Ocean to Ocean on Horseback
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Autumn approached, and, as the crops were poor, several of the tribes withdrew for the winter, but Pontiac, untiring in his efforts to harass his enemies, remained, sending messages in the meantime to several of the French posts, asking their help. In November he received word from the commandant of Fort Chartres on the Mississippi telling him that it was impossible for the French to give any help as they had signed a treaty with the English; and later similar messages reached him from other points. Still he did not give up. His allies had captured eight forts, and if he could take Detroit success would undoubtedly follow.
In the spring the tribes returned to renew the attack upon the wellnigh exhausted garrison, keeping up their fiendish tortures, capturing vessels sent with supplies and reinforcements, and bringing the handful of brave men within the palisades to the verge of despair. As summer advanced the anxious watchers, hearing the sunset gun thunder out across the water, thought that each night might be their last; but off in the East, General Bradstreet and his large force were starting to the rescue, and by midsummer they had crushed the hopes, if not the proud spirit of Pontiac. Sending one of his officers to this chief with terms of peace, his advances were received with the coldest disdain. Captain Morris, who was the ambassador, was met beyond the Indian camp by Pontiac himself, but the chief refused to extend his hand, and bending his glittering eyes upon the officer said, with a voice full of bitterness and hatred, "The English are liars!"
All attempts at conciliation were made in vain. Pontiac, taking with him four hundred warriors, went away, revisiting all the tribes, sending the wampum belt and hatchet stained with vermilion far and wide, and exhorting the Indians to unite in the common cause, threatening, if they refused, to consume them "as the fire consumes the dry grass of the prairie." He failed to rouse them, however, and was forced at last to return to Detroit and accept peace.
The feelings that surged in his savage heart, when he found himself thus defeated, can only be guessed. Chagrined and disappointed, he retired to Illinois, and there perished by the hand of an assassin. No stone marks his burial-place, "and the race whom he hated with such burning rancor trample with unceasing footsteps over his forgotten grave."
The early history of Detroit is full of tragedy, and although the beautiful river and its islands, the splendid forests and sunny fields that encompass it, seem to have been intended for peace and the play of romance, they were instead the scenes of treachery and carnage. During the war of the Revolution, Detroit and Mackinaw, far from the field of action, nevertheless had their share in it. From their magazines Indians were furnished with arms and ammunition and were sent out with these to harass and destroy the frontier settlements of New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky, receiving a price upon their return for the scalps which they brought! Besides these Indian expeditions, the local militia went out, at one time under Captain Byrd, and again under Henry Hamilton. The latter, in an attempt to protect the British interests on the Wabash, was cleverly captured at Vincennes by General George Clarke, who advanced upon this post with his men supported by a formidable but harmless device in the form of a cannon cut out of a tree. Hamilton, dreading the artillery, surrendered, and the people of Detroit, believing that the victor would march against them, erected a new fort near the present corner of Fort and Shelby streets, which they named Lenault. During the war of 1812, this name was changed and the post became known as Fort Shelby.
After the treaty of 1783 the western posts did not at once acknowledge American jurisdiction, and among these Detroit seemed to be the most defiant, but when Wayne effectually weakened the strength of the Indians, there was a general surrender, although the United States forces did not take actual possession until July eleventh, 1796. With childish spite, the British, upon leaving this fort, broke the windows of the barracks, filled the wells with stones and did all they could to annoy those who were to succeed them, and when General Hull came there as governor of the territory, it is possible that the ruin which he found was occasioned by the same spirit of revenge.
During the succeeding years, Detroit was again one of the points towards which an unpropitious fate pointed a finger. The Indians, still believing that the Americans were driving them from their land, were making preparations to attack the settlements, led on by the powerful influence of the two chiefs, Tecumseh and the Prophet.
At a grand council the assembled tribes were told, according to the policy of these chiefs, that the Great Spirit had appeared to chief Tront and had told him that He was the father of the English, French, Spaniards and Indians, but that the Americans were the sons of the Evil One! Under such influence the uprising which resulted in the war between Great Britain and the United States began.
