But the king of savages—the New Zealander—has the fairest island, in the most favored clime, taken from him, and civilization forced upon him.
There is no getting away from this civilization now. But I am thankful to say that I was at San Francisco before it arrived there. When out shooting I saw the fresh foot-prints of a grizzly bear, and did not know how far the gentleman might have been from me at that moment. Now, I should like to know how far you would have to travel, and how much you would have to spend, before you could experience the same delightful sensation.
I have seen real Indians with real bows and arrows, in Vancouver’s Island; and the place where I then saw them, now has become the head-quarters of the Pacific squadron; and the Indians, instead of flattening their heads, no doubt have put on the Grecian bend. Where is all this to stop?
It was pointed out to me that most of the telegraph-posts were struck by lightning; no wonder; for that king of natural forces, that for so many thousands of years has reigned supreme-splitting the granite rock, and shivering the mighty oak at his will—now to be brought into existence at the will of an apothecary boy, placed in two cups and locked up in a cupboard, and then made travel day and night, over hill and dale, and under the vast ocean, to carry messages at the bidding of man,—no wonder, I say, that he should try and knock the whole concern into a cocked hat!
“Boonsboro! twenty minutes for dinner!!” Now, then, we shall have something in keeping with the prairie,—I suppose a deer roasted on a stake. Nothing of the sort. I went into a nice dining-room; saw a quantity of pretty girls, or rather young ladies, with short sleeves and low dresses. “Soup, sir! chicken, sir! peas, sir!” The station at Rugby is nothing to it. After twenty minutes of capital feeding, we heard, “all aboard! all aboard!” and as we left, the father of these young ladies was standing at the door, and obliged us by taking half-a-dollar, a great improvement on the English system, where, on asking the waiter for your bill, he asks: “What ’ave you ’ad?” and begins to add accordingly. The next station was Jefferson, 1,398 miles from Quebec. Here the boxes were again thrown out, and the train left for San Francisco. The boxes were left at the station, and we drove up to the hotel, about half-a-mile from the station. As this was Saturday, July 31st, we had exactly a week to select a site and to build an observatory—mount the telescope and take preliminary observations. The American parties were several weeks at their station before the day of the eclipse, and found it not too long to prepare.
Jefferson city is three years old, has about eight thousand inhabitants, and looks a thriving place. The next day, after church, Mr. Douglas and I rode across the prairie to a station situated about eight miles on the railway from Jefferson. As it was nearer to the central line of eclipse, we wanted to see if it would do for the site of our observatory.
I forgot to mention that the day before I left Quebec, in pulling off my boot I broke the tendon of the plantaris muscle, which made me quite lame. However, the six days’ comparative rest made it much better, but still it was far from well.
We started for our ride across the prairie about two o’clock, and reached the station in about an hour and a-half. We crossed several streams and some marshy ground, and started several prairie chickens. After examining the place, and finding that it would be very inconvenient to get the material there, we thought that it would be better to remain at Jefferson, and we mounted to return. After we had left some time, and as I was suffering from my leg, and could not ride fast, I persuaded Mr. Douglas to ride on, and get back before sunset to keep an appointment with a carpenter, and not to mind me, as I could ride slowly back. He very reluctantly did so, and when I was left alone, I felt quite at home, steering my horse across the boundless prairie by the setting sun. Now, my horse had crossed many streams, and soft wet places in going out, so I took it for granted that he knew more about the prairie than I did, and would not allow me to get into difficulties, and consequently steered a straight course for that point of the compass in the direction of Jefferson. The sun had just touched the horizon. I was crossing some marshy ground with reeds up to my shoulders, when I saw my horse’s nostrils distended, and his ears forward. I immediately put my helm down and brought him round, and just as I had done so, down he sank; I found myself up to my ankles in mud, and up to the calf of the leg in water; the horse was fixed immovable, no struggling, but snorting and dreadfully frightened. I have been in various situations of difficulty; but when I looked up and saw the tall reeds far above my head, and the sun setting, I must confess that I thought my case a serious one. I remembered the fate of a young French officer of the combined fleet that was at anchor at the entrance to the “Dardanelles,” who went on shore to shoot, and as he did not return that night, we landed in the morning to look for him, and not far from the ship, we found him in a bog up to his waist, his gun a few feet in front of him, and he quite dead. I knew that if a man once gets up to his waist, it would be impossible to extricate himself; however, when I dismounted I sank up to my knees, and although that was not the place to philosophize, still I did so, and I began to think what is the reason that a man in struggling works himself down, and I immediately discovered that on raising the heel I produced a vacuum, as the mud prevents either water or air getting underneath the foot, and so with 15 lbs. to the square inch, in addition to your weight you soon disappear. That being the case, I did not attempt to raise the foot, but moved it backwards and forwards in a horizontal position until I made the hole so big, that water got under the foot, when I could lift it up with the greatest ease. After extricating myself I tore down some reeds and made a platform round my horse, then I patted his neck, and spoke good-naturedly to him, and then went astern, and by means of his tail worked him backwards and forwards with a rolling kind of motion to let the water well round his feet, and lastly went ahead, passed the bridle over his neck, and sat down with it in my hands right ahead. Now, then, old boy, “up she rises,” the horse began to struggle, I kept the head-rope taut, and he was freeing himself bravely. If I let go the bridle too soon, he would go back; if I held on too long, he would be upon me, and not only kill me but bury me, so at the critical moment I let go, and rolled over and over amongst the reeds, and the horse floundered past me. When I got on my feet no horse was to be seen, but only the tops of the reeds moving as he was making his way out. I thought I had not improved my situation much, for with my leg I could not walk a mile, and, of course, the horse had shaped his course for the stable. However, when I emerged from the reeds, I saw the dear old fellow standing as still as if he were in his stable. But now came another difficulty with my lame leg, I could not put a foot into the stirrup, perhaps he might have been in a circus and taught to lay down, so I began kicking his forelegs and lifting up one and then the other—but no—he had no idea of it: then I thought I would lash his feet together with the bridle and throw him down, but there might be some difficulty in my remaining on his back when he floundered to get up, well, if the worst comes to the worst, I will lash myself to his tail and make him tow me home; but an idea struck me, I lengthened the near stirrup to about a foot and a-half of the ground, and then lengthened the other and brought it over on the same side, and here I had a nice little ladder to walk up which I did, and then knelt on the saddle and dropped into my seat. I could not help shaking hands with myself, and patting my steed on the neck, I then commenced my journey home, which I reached just before dark.
