Part 10 (2/2)
On the western boundary of Illinois, joining Indiana, and on the southern sh.o.r.e of Lake Michigan, stands the wonderful city of Chicago: wonderful in its quick growth, and wonderful in the way the ravages of the great fire there have been replaced. I was necessarily, by the time-table of the trains, delayed there some six hours, so I walked through the town. It is a beautiful one, not equal in that respect to San Francisco, but still far ahead of New York.
Like both the said cities, Chicago is overrun with tram-cars, and like them also other wheel-vehicles are in the minority. Its position on the sh.o.r.e of that vast lake, and on the direct line of rail, is a commanding one for all purposes of trade and commerce, and doubtless to this, in a great measure, may its quick growth be attributed.
Formerly, before the fire, it was, I believe, nearly all wood, now the greater part is brick and stone. It is built on the plan of all American towns, in square blocks, so that the streets, which are wide, all run at right angles to each other. It boasts many very handsome buildings, and the display in the shop windows of huge plate gla.s.s quite equals London, or Paris either. I was very glad of the six hours' delay, which enabled me to see this magnificent city. Lake Michigan was the first sight I had of those five vast sheets of fresh water, all joining together, which is such a unique feature in North America. As I stood on the sh.o.r.e and saw the boundless waters before me, it was difficult to realize that I gazed on a lake and not on the ocean.
I saw a number of pretty faces at Chicago, and I then first began to think what I should say in this book about the beauty of women in the States. In no country on earth, my experience teaches me, is beauty as common as in Great Britain. Every fourth young girl you meet here, be it in Ireland, England, Scotland, or Wales, has some pretensions to good looks. Perhaps, anyway in my opinion, the claim for beauty as regards the four countries follows in the order in which I have named them. In America, on the contrary, beauty is not sown broadcast through the land, but then to make up for this, when it is found it is very perfect. Some American girls and women are extremely handsome, but in America, far more than in Europe, beauty clings to the upper cla.s.ses. One point further; I doubt if beauty is as _lasting_ on the other side of the Atlantic as it is here. I believe the high temperature the rooms are kept at with stoves during the severe cold of winter is, to some extent, answerable for this, and the extremes of temperature in summer and winter are doubtless another cause.
While perambulating Chicago, being a stranger, I had to ask my way, and I was then struck, as I had been both in New York and San Francisco, how much better the place desired is pointed out in London. Say you want to find Bond Street and ask the way. If anywhere in the vicinity, the answer is, ”Second to the right, first to the left, and first again to the left,” or as it may be, and following such a direction is not difficult. Having found Bond Street, the houses are all numbered, and so you easily get to the one you want.
Say in any American city there is a street called Montgomery Street and you ask your way there. The answer is, ”On Tenth, between Market and Cheese,” and the interrogated pa.s.ses on. You think the man is laughing at you, are angry, and ask again. A woman this time, the men all seem in such a woful hurry. Again the same answer, ”On Tenth, between Market and Cheese.” You are bewildered. Can this be a stereotyped joke? You essay a third time, result the same. But the third person you ask is perhaps more considerate, and, seeing your look of astonishment, and divining you are a Britisher, he deigns to explain. After listening a few minutes, you find that the said answer should read, ”Out of Tenth Street, between Market Street and Cheese Street;” and adds the interrogated, ”But, you see, we've no time to spare in this city, and so answer as short as we can; besides every one knows 'Cheese' means Cheese Street.”
Well, anyhow, you now know that Montgomery Street, which you seek, leads out of Tenth Street, and is between Market Street and Cheese Street. The first thing, of course, is to find Tenth Street. You ask your way there. The same answer in kind, though not in words, ”On Lawrence, between Nine and Eleven.” You do not now think it is a joke, and though confused, determined to see where it will end, you ask again for Lawrence Street. This time you are lucky, Lawrence Street abuts on the street you are in, which is Eighth Street, and the answer is, ”Three blocks on.” You have learnt before this that all American towns are built in blocks, the streets running between.
So ”three blocks on” is tantamout to ”four turnings on,” and thus you easily find Lawrence Street. If you have not forgotten, which you likely enough have, the previous directions, you have now to seek Tenth, which leads out of Lawrence Street. Walking down Lawrence Street, you come to Ninth Street, running off at right angles, so Tenth Street is the next turning, and down that, between Market Street and Cheese Street, as told, you find the street you want, viz.
Montgomery Street.
The above, to read, sounds puzzling, but, believe me, it is no exaggeration. You soon get accustomed to the word ”street” being omitted, but as you don't know the town at all, to be told the street you ask for leads out of another, with the names of the streets on either side, does not help you much. Why such a roundabout mode of direction is adopted, and it holds all over the States, I never could understand. It may answer for those who know the town more or less, but an outsider it helps but little.
Having attained the street you seek, your troubles are not at an end.
Houses are supposed to be numbered; but, unfortunately, only in some instances are the numbers marked on them, and if you ask for a number, no one knows it. You have to explain to any one you inquire of what kind of shop it is, and the name of the shopkeeper; or, if a private house, the name of the dweller. If he knows it, you are then told, either, ”Six blocks down,” or ”Between Eleven and Twelve”
which, of course, you now understand; and after some trouble you find it in the block between Eleventh Street and Twelfth Street.
