One Hundred and Seventh Day.
Private House,
La Porte, Indiana,
August Twenty-sixth.
Was compelled to avail myself of livery accommodations in order to meet my evening engagement at La Porte. Rode in a hack to South Bend, and finally reached my destination by way of the Michigan Central and Southern Indiana roads. My advance agent, Babcock, met me at the station, and I accompanied him to the home of a Mr. Munday, who I discovered was the father of an old fellow-prisoner at "Libby."
I was delighted with the situation and appearance of the town. It rises on the border of a beautiful and fruitful prairie, its northern end bounded by a chain of seven lakes which make an ideal resort in summer, and is at a sufficient distance from the great body of water which dips down into that corner of the State, to enjoy a comparatively mild climate. Its population is about 8,000, of which a good share is employed in the foundries, machine shops and mills that make up its business activity. The younger element is provided for in good schools, and that luxury of modern communities—the public library—is zealously supported. On a line with it, as a free and instructive institution, the Natural History Association, founded in 1863, holds an honored place, and unlike most societies of a similar character has succeeded in making its researches of interest. In fact for its size the city has made great progress in literary and educational directions.
One Hundred and Eighth Day.
Jewell House,
Michigan City, Indiana,
August Twenty-seventh.
After my lecture of the previous evening at La Porte, I took the first train to this city—emphatically the City of Sand. Time and winds have raised great hills of sand on every side, and from their crests one can look off for miles over the lake, getting perhaps a deeper impression of its vastness than from a less monotonous lookout.
These sand dunes are supposed by some to be caused by a peculiar meteorological phenomena of currents and counter-currents acting vertically instead of horizontally. Whatever the cause, they have made Indiana's only port of entry a place of such striking peculiarity, that, once seen, I doubt if it would ever be forgotten.