They soon passed Fort McHenry, forever glorified by the stubborn defense that has made “The Star-Spangled Banner” our national song of victory, and North Point was pointed out to Davy as the spot where the British had once planned to land their attacking forces. The run to Charlestown was soon finished, and here Davy saw the sight of his life: a train, on the seventeen-mile railroad between Delaware City and Chesapeake Bay. As the first locomotive in the United States came from England in 1825, it may be believed that what Davy saw in 1834 would be almost as astonishing to people of to-day. A dozen vehicles that resembled old-fashioned coaches stood in line on the flat rails that formed the railroad, while an ungainly locomotive, with a smoke-stack nearly as large as the boiler, and with a flat-car behind, loaded with wood and barrels of water for use on the run, was blowing off steam and showing every sign of a desire to make a start. The locomotive looked much like the kind now used by threshing outfits.
Behold, then, Davy, seated upon the top of one of the coaches, as if on a diligence in the days of Claude Duval, intent upon every move:
“After a good deal of fuss we all got seated and moved slowly off, the engine wheezing as if she had the tizzick. By and by she began to take short breaths, and away we went with a blue streak after us.”
Soon after starting a team was sighted in the gathering darkness of the evening. When they saw the shower of sparks from the stack of the infernal machine that was coming towards them, the horses ran away with a right good will, upsetting the wagon, and scattering the freight along the way.
Let us now follow Davy’s own story of his visit. After the dinner on the boat, he went on deck, in time to see that a great display of flags was taking place on board. When he asked the reason, the captain told him that it was to be a signal that Crockett was coming, given on account of the desire of the Philadelphia people to meet him at the wharf.
“We went on till we came in sight of the city,” says Davy’s account, “and as we drew near to the wharf I saw the whole face of the earth covered with people, all anxiously looking on towards the boat. The captain and myself were standing on the bow deck. He pointed his finger at me, and people slung their hats and huzzaed for Colonel Crockett. It struck me with astonishment to hear a strange people huzzaing for me, and made me feel sort of queer. But I had to meet it, and so I stepped on to the wharf, where the folks came crowding around me, saying, ‘Give me the hand of an honest man.’ I did not know what all this meant; but some gentlemen took hold of me, and, pressing through the crowd, put me into an elegant barouche, drawn by four fine horses. They then told me to bow to the people; I did so, and with much difficulty we moved off. The streets were crowded to a great distance, and the windows full of people, looking out, I supposed, to see the wild man. I thought I would rather be in the wilderness, with my gun and my dogs, than to be attracting all that fuss. I had never seen the like before, and did not know exactly what to say or do. After some time we reached the United States Hotel, in Chestnut Street.”
The crowd having followed his carriage to the hotel, Davy at last showed himself upon the balcony front, bowing repeatedly with hat in hand, as we have seen Taft and Roosevelt do upon so many occasions, in these days of Presidential travel. At the last he was constrained to speak a few words of thanks, in which he recognized the existence of a state of high excitement in political affairs, which he wished to make no worse. He promised to speak again at one o’clock the next afternoon, and then withdrew. That night, as he lay restless in a strange place, he looked forward to the promised speech with much doubt and fear, but at last consoled himself by trusting to the good luck that had already got him “through many a scrape before.”
The next morning Judge Baldwin, Judge Hemphill, John Sergeant, and others, called upon Davy, and afterwards he was invited to visit the Fairmount waterworks, then the pride of the whole State. He was astonished at the volume of water lifted by a “few wheels,” but even more so by the lavish use of the supply. He says that such scrubbing of steps and even of pavements he had never seen, and he strongly suspected the housemaids of having web feet. The next place visited was the Mint, and the sight of real money, as he calls it, stirred him to comment upon the flood of paper then in circulation. The statement made to Davy that the workmen were too much accustomed to handling coin ever to think of stealing it, was a “poser.” He had thought that such constant temptation was the most powerful cause of crime. During the forenoon a visit was made to the Asylum for the Insane, whereat Davy thanked God for the bounty and humaneness of the city in thus providing for the unfortunates within its walls. When the round of the city had been made, the time for the promised speech had nearly arrived. He says that he had made set speeches in Congress, when all his colleagues were against him, and further:
“I had made stump speeches at home, in the face of all the little office-yelpers who were opposed to me; but indeed, when I got in sight of the Exchange, and saw the streets crowded, I ’most wished to take back my promise, but I was brought up by hearing a youngster say, as I passed, ‘Go ahead, Davy Crockett.’ I said to myself, ‘I have faced the enemy; these are friends. I have fronted the savage red man of the forest; these are civilized. I’ll keep cool, and let them have it.’”
Davy went to the Exchange, and in a few moments stood before that great crowd, bowing in response to the continued cheering that delayed the possibility of his being heard. He says there were five thousand people in front of the building; it was Philadelphia exalting to the skies the symbolism of its dislike and hatred of Andrew Jackson, personified in “the wild man from the West.” For half an hour Davy spoke to the immense audience, and for an hour afterwards stood upon the steps of the Exchange, shaking hands with eager admirers.