When General Brock, seconded by Tecumseh, marched on Detroit, he requested of the Chief, in case the place was taken, that the inhabitants should be spared massacre, to which the haughty savage replied, "that he despised them too much to have anything to do with them." The result of this attack, and the inexplicable conduct of General Hull, had aroused a strong feeling of disgust, and universal sympathy was felt for those brave men, who, upon hearing that their superior officer was surrendering without an attempt at resistance, "dashed their muskets upon the ground in an agony of mingled shame and indignation."
Victories elsewhere finally obliged the British to evacuate, and on the eighteenth of October, General Harrison and Commodore Perry issued a proclamation from this fort, which once more assured the people of Michigan of protection.
Passing through the test of fire and sword, Detroit has gradually progressed in all those ways which go to make up a great and prosperous city. Fulfilling her natural destiny she has become one of the most important commercial centres in the United States, and as a port of entry can boast with reason of her strength. The narrow lanes which were enclosed within the pickets of Fort Ponchartrain, and trodden by men in the French uniform, in English red coats and in the skins of the deer and beaver, have reached out over many miles, and have become an intricate maze of streets and avenues, lined with homes and business houses which bear no trace of the old time block house and trader's cabin.
Here and there, where history is preserved, one finds a few relics of the "dead past" embalmed in paint or print or labelled within the glass case of a museum; but the present Detroit is interesting enough without these. In every direction it is brightened by parks and adorned by fountains; and the broad avenues lined by generous borders of grass and shaded by cool lines of trees, are something for Americans to be proud of, especially when they recall the fact that "Johnny Crapeau" once asserted that this particular corner of the new world belonged to the Grande Monarque; and "John Bull" in turn claimed it for his own.
One of the prettiest parts of the city, and perhaps within the possibility of description, is the Campus Martius. On it stands the suggestive if somewhat unusual monument designed by Randolph Rogers and erected by the city at a cost of sixty thousand dollars. The surmounting figure is that of an Indian maiden representing the State, and on the tablet beneath, the inscription tells us that it was placed there "in honor of the martyrs who fell and the heroes who fought in defence of Liberty and Union." Everywhere are evidences of a high appreciation of beauty and comfort, and if the people of Detroit are sometimes tempted to seek a change and rest on some of the little island resorts of the river, or on Lake St. Clair, it is not because their own homes are unattractive. Some one has said, "if places could speak, they would describe people far better than people can describe places," and this is especially true of this great city. It is impossible by words to do it justice. The public buildings, the thronged streets, the busy harbor, the shady avenues, must be seen to be appreciated, and there are very few places which will justify praise and repay expectation more liberally than this splendid City of the Strait.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DETROIT TO CHICAGO
Eighty-fifth Day
Inkster House,Inkster, Michigan,August 4, 1876.Having before me a lecture appointment at Ypsilanti, which, considering the object I had in view through Michigan, I felt must be met, I rode out of Detroit at three o'clock in the afternoon, somewhat reluctantly perhaps, but within a very short time the love of travel was again upon me, and I found myself easily reconciled. Paul being in the most delightful spirits, after four days of unbroken rest, displayed quite a little animation as I mounted him in front of the residence of friends on Cass Avenue, and when we had reached the open country, I gave him the rein and allowed him to trot or gallop, as he felt inclined. The edge of his impatience having worn off, he resumed his habitual easy canter which made the saddle so enjoyable, and at this pace we covered fourteen miles, reaching our destination a few minutes after six o'clock. There was an agreeable if not decided contrast between the last stopping-place and the present one. A hundred towers announced the approach to a great city, as we neared Detroit; but here a solitary spire rose against the sky, and while the Detroit River teems, throughout its entire length with water-craft of all sorts, the almost unknown little river that winds along between Detroit and Inkster, is at this point as quiet as one of the untravelled streams of the North. The Michigan Central Railway follows its shore for many miles, and as I kept to the highway in the same direction, I could see it shining occasionally through an opening in the trees. The waters of this river are no doubt full of fish, as are all the streams of Michigan, and they have besides a fine characteristic – a sparkling clearness.
