August Fourteenth.
On this day I passed a fine wheat-growing section in the valley of the Kalamazoo, whose richest part is probably near the Big Village—its namesake. This river, which drains Hillsdale, Kalamazoo, Calhoun and Allegan counties, and is navigable for forty miles above its mouth, has, I believe, more traffic than any one of the rivers of Michigan. Throughout its length of two hundred miles it flows through pine and oak forests, through the richest section of a State famed for its agricultural products, and like the Nile, if I may so compare the relics of a great people with those of one comparatively unknown, is looked down upon by the silent monuments of the past. To me the comparison is not unreasonable, for I consider the tumuli of those mound-builders scattered over the hills and valleys of America, worthy of as much interest and respect as the more splendid remnants of a higher civilization.
At this point the stream is still broad and picturesque. As to its name I am undecided. According to some it is a corruption of Ke-Kenemazoo, meaning "the boiling pot," and according to others of Kik-alamazoo, "the mirage river," because to the fanciful Indian the stones that jutted, dark and wet, out of the river-bed looked like otters. The village on its banks was settled in 1829, and after being known for two years by the name of its first settler, Bronson, became, in 1836, Kalamazoo. It is thoroughly alive, has a population of about 18,000, and its position as the half-way place between Detroit and Chicago adds considerably to its importance. I lectured here to a full house, being introduced by Major R. F. Judson, formerly of General Custer's staff, and bearing a high reputation as a soldier. Intercourse with one who had known the General so well, and who held him in such loyal regard, gave me a new insight into the life of
"That mighty man of war,
A lion in battle, and a child by the fireside."
Ninety-sixth Day.
Albion House,
Albion, Michigan,
August Fifteenth.
I came back to this place from Kalamazoo on the afternoon train and was met at the station by R. A. Daniels, who went with me to the hotel. The introduction at the Opera House where I lectured in the evening was made by Captain Rienzi Loud. When I concluded, I found that the good old custom of "passing round the hat" had not yet lost favor, for two gentlemen, having furnished the "hat," assumed the role of collectors and the "Fund" was within a very short time substantially increased. When this ceremony was over a man in the audience rose and said: "Captain Glazier! I came in after the hat was passed, but I want to give something toward the 'Monument;'" and suiting the action to the word he made his contribution. The whole ceremony was so suggestive of a certain little church up in St. Lawrence County, New York, where the same custom prevails on Sundays, that I came very near fancying myself the parson, and if some of my comrades had not come up immediately and given me a hearty greeting, I might have been guilty of pronouncing a benediction!
As it was quite late when I reached this point, having made twenty-five miles since ten o'clock, there was very little time for sightseeing, but I learned that here was the seat of Ames College, a thriving Methodist institution admitting both men and women, and proudly referred to by the people of Albion.