COUNTRY ROAD IN ILLINOIS.
One hundred and Thirtieth Day.
Robertson House,
Joliet, Illinois.
September Eighteenth.
Had Paul brought out at eight o'clock. As soon as he was saddled at Richton the man who attended to him threw the rein over the neck of the horse, and a moment later he made his appearance unaccompanied in front of the Rohmer House. This being an undoubted sign of his anxiety to be off, I mounted at once and we were soon lessening the distance to Joliet, our evening destination, twenty-one miles away.
Was all day again on Grand Prairie, which may give some idea of this the greatest and truly the grandest prairie yet passed on my route. Its proximity to Chicago is doubtless one of the chief causes of the high winds for which the "Windy City" is noted; and if Chicago could, she would gladly change her inconvenient environment.
At Lenox I halted for dinner, reaching Joliet at four P. M. In riding through Jefferson street, I was met by Babcock who seemed much surprised at my early arrival. Notwithstanding the fact that "Rip Van Winkle" was being played at the opera house, Robert McWade, a young actor of some prominence, taking the leading rôle, I found a fair audience awaiting me at Werner Hall in the evening, which proved that interest was still felt in the Custer Monument movement.
One hundred and Thirty-first Day.
Hopkins House,
Morris, Illinois,
September Nineteenth.
On calling for my bill at the Robertson House, Joliet, in the morning, Mr. Conklin the proprietor, declined to accept any pay for my accommodations, and when I insisted, said he wished the pleasure of making me his guest during my stay. I did not get a very early start, as a family by the name of Horner, upon hearing of my arrival, called at the hotel and at their solicitation I made them a short visit. They knew of my journey and interest in the Custer Association, and being patriotic made this their reason for wishing to meet me. Their friendliness was but another proof of the hospitality of the people of Joliet, among whom I had come the day before as a comparative stranger, but whom I left with the kindliest of feeling.
Before leaving, Mr. Conklin suggested that I ride along the tow-path of the Michigan Canal from Joliet to Chanahon, and I followed his advice, having dinner at the latter place. It happened that the innkeeper was well supplied with sweet cider and I helped him to dispose of it by drinking the contents of six well-filled glasses. Beyond Chanahon, on the Illinois River, I borrowed a hook and line of a farmer who was fishing and caught twenty-three perch in half an hour.