Eighty-sixth Day
Hawkins House,Ypsilanti, Michigan,August Fifth.A forbidding sky hung over Inkster as I took my seat in the saddle at ten o'clock, but "Forward" was the watchword, and there was moreover a charm in variety, for sunny skies had become rather monotonous and, under the circumstances, uncomfortable. The dust was well laid when we had gone only a short distance, but it rose again in a new form as Paul quickened his pace, so that we did not present a very dashing appearance to the Ypsilantians, after sixteen miles of such travel.
Several times I was obliged to turn from the road, once taking shelter under a tree and again in a woodshed. There were in town, however, those who could excuse the appearance of a bespattered traveller – brave men who had gone from Ypsilanti in the early days of the Rebellion, and who had learned from long campaigning to look upon their comrades without criticism. The brave Fourteenth Infantry started out from here under Colonel Robert Sinclair, and joining Sherman in Georgia took a lively part in all the movements of his army, until the fall of Atlanta; numbering among their proudest achievements the repulse of the enemy at Bentonville, North Carolina, where the hurriedly constructed works of the Federals were charged and taken and then regained at the point of the bayonet; and their part in the battle of Jonesboro, Georgia, in 1864, which was the last of Sherman's brilliant operations around Atlanta. Many of these brave fellows perished on the field of battle, but enough remain to keep fresh the memory of those stirring days and to add the influence of their patriotism to the young Ypsilanti.
Eighty-seventh Day
Hawkins House,Ypsilanti, Michigan,August Sixth.On the previous evening I met a large number of men of the town, who gave me a hearty welcome, and as many of them were old soldiers, they expressed their satisfaction with the purpose of my lecture, favoring me with considerable enthusiasm in Union Hall.
The patriots of Michigan have many proud deeds to tell of, and are distinguished for their gallant service. Their military leaders were invariably zealous, and their civil leaders unceasing in their encouragement. "We cannot consent to have one star obliterated from our flag" was the sentiment, and with the saving of the Union at heart, the men went into battle.
During Wheeler's repulse at Strawberry Plains in August, 1864, eight Michigan men were left to guard McMillan's Ford on the Halston. One of these, knowing the danger of his position, deserted, leaving his seven companions to "hold the fort." This handful kept back a brigade under the Confederate general almost four hours, but the Rebels crossed above and below the ford and captured the guard. One of their number, a farrier, was wounded, and Wheeler coming up to him began a conversation. Finally Wheeler said, "Are all the Tenth Michigan like you fellows?" "Oh, no," said the other, "we are mostly horse farriers and blacksmiths and not much accustomed to fighting." "Well," said Wheeler, "if I had three hundred such men as you, I could march straight through h – l!"
Eighty-eighth Day
McKune House,Chelsea, Michigan,August Seventh.Left Ypsilanti bright and early in order to save time, for although nearly the middle of August, I still felt the intense heat, and the dry dusty roads often made my daily journeys far from agreeable. For several days the mercury ranged between 85° and 90°, and as the route was at this time due west, the sun nearly stared me out of countenance in the afternoon. Ann Arbor was reached about ten o'clock, but I did not take more than a passing glance at the University, noticing, however, that women as well as men were among the students – a recent and wise change in the law of the institution. The people were raising a flag over one of the buildings as I rode through, and on it in conspicuous letters were the names of Tilden and Hendricks.
Delhi, with no signs of a Lalla Rookh, and Scio, modest under the dignity of its suggestive Latin name, were quaint landmarks along my way, but I rode on a mile beyond to have dinner at Dexter. The Huron River has its source near here, in one of a cluster of lakelets, bordering on Livingstone and Washtenaw counties. All Michigan is covered with these small bodies of water, which, with the streams, lie upon its green surface like pearls in a network of silver.
