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CHAPTER XII.
ERIE
Decoration Day in Pennsylvania. – Lake Erie. – Natural Advantages of Erie. – Her Harbor, Commerce, and Manufactures. – Streets and Public Buildings. – Soldiers' Monument. – Erie Cemetery. – East and West Parks. – Perry's Victory.
I took my fourth ride from Buffalo westward, on the Lake Shore Road, on the afternoon of May twenty-ninth, 1875, the day set apart that year by the patriotic citizens of Pennsylvania, for the decoration of her soldiers' graves. Passing the State line or boundary between New York and Pennsylvania, a little beyond Dunkirk, an unusually large assemblage of citizens and soldiers, with bouquets and a great profusion of flowers, at nearly every station, betokened the earnest patriotism of the old Keystone State. Pennsylvania will never be behind her sister States in doing honor to the brave men who gave up their lives while fighting her battles; and the demonstrations of each Decoration Day are evidences that she will not soon forget their deeds, or their claim upon her deepest gratitude.
A beautiful sight opens to the view of the tourist as he turns his eye toward the broad, blue expanse of the lake, which may be seen at intervals from the car windows, from Buffalo to Toledo. The mind is quite naturally occupied with grand commercial schemes, on viewing such wonderful facilities for the promotion of enterprise. We have here, in Lake Erie, the connecting link in a chain of fresh-water oceans, which stretch from the Atlantic, westward, almost to the Rocky Mountains. Our internal prosperity is largely due to this great chain of lakes, which secure and facilitate cheap transportation, and have made possible the great inland cities, the pride of our Middle States.
Erie is an intermediate point between Buffalo and Cleveland, and having a most excellent harbor, would seem destined to take rank among the first cities of America. But by that inscrutable law which, seemingly beyond reason, governs and controls the foundation and growth of cities and towns, natural advantages do not always seem to count; and as a large fish swallows a smaller one, so has Erie been dwarfed by her older rivals, who, getting an earlier foothold upon the shore of the lake, have absorbed its trade, and continued to maintain the advantage they at first secured. An increase of commerce on Lake Erie will undoubtedly throw a share to the city of Erie, and thus she may eventually succeed in occupying the position to which her harbor and railroads entitle her.
Erie is on the lake, about midway of the brief stretch of shore which the narrow section of Western Pennsylvania, jutting up between New York and Ohio, secures to that State. It is her only lake town of any importance, is a port of entry, and has a population of nearly thirty thousand inhabitants. The harbor is the largest and best on Lake Erie. It is about four miles in length, one mile in width, and in depth varying from nine to twenty-five feet, thus permitting access to the largest lake vessels. It is formed by an island four miles in length, which lies in front of the city, and which, from its name of Presque Isle, indicates that within the memory of man it has been a peninsula. The bay is known as Presque Isle Bay. It is protected by a breakwater, and three lighthouses guard the entrance. Several large docks, furnished with railroad tracks, permit the transfer of merchandise to take place directly between the vessels and the cars. The terminus of the Philadelphia and Erie Railroad, and connected by the Lake Shore Railroad with all important points in the east and west, the city is fast developing into a strong commercial centre. A canal connecting with Beaver River, a tributary of the Ohio, facilitates commerce in the western section of Pennsylvania, and furnishes extensive water-power, of which various kinds of mills avail themselves. These mills and the many factories and foundries of the city – for Erie is a manufacturing town of considerable importance – produce iron ware, cars, machinery, organs, furniture, brass, leather, boots and shoes, and send them, by the various methods of transportation, to markets in the States and Canada. The great forest and mining regions of Pennsylvania find, at Erie, an outlet for their lumber, coal and iron ore; while the numerous productive farms which lie in the vicinity of the lake send quantities of grain to be shipped at this port.
The city is built upon an elevated bluff, commanding an extensive view of the lake. It is regularly laid out, with broad streets crossing each other at right angles, and its general appearance is prosperous and pleasing. In the centre of the city are the Parks, two finely shaded inclosures, intersected by State street, and surrounded by handsome buildings. A Soldiers' Monument stands in one of them, erected to commemorate the memory of the brave men who fell in the War of the Rebellion. It is surmounted by two bronze statues of heroic size. There are also two handsome fountains within the Park inclosure. Near by is the classic structure used as a Court House. The Custom House is erected in a substantial style, near the shores of the lake. A new Opera House is also one of the features of the city. The Union Depot is an immense building, nearly five hundred feet in length, in the Romanesque style, two stories in height and surmounted by a cupola forty feet high. State street is the principal business thoroughfare.
