“Beauties” brought over from all parts of the world black, white and yellow, are exposed in a large hall, in stalls behind a railing, just like wild beasts. One of the prettiest girls, dressed in our Russian national costume, appeared to be a Polish Jewess, who had taken the first prize in a recent “Beauty Competition.”
A picture of “Nana,” the heroine of Zola’s last novel, painted by Soukharowski (a Russian painter), is exhibited in Chicago, and much is made of that canvas.
We went to see a Museum of wax-figures, and saw among other curiosities, a big giant and a negress dwarf with no arms, who played the drum with her toes, and wrote her autograph holding a pen between her toes. Next to her a pretty white-skinned dwarf resembling a pretty wax-doll, attired in a beautiful evening dress, was exhibited, who looked with disdain, mixed with jealousy, at her dusky companion who attracted more attention than her dainty little person. In the adjoining room a gipsy fortune-teller told people’s future through examination of the palms of their hands. I wanted my hand read and asked Mr. Shaniavski to accompany me to her booth. From the very beginning the old gipsy woman made formidable mistakes, taking Mr. Shaniavski for my husband. Nevertheless she predicted a lot of charming things to me, and I left her booth with a smiling face. After dinner we went to a Venetian Feast organised on the central basin of Michigan Lake, which was transformed into a Venetian canal. Gondolas floated on the lake, lit up by Chinese lanterns.
Chicago is a dirty, noisy commercial town, and looks a tremendously busy place. The smoke of the factories blacken the sky; the soot stains the sparrows, making them look quite black. We walked through the broad, straight streets of the Great Grey City, stopping before the shop windows. We saw a shop bearing the inscription “Food and dog’s medicine.” In a hair-dressing shop a woman was sitting on a high seat with her back to the window with wonderfully splendid hair falling down to the ground. We entered the shop to see if the woman’s face corresponded to her beautiful golden hair, but, alas, she appeared to be very unattractive. Her hair served as advertisement for a patent elixir to make the hair grow. How people have sometimes to earn their bread and butter.
The heat is intense. Everybody grumbled at the weather being so hot. The head-porter of our hotel, who is a grand personage, too languid to talk, in order not to be obliged to answer a hundred times a day to the same complaint of the visitors about the heat, “Awfully hot, isn’t it?” stuck a placard over the entrance door saying, “Yes, it is very warm to-day!”
Mme. Beurgier couldn’t sleep for the heat, and went one night for a stroll on the outskirts of Michigan Common. She saw heaps of rags here and there on the grass; she touched one of them with her foot, and oh, what a jump she gave when from the rags strange and somewhat terrifying sounds proceeded, that indicated a drunken sleep. It appeared that the whole place swarmed with houseless vagrants, evidently prepared to camp out-of-doors till morning.
During our four days’ stay at Chicago there had been three awful accidents at the Exhibition. First: A collision between two steamboats on the lake. We were crossing the bridge at that moment and saw a man extracted from the water with broken legs. Second: A terrible fire had broken out in the very centre of the Exhibition. An immense building was burnt to the ground. Dr. Pokrovski saw people jumping down from the eighteenth storey and killed on the spot. Third: A captive-balloon had burst, causing the death of all the passengers.
2nd July.—We left Chicago this morning. Our train rolls rapidly towards San Francisco. We have six days of railway. The temperature being very hot, everyone put himself at his ease; my travelling-companions also took off their coats—American fashion. We drink iced-water the whole day to refresh ourselves. Our “Johnny” lay full stretched on the sofa in the private saloon; Mme. Beurgier tried to make him take a more correct attitude, but to make remarks to the darkie was as fruitless as to sponge his nigger face white. He paid no attention whatever to her reproofs and continued his dolce far niente, munching an apple with beautiful white teeth.
Our train rolls on full speed. We are tossed about as on the sea. “Johnny” came to make our beds early in the evening. We had to lie down directly, for when the beds were made, there was no place to sit down.
3rd July.—The railway line is uninteresting and monotonous and the heat something dreadful. At five o’clock dinner was served in the restaurant-car, consisting of broth and roast beef surrounded by slices of oranges.