Leaving Dexter, I had company all the way to Chelsea. Large flocks of sparrows flew along, lighting upon the telegraph wires, and as I approached they would fly away and settle again farther along, keeping up a kind of race, which was evidently fun for them, and which greatly amused me. It seemed as though they were tireless, and when I and my horse reached our destination fatigued, after twenty-six miles of travel in the sun, these strong-winged fellows were ready for another flight. I do not doubt that they easily accomplished the return journey, for we cannot compute the distance they can cover in a day. They are hardy little fellows and, despite the objections urged against them, have many admirable qualities, not the least among which is their tenacity of purpose.
Eighty-ninth Day
Hurd House,Jackson, Michigan,August Eighth.A few minutes after seven in the morning found me in the saddle at Chelsea. I stopped on my way at the Herald office and then struck off towards the main road, along which I cantered to Grass Lake, where I had dinner and remained until three o'clock. This rest was thoroughly enjoyed, the more so perhaps, as I learned before leaving Chelsea that if my advance agents had not made arrangements for me elsewhere, the people would have asked me to lecture here. In that event I should not have been so familiar with the quiet charms of Grass Lake.
Probably there are those who, if they had been in my place, would have denied themselves these halts along the way, but they would have been deprived of a double gratification. In the first place they would miss much of the character of the country through which they passed, the real difference in the manners and customs of the people; and they would miss the opportunity of assuring the credulous that they were not making a test ride across the continent within a certain time and for a certain reward.
News often travels incredibly fast when there are no evident means of communication, and I was often amused by the curiosity which my advent excited and the reasons which were whispered about in the villages through which I passed, as to the object of my journey. Indeed many Michiganders, from quiet haunts in their native wilds, made short pilgrimages "to town" in order to look at one whom they fancied might hold a proud place for having crossed the continent in so many days, hours and seconds. My horse even was looked upon with awe, as "the charger upon which General Washington rode during the war of the Revolution!" But this anachronism belongs to New York.
Leaving Grass Lake late in the afternoon, it was necessary to make better time in order to cover the remainder of the twenty three miles lying between Chelsea and Jackson. The pace quickened. I came into the latter city at six o'clock, and rode directly to the hotel.
Ninetieth Day
Hurd House,Jackson, Michigan,August Ninth.I clipped the following notice from the Citizen of this date, as a memento of my stay at Jackson. It chronicled the fact that:
"Captain Willard Glazier lectured last evening in the interest of the Custer Monument Fund. His lecture was a good historical review delivered with graceful rhetoric and at times real eloquence. The Captain is still in the city giving his horse a rest; a noble Kentucky Black Hawk, whom he has ridden all the way from Boston, and whom he expects to carry him to San Francisco. He starts to-morrow morning for Battle Creek, where he lectures on Saturday evening."
My advance agent, Babcock, went on to Battle Creek in the morning, where arrangements were made with local committees for my lecture on the twelfth. After he had gone I made a leisurely inspection of the city. It was impossible to do more on account of the extreme heat.
This may no doubt be considered the centre of the closely populated southern end of Michigan, a region dear, in times past, to the heart of the Indian, but which knows him no more. A Chippewa chief standing upon this soil, once said: "These lakes, these woods, these mountains were left to us by our ancestors; they are our inheritance, and we will part with them to no one." He knew not the strength of the pale faces who listened; for within a few years they were ready to claim, on the same grounds, those hills, and lakes, and mountains for their own.
Compared to the peninsula, whose mineral-laden shores are washed by Superior, Michigan and Huron, there is the greatest contrast; and La Hontan, making a little exploratory trip up there before anyone else, called it "the fag end of the world." These words might still be applied to some of the wildest northern points, but here is the very heart of civilization.
Jackson lies in the coal fields that reach down through several of the southern counties. This deposit is not rich, owing to the amount of sulphur in it, and the demand is chiefly local. The Grand River divides the town and, with the bridge that spans it, adds much to the picturesque effect.