The Erie Cemetery, on the south side, is one of the most beautiful in the country. It is on a bluff overlooking the city and the lake, and comprises seventy-five acres, in which tree-shaded walks, elegant drives, velvet turf, running water, masses of shrubbery and brilliant flowers, together with the plain white headstones and the elaborate monuments which mark the resting-places of the dead, are united in a harmonious effect, which is most satisfactory to the beholder. Erie is very proud of this cemetery, and spares no pains to perfect it, while every year adds to its beauty.
East and West Parks lie, as their names indicate, in opposite directions within the city, and are beautiful breathing places where its citizens resort for rest and recreation. Art has joined with nature in rendering these places attractive, and their trees, shrubbery, lawns, walks and drives, and general picturesqueness, combine to make them very charming spots.
Erie has historical associations which render her of interest to one who would gather facts concerning his country. Lake Erie was the scene of a naval engagement between the British and Americans, on September tenth, 1813, in which the latter were victorious. Commodore Perry, in command of the American fleet, sailed from this port on the memorable day, and when the engagement was concluded, brought thither his prizes. Several of his ships sunk in Lawrence Bay, and in fair weather the hull of the Niagara is still visible.
The development of Western Pennsylvania is contributing more and more, as the years go by, to the prosperity of Erie. Her exceptionally fine harbor is already beginning to be recognized by commerce, and though the city may never rival Cleveland or Buffalo, the time may come when Erie will take rank as only second to them on Lake Erie, in commercial importance.
CHAPTER XIII.
HARRISBURG
A Historic Tree. – John Harris' Wild Adventure with the Indians. – Harris Park. – History of Harrisburg. – Situation and Surroundings. – State House. – State Library. – A Historic Flag. – View from State House Dome. – Capitol Park. – Monument to Soldiers of Mexican War. – Monument to Soldiers of Late War. – Public Buildings. – Front Street. – Bridges over the Susquehanna. – Mt. Kalmia Cemetery. – Present Advantages and Future Prospects of Harrisburg.
A century and a half ago, John Harris, seeking traffic with the red men of the Susquehanna, built a rude hut, dug a well, and thereby began a work which, taken up by his son, led to the founding of the Capital City of Pennsylvania, a city destined to take rank among the first of a great State. The stump of an old tree, in a beautiful little park which skirts the Susquehanna, on a line parallel with Front street, marks the scene of an early adventure of Harris with the Indians, and tells the stranger of his birth and death. About 1718 or 1719, Harris, who had settled at this point on the Susquehanna, as a trader, was visited by a predatory band of Indians returning from the "Patowmark," who made an exchange of goods with him, for rum. Becoming drunken and riotous, he finally refused them any more liquor, when they seized him and bound him to a tree, dancing around their captive, until he thought his last day had come. His negro servant, however, summoned some friendly Shawnees from the opposite side of the river, who, after a slight struggle with the drunken Indians, rescued Harris from his bonds and probably from a death by torture. The stump referred to is that of the historical tree, which was a gigantic mulberry, eleven feet seven inches in circumference. Here also is the grave of Harris, which is surrounded by a strong iron fence, and a young mulberry tree has been planted, by one of his descendants, to take the place of the one whose trunk alone stands as a monument of the past.
During the summer months this romantic spot is the favorite resort of the boys and girls of the neighborhood, and whenever the weather is favorable, a large troop of juveniles may be seen spinning their tops, rolling their hoops and playing at croquet on the lawn. What a contrast is here unfolded to the imagination, as we stand at the grave of the venerable pioneer, and contemplate the wonderful change that has characterized the progress of events during the past hundred years. But little more than a century ago there was a solitary trader with his family upon the borders of a great river in the wilderness. His goods were brought on a pack-horse, and his ferry was a row boat. To-day a thriving, beautiful city takes the place of the log cabin; children sport where once the treacherous Indian sought the life of the hardy frontiersman; the river is spanned by wonderful bridges; and a hundred railroad trains pass through its streets in the course of twenty-four hours.
Harrisburg was laid out by John Harris, Jr., the son of the pioneer, in 1785; it was incorporated as a borough in 1791; became the State Capital in 1812; and received a city charter in 1860. Its population in 1880 numbered more than thirty thousand persons.
