Part 8 (1/2)

At last some men who happened to be near offered their a.s.sistance, and attempted to attract the attention of the horse from a distance, by jumping up and down in a neighboring field. _Paul_ threw his head forward, quietly and curiously watching their manoeuvers. He was evidently amused, but there was no spirit to the picture. Unfortunately the ”spirited” part of the scene was out of range.

This delay for vanity's sake prevented us from getting farther than Weedsport by noon, where a brief halt was made for dinner. I was met here by W. H. Ransom and the proprietor of the Howard House of Port Byron, who came over to Weedsport and escorted me to their village, where I had tea and was very courteously entertained for a few hours. On leaving Port Byron, these gentlemen rode forward with me towards Montezuma Swamp, which lies between the two towns. Here we parted company, there being no reason why they should ”run the gauntlet” with me. I had heard wonderful tales of the dreaded monsters of this swamp, who were reputed to be the very worst mosquitoes on record, not excepting their famous kinsmen of the Hackensack Flats, New Jersey.

Unable to bear patiently the torture of my a.s.sailants who were swarming around me by thousands, I put spurs to _Paul_, and went through at a gallop; but notwithstanding this attempt to put the enemy to rout, superior numbers gave them the advantage and their victim came out covered with scars.

When Montezuma was reached we were glad to rest, for our late adventure had quite exhausted both horse and rider.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN OLD LANDMARK.]

Twenty-ninth Day.

_Newark House_, NEWARK, NEW YORK, _June Sixth_.

The journey along the line of the New York Central from Montezuma to Newark, was an exciting one to me and _Paul_. I had long since learned that whenever the route brought us in close proximity with the railroad, the quiet pursuit of our way was often varied by exciting moments, owing to _Paul's_ suspicion of the ”iron horse.” The climax of these escapades was reached this morning, when _Paul_, becoming frightened by an approaching train repeated the experience of three days ago by plunging into a slough, about two miles from Newark, and completely covering himself and rider with mud. When I had recovered sufficiently to realize the situation, my thoughts were not as amiable, I fear, as those of Bunyan's good Christian, tried in like manner. The ”slough of despond”

was so very literal in this case.

I had made every effort to control the excited animal, but found the attempt useless; and I verily believe if he were between the infernal regions and a coming train, he would choose the former at a bound. It was rather trying to appear before people of the town in such a lamentable condition, to say nothing of the discomforts arising from damp clothing; but there was no alternative, so I followed my course; the unfortunate victim of circ.u.mstances.

Thirtieth Day.

_Fairport House_, FAIRPORT, NEW YORK, _June Seventh_.

Resumed march at eight o'clock in the morning, but the weather was so oppressively warm and sultry, that I was obliged to wait over from noon until six o'clock. Riding in the cool of the day was much more agreeable, yet, notwithstanding the physical comfort, I must confess that the lonely and unknown road gave rather a gloomy forecast to my thoughts. Beside this, I found some difficulty in obtaining necessary directions, and lost the chief charm of the journey--a view of the beautiful country through which I was pa.s.sing.

It had not been my intention to do any travelling after sundown unless the heat made it absolutely necessary, but in this instance I felt justified in changing the original plan. Moving along through the unfamiliar scenes, I missed the pleasant coloring of woods and fields under the broad light of day, the noisy hum the suns.h.i.+ne calls forth, and the sound of the birds, always the sweetest music to me. Instead of these there was the mystical silence of night, broken only by the clatter of _Paul's_ hoofs over the dusty road. Four hours' steady travel brought us in sight of the straggling lights of the little post-village of Fairport, where we stopped for the night. Found several Rochester papers awaiting me here, which contained pleasant reference to my proposed lecture at Corinthian Hall.

CHAPTER IX.

FOUR DAYS AT ROCHESTER.

Antic.i.p.ating 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 aesculapius 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,”