a great fire, which burned an area of 3-1/8 square miles, destroyed 17,450 buildings, made 98,500 persons homeless, and killed outright about 200 more. The loss of property was estimated at 190,000,000 dollars, of which only 30,000,000 dollars were recovered from insurances, and this bankrupted some of the insurance companies. In 1874 another fire consumed 5,000,000 dollars' worth of property. Chicago is the great central depôt for grain, lumber and live stock. In 1888 there were packed at Chicago 4,500,000 hogs, and about 1,600,000 cattle. Chicago has also extensive iron, steel, wheel, car, flour, furniture, boot and shoe and tannery manufactures. In driving through I noticed one long street, to the right and left of the street I was traversing, thickly occupied with tradesmen's carts, backed on the kerb in the usual fashion, being loaded from the stores (or shops): there must have been a few hundred of them; I never saw so many in one street at one time anywhere in any part of the world. Chicago was cased in frozen snow, and thus was not very attractive; but I noticed many very fine buildings, and was much struck with the cosmopolitan character of the inhabitants. During the interval of waiting for the train on the North-Western to start I was able to see a little of the place, and found that some persons I spoke to could not speak English. They came apparently from all parts of the continent of Europe.
CHICAGO TO SAN FRANCISCO.
The train was due at Chicago (December 2nd) at 9.45 a.m., being exactly a 23 hours and 45 minutes' run from New York. Having crossed Chicago from one terminus to another, I found that three trains left Chicago by which I could travel to San Francisco—two were slow trains, and one a fast train; but, by whichever train I went, it would make no difference as to the time I left Omaha, and consequently no difference to the time I should arrive at San Francisco, so I went on by one of the slow trains, as I wanted to see Council Bluffs. This train was similarly fitted to the other, except that it had no drawing-room car, nor stenographer, etc., nor were the platforms connecting the carriages enclosed; so that, in passing to the dining car, or any other car, the sudden change from a hot car to a shower of snow was not pleasant. The distance from Chicago to Omaha is 492 miles, and the country between the two places formed a part of the great prairie region, which, 50 years ago, had no other inhabitant than the Indian and the trapper, but now is a succession of homesteads, villages, and towns, bearing evidence of prosperity. At Creston, and many other stations, I noticed that there is no protection whatever from the railway; the line is unfenced, and the train runs through the town as openly as a coach would; there is generally a rough board put up here and there with the words, crudely painted on them, "Look out for the cars!" We were due at Council Bluffs the next morning (December 3rd) at 7.23, but we arrived some half-hour late. Council Bluffs Station is four miles from Omaha Station, but the towns adjoin. The former has a population of over 35,000, and the latter of over 110,000. They are divided by the great Missouri River, which is crossed by two bridges, one being 2,750 feet long, and the other 2,920 feet long. Having had breakfast at the station, I went up to the town by the "motor," that is, the electrical tram-car. The motor cars, like the railway cars, are heated. I noticed a large number of detached wooden cottages, "standing in their own grounds," of about one-eighth of an acre, and I learned that these are owned by labourers. Mr. Day, an agent there, told me that the cottage would cost 500 dollars, and the land 400 dollars, i.e., £100 for the house, and £80 for the land. An eighth of an acre for £80 would be £640 per acre, and this quite out in the suburbs; and I was told that good business blocks in the town itself would fetch £32,000 (not dollars, but pounds) per acre. In the large cities, such as New York, Chicago, etc., prices in the principal streets would compare with prices in the City of London. Returning to the station, I joined the express train, and crossing the Missouri River to Omaha, we proceeded west. The river was frozen at its sides, and presented no attractions worth notice. On we go through hundreds of fields of maize, always called "corn" in America; other grain crops, such as wheat, etc., are called by their own names, but the crop known only as "corn" in America is maize. The rich clusters of corn are gathered, and the stalks, something in appearance between a wheat stalk and a sugar cane, are left standing for the cattle to pick over. Forty years ago this part was uninhabited by white men, and was the home of countless buffaloes; now these animals are extirpated, and everywhere we see nothing, for mile upon mile, but corn, corn, corn. One of my fellow travellers was Mr. H.C. Jacobs, of Chicago, whose father-in-law was one of the pioneers, and who gave me much information. The next day (December 4th), we traverse the great rolling prairies of Nebraska, and see many herds of horses and cattle, and here and there ranch homes and cowboys.
Having run through Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska, we commence the State of Wyoming as we pull up at the City of Cheyenne, where, in the far distance, we see, with its peaks well clothed in snow, the grand range of the Rocky Mountains. Soon after leaving Cheyenne, we commence the ascent of the Rockies—not, of course, the actual summit range itself, but the foot hills and high lands stretching away from, and forming part of it—and as we climb the ascent terminating at Sherman, where we have gained an elevation of 8,247 feet, we pass through very wild, grand scenery. At this altitude we look down upon floating clouds, and see in the distance Long's Peak, 14,000 feet high, towering above them. All along, at intervals, are portable fences, placed to catch the snow as it drifts, to prevent it blocking the line; and also what are called snow sheds, which are rough timber tunnels built up to protect the rails from the great drifts arising out of heavy snowstorms. At the highest point is a pyramid, commemorating a certain Mr. Oakes Ames, which looked 20 feet high and very near the line; it is however, 75 feet high and half-a-mile off. The air is so rarefied that distances are most deceiving.