Harrisburg is most picturesquely situated, on the Susquehanna River, at the eastern gateway of the Alleghenies. The river is here a mile wide, shallow at most seasons of the year, but capable of becoming a turbulent torrent, carrying destruction along its banks. On the opposite side of the river to the south are the Conestoga Hills; while to the northward are the bold and craggy outlines of the Kittatinny or Blue Mountains. But five miles away is the gap in these mountains through which the Susquehanna forces its way, and the summits of these sentinels are plainly visible. Although on the very threshold of the mountainous region of Pennsylvania, the pastoral beauty of landscape which characterizes eastern Pennsylvania creeps up to meet the ruggedness which predominates beyond; and the two are here blended with most charming results; the softness of the one half veiling the ruggedness of the other; while the picturesqueness of each is heightened by contrast.
The handsomest and most noticeable building of Harrisburg is the State House, which is conspicuously placed on an eminence near the centre of the city. It is T-shaped, having a front of one hundred and eighty feet by eighty in depth, and with an extension of one hundred and five feet by fifty-four feet. It is built of brick, and is three stories high, including the basement. A large circular portico, sustained by six Ionic columns, fronts the main entrance. The building is surmounted by a dome, reaching an altitude of one hundred and eight feet. A State Library, with accommodation for one hundred thousand volumes, and possessing at the present time thirty thousand volumes, is one of the features of the Capitol. This library contains a number of portraits, curiosities and art treasures, prominent among which are two small portraits of Columbus and Americus Vespucius, the work of a celebrated Florentine artist; a picture of the event already narrated in the life of John Harris; and a reflecting telescope, purchased by Benjamin Franklin, and through which was taken the first observation in the western hemisphere, of the transit of Venus.
In the Flag Room of the State House, where are preserved the Pennsylvania State flags used by the different regimental organizations in the war for the Union, is a flag captured by the Confederates at Gettysburg, and afterwards recaptured in the baggage of Jefferson Davis. We find the following brief account of the capture of this flag in the "Harrisburg Visitors' Guide," prepared by Mr. J. R. Orwig, Assistant State Librarian, to whom we are indebted for favors in our literary work. "It was on the evening of the first day; all the color guard were killed, the last being Corporal Joseph Gutelius, of Mifflinburg, Union County. When surrounded, and almost alone, he was commanded to surrender the flag. His mute reply was to enfold it in his arms, and he was instantly shot dead through its silken folds." He lies buried at Gettysburg.
The view from the State House dome is exceptionally grand. I stood on that eminence one bright morning, during the early part of my sojourn at Harrisburg, in the spring of 1877. To eastward is a picturesque, rolling country, varied by hill and dale, field and woodland, with villages or isolated farmhouses nestling here and there in their midst, the brilliant green tint of the foreground melting imperceptibly away into the soft purple haze of the far distance. In front of the city to the westward lies the broad river, gleaming like a ribbon of silver in the sunlight, dotted with emerald islands, and winding away to the southeast, between sloping banks and rocky crags, until it at last loses itself in the misty horizon. To the northward is distinctly seen the gap in the mountains through which the river approaches the city. The bold and abrupt outlines of the mountains are plainly traced, and the scenery in this region is exceptionally grand. Immediately surrounding the State House is the city, spread out with its labyrinth of streets, its factories and furnaces, its stately public buildings, and its elegant private residences, presenting a panorama fair to look upon, and evidencing the prosperity and industry of its people. To obtain a view from this dome is well worth a visit to Harrisburg.
The State House is surrounded by Capitol Park, embracing thirteen acres, and inclosed by an iron fence. These grounds gently slope from the centre, and are ornamented with stately trees, beautiful shrubbery and flowers and closely-shorn greensward. The site was set apart for its present purpose before Harrisburg was a city, by John Harris, its public-spirited founder. Fine views are obtained from it of the suburb of East Harrisburg and the Reservoir, Mt. Kalmia Cemetery, the tower of the new State Arsenal, and the dome of the State Insane Asylum. The prominent feature of this park, next to the State House, is, however, the beautiful monument erected to the memory of the soldiers who fell in the Mexican War. It is one hundred and five feet high, with a sub-base of granite, a base proper, with buttresses at each corner surmounted by eagles, and a Corinthian column of Maryland marble, surmounted by a statue of Victory, the latter executed at Rome, of fine Italian marble. The sides of the base are paneled, and contain the names of the different battles of the Mexican War. The monument is surrounded by an inclosure constructed of muskets used by the United States soldiers in Mexico. In front of the monument are a number of guns, trophies of the Mexican war, and several others presented by General Lafayette.
