Upon leaving La Salle at three o'clock in the afternoon, I was told that I would have no difficulty in securing accommodations for myself and horse at Hollowayville, so, with the assurance of finding everything lovely here, I jogged along over the intervening twelve miles at my leisure.
My feelings can better be imagined than described when, on my arrival at the little hamlet, I was looked upon with suspicion. The simple-minded inhabitants hinted that I might possibly be a "highwayman" or a "horse thief," or, for aught they knew, one of the James or Younger brothers. These desperadoes were then exciting the people on both sides of the Mississippi and my equipment, set off with high top boots and gauntlets, with the peculiar trappings of my horse, only made matters worse.
Finding it impossible to secure lodging in the village, I rode on into the country, stopping at a farm house which looked inviting. I entered the front yard slowly and with dignity to dispel the horse thief suspicion. The farmer's daughter, a young girl of seventeen or eighteen years, and a few farm hands, stood about, of whom I asked if the master of the place was at home. The girl took me within, and Monsieur and Madame Croisant received me. They were both in bed, ill, but looking quite comfortable with their heads pointing in different directions. They carried on a lively conversation in French, the daughter interpreting, and in conclusion, after assuring them that I was a harmless person, very tired and hungry, they decided, if the clergyman of the place thought it safe, that I might stay with them. The dominie was called, looked me over a few minutes, cross-questioned me, and approved.
My room that night was unique in more ways than one and would have been punishment enough for Jesse James himself.
When I retired I detected a strong odor in the room and found it due to a collection of sabots, or wooden shoes, seemingly centuries old, which were arranged in a row under my bed. What to do with them was a question, as, under the circumstances, I did not think it best to tamper with the feelings of my host and hostess. As my room was on the ground floor, I decided to place the sabots carefully outside under the window and take them in in the morning before the family was up. Unfortunately it rained and I overslept, so the shoes were discovered full of water before I appeared. However, nothing was said and I ate my breakfast in peace, the good people probably thanking their stars that they and their house had not been robbed.
Before leaving in the morning the La Salle County Press was handed me by Miss Croisant, in which I read the following flattering notice of my lecture in that city and which in some measure compensated for my unpleasant reception at Hollowayville:
"We have not often met with a more agreeable and pleasant gentleman than Captain Willard Glazier, who entertained a very respectable number of our citizens at Opera Hall on Saturday evening by delivering a lecture on 'Echoes from the Revolution.' The captain has a fine voice and his manner of delivery is decidedly interesting, while his language is eloquent and fascinating. His description of the battles of the Revolution, and the heroes who took part in them, from the engagement on the little green at Lexington down to the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, was grand indeed, and was received with frequent and enthusiastic applause. In conclusion he referred in an eloquent and touching manner to the 'Boys in Blue,' who took part in the late war for the Union, and all retired from the hall feeling that the evening had been spent in an agreeable and profitable manner.
"Captain Glazier served under Generals Kilpatrick and Custer during the late war, since which time he has devoted much labor to writing and is now making the attempt to cross the continent from Boston to San Francisco on horseback, for the purpose of collecting material for another work. He left Boston the early part of May, and will endeavor to reach the Sacramento Valley before the fall of the deep snow. His horse, Paul Revere, is a magnificent animal, black as a raven, with the exception of four white feet. He was bred in Kentucky of Black Hawk stock, has turned a mile in 2.33, but owing to his inclination to run away on certain occasions, was not considered a safe horse for the track. The captain, however, has broken him to the saddle, and also convinced him that running away is foolish business; consequently, he and the captain have become fast friends, and with Paul for his only companion, the gallant cavalryman proposes to cross the continent. Success attend him!"
One Hundred and Thirty-seventh Day.
Ellsworth House,
Wyanet, Illinois,
September Twenty-fifth.
The equinoctial storms which had been raging since I left Ottawa, were, for a few days at least, at an end, and a bright autumn sun greeted me every morning as I rode onward. Rich cornfields stretched away on either side of the road, their monotony broken here and there by fine apple and peach orchards just coming into their glory. Another characteristic of Illinois—fine stock farms—were also noticeable, and thus for another stage of fourteen miles, surrounded by evidences of fertility and thrift, I passed on, reaching Wyanet early in the evening.