A Boy's Voyage Round the World

by Samuel Smiles

The consumption of ice in the States is enormous. Every one takes ice in their water, in winter as well as in summer. Even the commonest sort of people consume it largely; and they send round to the store for ten cents' worth of ice, just as our people send round to the nearest public for six penny worth of beer. I have heard Americans who have been in London complain of the scarcity of ice with us, and the parsimonious way in which it is used. But then we have not the enormous natural stores of ice close to our doors, as they have at Chicago and many other of the large American towns.

Meanwhile we have skirted the shores of the lake, and shot into the country, the snow lying deep in the fields, in some places quite covering the tops of the fences. After passing through a rather thickly-wooded country, we came to Michigan city, which stands close to the lake, with a river flowing past it, on which large barges piled high with timber are now completely frozen up. What a pretty place this Michigan must be in summer time, when the trees which line the streets, and all the shady gardens about it, are clad in green. Even now the town has a brisk, cheerful look. The sleighs are running merrily over the snow, and the omnibuses glide smoothly along the streets on their "runners."

Taking one last look of the great inland sea, we struck across the broad peninsula formed by Lake Michigan on one side and Lake Huron on the other, to the town of Detroit. The country was very thickly wooded in some places,—apparently the remains of the old primeval forest. Yet there were towns and villages at frequent intervals along the route. The deer have not yet been extirpated, for often and again I saw their tracks in the snow along the banks of the railway.

At one part of the road the speed of the train slackened, and the engine moved along slowly, whistling as it went. What was wrong? I got out on to the platform to see. We soon came up to a smashed train; frames of cars, wrecks of cases, wheels, axles, and débris, lying promiscuously tumbled together. I asked the conductor what had happened? He answered quite coolly, "Guess the express ran into the goods train!" It looked very much like it!

In the course of the day we passed several small manufacturing towns. It seemed so odd, when we appeared as if travelling through the back woods, to see above the trees, not far off, a tall red chimney, where not long before we had passed the track of the wild deer. There was one very large manufactory—so large that it had a special branch to itself connecting it with the main track—at a place called Kalamazoo, reminding one of Red Indians and war trails over this ground not so very long ago. The town of Kalamazoo itself is a large and busy place: who knows but that it may contain the embryo of some future Leeds or Manchester?

It was dark when the train reached Detroit, where we had to cross the river which runs between Lake St. Clair and Lake Erie by ferry-boat into Canada. The street being dark, I missed my way, and at last found myself on the edge of the water when I least expected it. I got on board just as the last bell was sounding before the boat put off from the quay. I then had my baggage checked on to Niagara, a custom-house officer on board marking all the pieces intended only to pass through Canada, thereby avoiding examination. All the arrangements of the American railways with respect to luggage seem to me excellent, and calculated greatly to promote the convenience of the travelling public.

We were not more than a quarter of an hour on board the ferry-boat, during which I found time to lay in a good supper in the splendid saloon occupying the upper story of the vessel. Arrived at the Canadian side, there was a general rush to the train; and the carriages were soon filled. There were great complaints amongst some of the passengers that the Pullman's cars were all full, and that no beds were to be had; there being usually a considerable run upon these convenient berths, especially in the depth of winter.

My next neighbour during the night was a very pleasant gentleman—an American. I must here confess to the agreeable disappointment I have experienced with respect to the Americans I have hitherto come in contact with. I have as yet met with no specimens of the typical Yankee depicted by satirists and novelists. In my innocence I expected to be asked in the cars such questions as "I guess you're a Britisher, Sir?" "Where do you come from, Stranger?" "Where are you going to, Sir?" "What are you going to do when you get there?" and such like. It is true that at San Francisco I encountered a few of such questions, but the persons who put them were for the most part only hotel touters. Among the Americans of about my own condition with whom I travelled, I met with nothing but politeness and civility. I will go further, and say that the generality of Americans are more ready to volunteer a kindness than is usual in England. They are always ready to answer a question, to offer a paper, to share a rug, or perhaps tender a cigar. They are generally easy in manner, yet unobtrusive. I will also add, that so far as my experience goes, the average intelligence of young men in America is considerably higher than it is in England. They are better educated and better informed; and I met few or none who were not able to enter into any topic of general conversation, and pursue it pleasantly.

I saw but little of Canada, for I passed through what is called the "London district" of it in the night. It was about four in the morning when the train reached the suspension bridge which crosses from Canada into the States, about a mile and a half below the Falls of Niagara. We were soon upon the bridge,—a light, airy-looking structure, made principally of strong wire,—and I was out upon the carriage platform, looking down into the gorge below. It was bright moonlight, so that I could see well about me. There were the snow-covered cliffs on either side, and the wide rift between them two hundred and fifty feet deep, in the bottom of which ran the river at a speed of about thirty miles an hour. It almost made the head dizzy to look down. But we were soon across the bridge, and on solid land again. We were already within hearing of the great roar of the Falls, not unlike the sound of an express train coming along the track a little distance of. Shortly after, we reached our terminus and its adjoining hotel, in which for a time I forgot the Falls and everything else in a sound sleep.

The first thing that struck me on wakening was the loud continuous roar near at hand. I was soon up and out, and on my way to the Falls, seated in a grand sleigh drawn by a pair of fine black horses. Remember it was the dead of winter, the fifteenth of February, not by any means the time of the year for going about sight-seeing; and yet I fancy the sight of Niagara in mid-winter must be quite as astonishing, and perhaps even more picturesque, than at any other season.