Another monument, at the intersection of State and Second streets, is in its design purely antique, being founded on the proportions of the pair of obelisks at the gate of Memphis, and of that which stands in the Place Vendome at Paris. It contains the following inscription: "To the Soldiers of Dauphin County, who gave their lives for the life of the Union, in the war for the suppression of the Rebellion, 1861-5. Erected by their fellow-citizens, 1869."
In East Harrisburg, or "Allison's Hill," as it is called, will be seen Brant's private residence, built in the style of the Elizabethan period, the massive stone Catholic Convent, and St. Genevieve's Academy. On State street is Grace M. E. Church, one of the most costly and beautiful churches in the State. Not far away is St. Patrick's Pro-Cathedral. The State Lunatic Asylum is a vast and imposing edifice, a mile and a half north of the city.
Front street, which overlooks the river, is the favorite promenade of the city. Here may be seen the broad river, with its craft and numerous islands, the villages on the opposite shore, and the delightful landscape beyond. Here the citizens often congregate on fine evenings, to watch the sunset views, which are especially fine from this point. On the ridge opposite, is Fort Washington and the line of defenses erected in 1863, in expectation of an invasion of the Southern army. Front street is by far the finest street in the city, containing the most imposing residences, being bordered by trees, and forming a most attractive drive. From State street to Paxton, it presents an almost unbroken range of palatial buildings of brick, stone, marble or granite. On this street is found the residence of the Governor, presented to the State by the citizens of Harrisburg, in 1864, as the Executive Mansion. A more desirable location for a residence can scarcely be imagined than that of Hon. J. D. Cameron, on the southeast corner of State and Front streets, overlooking the Susquehanna. Near the corner of Front street and Washington avenue is the old "Harris Mansion," originally erected in 1766, by John Harris, and remaining in the Harris family until 1840, but now the home of Hon. Simon Cameron.
The Market street bridge spans the river, resting midway on Forster's Island, the western end being an ancient structure, dating back to 1812, while the eastern end, having once been destroyed by flood, and once by fire, was rebuilt in modern style in 1866. The second bridge across the river is at the head of Mulberry street, but it is used for trains alone. This bridge is also divided by Forster's Island. It has once been destroyed by fire, and was entirely remodeled in 1856.
Mt. Kalmia Cemetery is a charming resting-place of the dead, on the heights overlooking the city. Its natural beauties are many, and they have been enhanced by art. It is reached from East State street.
Harrisburg has extensive iron manufactories, and is the centre of six important railways. More than one hundred passenger trains arrive and depart daily, and few cities have a greater number of transient visitors. It is one of the most prosperous cities of the Commonwealth; situated in a fertile valley, in view of some of the grandest scenery in America, with railroads, canals and macadamized roads, diverging in all directions, and connecting it with every section of the country; with important business interests, and an intelligent, industrious and prosperous population; the political centre of one of the chief States of the Union; it has much to congratulate itself upon in the present, and more to hope for from the future. Another decade will see vastly increased business interests, and a population nearly if not quite double that of to-day.
CHAPTER XIV.
HARTFORD
The City of Publishers. – Its Geographical Location. – The New State House. – Mark Twain and the "None Such." – The "Heathen Chinee." – Wadsworth Atheneum. – Charter Oak. – George H. Clark's Poem. – Putnam's Hotel. – Asylum for Deaf Mutes. – The Sign Language. – A Fragment of Witchcraftism. – Hartford Courant. – The Connecticut River.
Having decided to pitch our tents in Hartford, we moved from New Haven by rail, on the afternoon of September eighth, 1874. A hot, dusty day it was, indeed, with mercury at ninety-two in the shade, and dust enough to enable passengers of the rollicking order to inscribe monograms on the backs of their unsuspecting neighbors.
The distance, according to recent time tables, is one dollar, or an hour and fifteen minutes. The scenery encountered on this route is less varied than that from New York to New Haven, and yet there is much to interest the careful observer. The only town of any importance between these rival cities is Meriden, an enterprising city of twenty thousand souls, standing midway between them.