Ninety-first Day
Cooley House,Parma, Michigan,August Tenth.Spent the forenoon in my room at the Hurd House, Jackson, writing letters to my wife, Major Hastings and others. In the afternoon there was a street parade of Howe's London Circus which was a very fantastic affair, but which seemed to be hugely enjoyed by everybody. Later in the day the great tent was upset by a gust of wind, accompanied by a thunder-shower, and a droll scene followed, which caused considerable excitement. The people were left exposed with the rain coming down upon them in torrents. So far I have seen nothing more amusing than the country boys and girls rushing up town drenched, and for once at least indifferent to the charms of the "big show."
The storm having passed, I ordered Paul after supper, rode down to the office of the Patriot and Citizen, and after a few minutes' conversation with the editor, hurried on toward Parma, which was reached late in the evening. The ride in the dark was cool, but somewhat lonely.
It was probably on such nights as this that young Dean, the enterprising settler of years ago, played his nocturnal tricks upon his neighbors. He came out to Michigan when it was a wilderness, to make his fortune by clearing land at ten dollars an acre, and while he was drudging he expected to have a little fun. It was his habit to work away all day chopping trees within an inch of the falling point, and then about ten o'clock, when the settlers were well asleep, to go out and give a blow to the end tree, so that it would fall against the others and send them crashing like a row of ninepins. How the old forests must have rung with their thundering and how that plotter Dean must have relished his mischief!
As I approached Parma, in the darkness I could see nothing about the village to suggest that other Parma, far away under an Italian sky, but there is a resemblance, for the European duchy and its modest American namesake both lie in a rich agricultural region; and if I mistake not the dull white freestone that is quarried here in such large quantities, finds a prototype over the sea.
Ninety-second Day
Witt House,Marshall, Michigan,August Eleventh.As there was a heavy rainfall in the morning, I waited in Parma until nearly ten o'clock, and even then was obliged to start in a thunder-shower in order to keep my appointment for the following evening at Battle Creek. This required no sacrifice, for, excepting the discomfort of wet clothes, the change was agreeable. I reached Albion in time for dinner, and immediately made myself comfortable at the hotel. Rest and refreshment having the desired effect, I afterward took a short stroll through the town, which I found very wide awake, although the Methodist college, the life of the place, was still closed for the summer vacation. In the meantime the men of the village had met, and before I remounted, came to me and persuaded me to return by rail and deliver the Ouster lecture on the fifteenth. Glad to do all I could for the "Benefit Fund," I readily consented and started away with the good wishes of the impromptu committee. Marshall, being only twelve miles beyond, was reached early in the evening, so that before dark I had time to get a mental picture of the place. Calhoun County has its capitol here, and in 1853 it was looked upon as one of the most flourishing towns in Michigan. It has not reached the predicted pinnacle of importance, but it has a pleasant situation, some flourishing flour mills, and is altogether a credit to the "Wolverines."
Ninety-third Day
Potter House,Battle Creek, Michigan,August Twelfth.As soon as Paul was led out in front of the Witt House at Marshall, a large crowd gathered about us; and when I had taken my seat in the saddle, one of the number stepped forward in behalf of the townspeople to invite me to return at a time which had previously been agreed upon and lecture on the heroes of the Revolution. Giving them the best promise I could, I hurried away as I had a good six hours' ride before me.
Since the day before there had been a decided change in the weather. The sun blazed down with almost tropical heat, drying up the roads and making my way a veritable fiery furnace. I had a rare opportunity for watching "Old Sol" on these solitary rides, as he appeared unfailingly in the morning, swung through the heavens, and vanished in the west at night. It was now harvest time, and since that early day in May on which I started westward, I had kept my eye on him like a true worshipper, half understanding the pagan with his devotion to Apollo, and half in sympathy with the Indian who greets the Sun-god and weaves the splendid symbol into pouch and canoe and mocassin. Between the hours of ten and four particularly the heat was intense, but in other respects the day was uneventful.