Enough on this. Now as to a point in which the Americans excel us. As I have said, all their cities and towns are laid out in square blocks, the streets running between, and thus always at right angles to one another. The streets running, say from north to south (I'm not sure if I am right as to the points of the compa.s.s), are all _numbered_ in succession, thus, first, second, third, and so on for the whole number. The streets running the other way (say from east to west) are all _named_. Numbering the first is convenient, for if it is one of the numbered streets you seek there is no more difficulty in finding it than a house where all are numbered. But strange that, perceiving the advantage of this, as they of course do, the Americans have not gone a step further, which, if done, would have enabled a stranger to find _any_ street he sought without inquiry. If the _named_ streets were given names, with the first letter of each in alphabetical succession, as Alpha Street, Bishop Street, Canary Street, right through, beginning from one end, the great desideratum detailed above would be accomplished. In other words, whereas now you can find any one of the numbered streets without inquiry, you could then do just the same with the streets which are named.
Another peculiarity in American towns are strong wire ropes, running high up across the street, from which, in the centre, depends, generally in ornamental wire-scroll letters, the name of the shopkeeper on one side and a _resume_ of the articles he sells. In some cases these are illuminated at night, and then have a pleasing effect, besides helping to light the street. I could see no possible objection to the plan, and if allowed in London, on the condition that the owners illuminated them properly at their own cost, the sad darkness our capital lies in, as compared with most others, would, in a great measure, be done away with. Are we never going to light up London with electricity? The Americans, on this point, are far ahead of us. In every large town there the electric light is nearly universal; and on the Continent, too, much more has been achieved in that way than in England.
While on American peculiarities I must mention another, though it is a little thing, and is only universal far out west. The cups have no handles. This is certainly not an advantage when you are drinking hot tea or coffee, for you simply can't lift the cup! I have mentioned before that most of the crockery used in the States comes from England, and in the case of cups for despatch long distances by rail, I presume the handles are omitted to enable them to pack better, one in the other, which of course they do.
I left Chicago when the six hours were up. It was then dark, and as I slept through the state of Indiana I can say nothing about it. Next morning we were in Ohio, and skirting the southern sh.o.r.e of Lake Erie for some hours. I have nowhere seen more beautiful pastoral scenery than I saw there, or a richer country. There were many perfect country seats on the borders of that vast and superb lake, and clean-looking pretty towns and villages. There is no want of rain in this part of America, and the pasture-fields vied in their bright green with those in Ireland, which so richly deserves the name of the Emerald Isle.
In the evening we reached Buffalo, at the eastern extremity of Lake Erie, and had an hour's halt there. That second wonderful sight in the world (I hold the Himalayan snowy range to be the first), the Niagara Falls, lay only twenty miles off, and I could not go and see it! I had only just allowed myself time to catch the steamer from New York, in which I had taken and paid for my pa.s.sage, and I could not afford to lose the money. I almost cried with vexation at my stupidity, but the fact was I had not realized the line ran so near the Falls. ”Don't you tell any one,” said an American to me in the train, when we started again, ”that you were so near, and yet missed seeing _the_ great sight of our glorious country, because, you see, it's neither creditable or credible, though to miss your pa.s.sage to Europe, I allow, would be a serious loss. Why didn't you fix it otherwise?” I told him. ”Well, keep it quiet,” he added, ”for your own sake, as it's not a thing to boast of.” I have not followed his advice. Would you have done so, reader?
We were close to New York, or rather Jersey City, when I awoke next morning. The terminus of the rail is in the latter. I steamed across the Hudson river in one of the grand ferries, and at ten o'clock breakfasted once more in the American capital.
The _cuisine_ is different in the States to ours. Many small dishes are served in succession, something on the French plan, but the order of succession is not so good, nor are the edibles themselves.
In all but the first and expensive hotels, bathing-towels there are none, and those they give are wofully small and thin. They look and feel more like pocket-handkerchiefs.
The blinds to the windows go up with a spring, but the said spring, owing to the stuff of which the blinds are made being thick, harsh, and stiff, seldom seems able to do more than pull the blind up three-quarters of the way.
There is one great advantage in American hotels. The daily charge is strictly an inclusive one, comprising meals, attendance, and everything but alcoholic drinks. There are positively no extras, and you depart in peace, not having to ”remember” waiter, chambermaid, or others.
Turning over my memoranda, I find one very peculiar habit which I ought to have mentioned when out west, for I have not seen it elsewhere. Suppose a man has a box of matches in his hand, and you ask him for a light for your pipe. He takes out a match, lifts up the right leg, bent at the knee to draw the trousers tight, and ignites it on the lower part of the thigh. The effect is peculiar; he seems to be drawing fire from that part of his body! No one there ever lights matches any other way, and doubtless it is easier done so than on any other object, as I learnt by experience. But the posture is most inelegant and grotesque, and had any one prophesied, when I first saw the feat, that I should ever do it, I should have laughed scornfully. But habits, you see continually, take a strange hold of you; my sons never lighted matches any other way, and I, trying it once or twice, found it so convenient, I am almost ashamed to say I was fast acquiring the practice when I left the ranch. Of course, since my return to civilization, I have not been so naughty! I once, in Colorado, saw a girl, and a very nice one, a lady's daughter of ten years old, essay the feat, quite unconscious of doing anything strange. Odd to relate, she succeeded, for petticoats are naturally inferior to trousers as match illuminating surfaces. But the performance convulsed me with laughter, while I pointed out to her mother and her that in her case it was highly dangerous withal.
The _Monarch_ steamer left next morning early, so I slept on board.
She was a tiny boat as compared with the _City of Rome_, in which I had come out, but a good one all the same. Except a twenty-four hours' gale of wind, during which she behaved well, we had a smooth pa.s.sage. The pa.s.sengers were not many. We were bound to London, so came up the Channel and river, arriving in thirteen days. After the bright skies I had revelled in, the foggy November weather we encountered, after pa.s.sing the Scilly Islands, was very gloomy in comparison, and the dingy old Thames, when I recalled the Hudson river, showed out painfully. Still England is _dear_ England to the ”Britisher,” and as I landed at Blackwall I felt that, with all her faults, I loved her still.
FINISH.
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