FOUR DAYS AT ROCHESTER.
Anticipating rain during the forenoon and fearing that my journey might be interrupted in consequence, I started at an early hour on the morning of June eighth from Fairport, and riding at a brisk pace came into Rochester at eleven o'clock.
Just before reaching the city, a halt was made at a little hamlet, two or three miles out, for the purpose of treating Paul's back. Heretofore the necessity of meeting my lecture appointments along the route had given me no opportunity to attend to the painful bruise, although I had been studying the various modes of treatment recommended by veterinary surgeons from the time I left Boston until now. The peculiar nature of my journey gave me an excellent opportunity to follow this especial course, and I felt confident of my ability to do all that was possible for my faithful horse, yet at every stopping-place some kindly disposed admirer of the horse had some favorite prescription which he had found a never-failing cure for the particular affliction that daily confronted me. The enterprising little hamlet in question had its famed savant, who thought it would be highly imprudent of me to proceed farther without his advice—and a bottle of his "Seven-Sealed Wonder."
Anxious to make Rochester at the earliest moment possible, I had no time to discuss the merits of this great elixir, so, noting the price on the face of the bottle, I handed this modest disciple of Æsculapius the amount due, although he generously protested, and congratulating myself upon being the most highly favored traveller between Boston and San Francisco, rode away.
On a hill just beyond the village and well out of sight, I came upon an old barn standing to the left of the road, on whose front I noticed a huge door with a knothole in the centre. Now was my opportunity for unsealing the "Wonder." In an instant I brought Paul to a standstill and rising in the saddle, tried my luck. The "Wonder" fell short of the mark, but it met a resistance from the old door which effectually tested its powers, and in my humble opinion placed the good doctor high up in his profession. This momentary diversion over, I again resumed the march, vowing that this would be my last experiment with "sealed wonders" and that hereafter I would confine my treatment to battling Paul's back with warm water and castile soap, whose virtue I had learned in the cavalry service during the war.
Found that the Rochester papers had been discussing my military record before my arrival, and that the Express and Sunday Morning Times had upheld my cause against the Union, which had ventured some falsehoods on the ground that my "youthful appearance" belied my experience as a soldier. With this pleasant criticism came another greeting from the city press. It had been announced that I would probably arrive at the Osburn House at four in the afternoon, hence it was not strange that my sudden appearance at an earlier hour caused some surprise and led to the impression that I had come forward by rail, and that my horseback journey was possibly not an entirely genuine affair. I may add that it had not occurred to me that my trip across country was of sufficient importance to warrant any criticism upon my methods so long as I met my lecture appointments promptly. The sharp comment had no more serious result than that of increasing the lecture receipts in the cities which followed.
My tenth lecture was delivered in Corinthian Hall, at the usual hour in the evening, the introduction being made by Colonel J. A. Reynolds.
Next day, June ninth, gave me an opportunity to look up the familiar places and to note the changes that had occurred since my last visit to the city. The cleanliness and beauty of the streets, now in their summer glory of tree and flower, made such a tour of inspection anything but unpleasant.
East avenue, where the "flour and coal kings" are at home, is an attractive place in which to see individual taste carried out in architecture and horticulture. Down town, where the "kings" are at work, there is a brisk activity which pervades everything, like an unending accompaniment to the Falls, whose sounds always mingle with those of the busy life around them. Perhaps it was this continual encouragement from the river, offered to her early pioneers, that has given Rochester such a notable career and made her the metropolis of the Genesee Valley: for with that first mill-wheel set into the stream by old "Indian Allen," the faithful waters have kept up a continual flow of good fortune.
Her characteristic enterprise, milling, begun by this same Allen, has been an unfailing source of wealth; the golden grain with almost magic transformation filling the coffers of her merchants and giving her the security that a healthy financial condition brings. Besides this, she owes much to that liberal-minded gentleman, Colonel Nathaniel Rochester, who came with his family from Maryland when the settlement was in its infancy, and made his home in "the pleasant valley." It is amusing to fancy the unique procession, headed by the Colonel and his sons on horseback, that started out towards "the wild west" in the summer of 1802. There were carriages for the ladies and servants, and wagons for provisions and household goods, stretched out in formidable array: for railroads were out of the question then.