The Truth About America

by Edward Money

I had taken my passage home across the Atlantic in one of the Monarch line of steamers, and not caring to halt en route, or linger in New York, I timed my departure from Colorado with no day to spare. At Denver I took a rail-ticket through to New York, and did the distance, about 1700 miles, in eighty-four hours, halting nowhere except the necessary time to make connection at the principal stations between the incoming and outgoing trains. I have not much to say as to this my last journey in the States, still I will briefly describe the country passed through. Nebraska was the first state after leaving Colorado. This, again, like Texas and Wyoming, is a vast country of grassy plains, on which many thousands of cattle are reared. The endless plains, though rich in grass, look desolate, owing to the total absence of trees, except in the vicinity of towns, where some attempt has been made to remedy the want. It is a very thinly inhabited state; for miles and miles, as we swiftly passed on, not a soul could be seen. The rail line through it, from west to east, is about 480 miles long.

Iowa was the next, and beyond that Illinois. They are much alike, so I will describe them together. They are very rich pastoral countries, with large towns, and abound in farms. The scenery in many parts is beautiful, and the general outlook very English. Iowa, by the rail, is about 320 miles across, Illinois about 180 miles.

On the western boundary of Illinois, joining Indiana, and on the southern shore of Lake Michigan, stands the wonderful city of Chicago: wonderful in its quick growth, and wonderful in the way the ravages of the great fire there have been replaced. I was necessarily, by the time-table of the trains, delayed there some six hours, so I walked through the town. It is a beautiful one, not equal in that respect to San Francisco, but still far ahead of New York. Like both the said cities, Chicago is overrun with tram-cars, and like them also other wheel-vehicles are in the minority. Its position on the shore of that vast lake, and on the direct line of rail, is a commanding one for all purposes of trade and commerce, and doubtless to this, in a great measure, may its quick growth be attributed. Formerly, before the fire, it was, I believe, nearly all wood, now the greater part is brick and stone. It is built on the plan of all American towns, in square blocks, so that the streets, which are wide, all run at right angles to each other. It boasts many very handsome buildings, and the display in the shop windows of huge plate glass quite equals London, or Paris either. I was very glad of the six hours' delay, which enabled me to see this magnificent city. Lake Michigan was the first sight I had of those five vast sheets of fresh water, all joining together, which is such a unique feature in North America. As I stood on the shore and saw the boundless waters before me, it was difficult to realize that I gazed on a lake and not on the ocean.

I saw a number of pretty faces at Chicago, and I then first began to think what I should say in this book about the beauty of women in the States. In no country on earth, my experience teaches me, is beauty as common as in Great Britain. Every fourth young girl you meet here, be it in Ireland, England, Scotland, or Wales, has some pretensions to good looks. Perhaps, anyway in my opinion, the claim for beauty as regards the four countries follows in the order in which I have named them. In America, on the contrary, beauty is not sown broadcast through the land, but then to make up for this, when it is found it is very perfect. Some American girls and women are extremely handsome, but in America, far more than in Europe, beauty clings to the upper classes. One point further; I doubt if beauty is as lasting on the other side of the Atlantic as it is here. I believe the high temperature the rooms are kept at with stoves during the severe cold of winter is, to some extent, answerable for this, and the extremes of temperature in summer and winter are doubtless another cause.

While perambulating Chicago, being a stranger, I had to ask my way, and I was then struck, as I had been both in New York and San Francisco, how much better the place desired is pointed out in London. Say you want to find Bond Street and ask the way. If anywhere in the vicinity, the answer is, "Second to the right, first to the left, and first again to the left," or as it may be, and following such a direction is not difficult. Having found Bond Street, the houses are all numbered, and so you easily get to the one you want.

Say in any American city there is a street called Montgomery Street and you ask your way there. The answer is, "On Tenth, between Market and Cheese," and the interrogated passes on. You think the man is laughing at you, are angry, and ask again. A woman this time, the men all seem in such a woful hurry. Again the same answer, "On Tenth, between Market and Cheese." You are bewildered. Can this be a stereotyped joke? You essay a third time, result the same. But the third person you ask is perhaps more considerate, and, seeing your look of astonishment, and divining you are a Britisher, he deigns to explain. After listening a few minutes, you find that the said answer should read, "Out of Tenth Street, between Market Street and Cheese Street;" and adds the interrogated, "But, you see, we've no time to spare in this city, and so answer as short as we can; besides every one knows 'Cheese' means Cheese Street."

Well, anyhow, you now know that Montgomery Street, which you seek, leads out of Tenth Street, and is between Market Street and Cheese Street. The first thing, of course, is to find Tenth Street. You ask your way there. The same answer in kind, though not in words, "On Lawrence, between Nine and Eleven." You do not now think it is a joke, and though confused, determined to see where it will end, you ask again for Lawrence Street. This time you are lucky, Lawrence Street abuts on the street you are in, which is Eighth Street, and the answer is, "Three blocks on." You have learnt before this that all American towns are built in blocks, the streets running between. So "three blocks on" is tantamout to "four turnings on," and thus you easily find Lawrence Street. If you have not forgotten, which you likely enough have, the previous directions, you have now to seek Tenth, which leads out of Lawrence Street. Walking down Lawrence Street, you come to Ninth Street, running off at right angles, so Tenth Street is the next turning, and down that, between Market Street and Cheese Street, as told, you find the street you want, viz. Montgomery Street.

The above, to read, sounds puzzling, but, believe me, it is no exaggeration. You soon get accustomed to the word "street" being omitted, but as you don't know the town at all, to be told the street you ask for leads out of another, with the names of the streets on either side, does not help you much. Why such a roundabout mode of direction is adopted, and it holds all over the States, I never could understand. It may answer for those who know the town more or less, but an outsider it helps but little.