The weather this morning was very cold and windy. The steamer from Chicago landed at the wharf at about 9 o’clock this morning, but, owing to the rough state of the lake, she had not lain at the wharf over two or three minutes before she parted her large hawser, and immediately left for Chicago, without her passengers.
At about ten o’clock in the evening, the lake having become comparatively smooth, the steamer Detroit came in. We soon after got aboard and were on our way for Chicago.
This was an old vessel and had a very ungentlemanly list of officers.
It was not until after a long parley with the steward and captain, that we were successful in obtaining any refreshments. Immediately after supper, I lay down and soon fell asleep, and, on awaking the next morning, I found our boat moored at the wharf in Chicago. The past two days had been our first really bitter experience. Much of the same as bad or worse was in store for us.
Wednesday, April 25.
Chicago at that time was a comparatively small city of about 25,000 inhabitants.
The Michigan and Illinois Canal from Lake Michigan at Chicago to the Illinois River at La Salle, which had been under construction for twelve years or more, had been finished the year previous, and was open for traffic.
We left Chicago at ten o’clock in the morning on a packet by the above mentioned canal for La Salle, a point situated at the head of navigation on the Illinois River.
The weather was fine and we found this to be a delightful mode of travel, but not very expeditious. The packet was drawn by mules or horses traveling on the tow-path.
The passengers had a good view of the broad Illinois prairies, as they passed leisurely through the country. A large percentage of those prairies were then unbroken and were the native home of the prairie hen. From Chicago westward the country is so nearly level that there are no locks in the canal for twenty-five miles.