Hartford, the capital of nutmegdom, is the second city of Connecticut, having, as shown by the last census, a population of thirty-seven thousand. Pleasantly situated on the Connecticut River, and enjoying now the advantage of exclusive legislation for the State, Hartford is destined to become one of the most important cities of New England.
Authors, artists and publishers have ever found Hartford a fruitful field for the development of brains and enterprise. It is, perhaps, not exaggeration to say that in no other city of the United States of the same size is there so large a proportion of the population devoted to literature. The American and Hartford Publishing Companies, the firms of Burr, Scranton, Worthington, Dustin, Gilman and Company, and many others of less note, are located here.
The new State House, now in process of erection, is destined to be one of the finest buildings in the country. The site commands a view of the city and its surroundings for many miles. Among the objects of interest to be found here are the residence of "Mark Twain" and the State Insane Asylum. "Mark's" house is at the end of Farmington avenue, on a little eminence, at the foot of which flows a nameless stream.
Its style of construction is so unlike the average house that it has won for itself the characteristic title of "The None Such."
It is still in the hands of the architect, and will probably not be ready for occupancy before November. If this building is not regarded as a marvel, then I will confess that, after nearly twenty years of travel, I have yet to learn the meaning of that term as applied to architecture. The plat of ground on which the house and adjacent buildings stand was selected and purchased by Mrs. "Twain" – so said the gentlemanly architect who replied to our inquiries. As the genial "Mark" desires the maximum quantity of light, his apartments are so arranged as to give him the sun all day. The bricks of the outer walls of the house are painted in three colors, making the general effect decidedly fantastic.
Taking it all in all, I have nowhere seen a more curious study in architecture, and hope, for the satisfaction of its eccentric owner, that it will quite meet his expectations.
The Celestials, or representatives from China, are now so often seen, from California eastward to New England, that they have ceased to be considered objects of special interest in any part of the United States. I have met them more or less in my journeyings during the last two years, and have often wondered if others see their strange characteristics from the same standpoint that I do. To me, Ah Sin is ingenious, enterprising, economical, and the essence of quiet good humor.
Opposite my quarters here in Hartford are two of these odd-looking Chinamen, whom I will, for convenience, name Ching Wing Shing and Chang Boomerang.
My rooms being directly opposite the store of Boomerang and Company, an excellent opportunity is afforded me for witnessing their varied devices to invite trade and entertain their customers. Although only tea and coffee are advertised, Chang's store will be found, on close inspection, to strongly resemble the "Old Curiosity Shop," described by Dickens, there being a small assortment of everything in their line, from tea and coffee to watermelons.
Chang and Ching invariably wear a smile upon their "childlike and bland" features. School children passing that way seem to take pleasure in teasing these mild-mannered China merchants, and unfortunate indeed is the firm of Boomerang and Company, if their backs are turned on their youthful tormenters; for these mischievous urchins seem to think it no crime to pilfer anything owned or presided over by their pig-tailed neighbors. Should Chang or Ching discover their sportive enemies gliding away with the tempting fruits of their stands, it is useless to pursue, for a troop of juvenile confederates will rush into the store the moment it is vacated and help themselves to whatever may please their fancy.
THE WADSWORTH ATHENEUM
While taking a stroll down Main street the other day my attention was arrested by a three-story brownstone building, standing on the east side and back some distance from the street. I had only to glance at the large, bold lettering across its front to be told that it was the Wadsworth Atheneum. Deciding to take a look at the interior of this receptacle of antiquities, I soon made the acquaintance of W. J. Fletcher, the gentlemanly assistant librarian of the Watkins Library, who seemed to take an especial pleasure in showing me everything of interest, and who spared no pains in explaining everything about which I had a question to ask.
There were so many curiosities of ancient as well as modern pattern, that it would be impossible to notice all in a work of this magnitude, and hence I shall content myself with presenting a few subjects which, to me at least, were of striking interest. Stepping into the Historical Rooms my attention was first called to the stump of the famous Charter Oak, which will ever form an interesting chapter in Connecticut history. A very comfortable seat or arm-chair has been moulded from this aged relic, and while sitting within its venerable arms, I copied the following poem by George H. Clark, the manuscript of which is framed and hung up over the chair. I cannot endorse the sentiment of the poet, but will record his lines.
September 10th, 1858.
Dear Sir: – You seem to take so much interest in my lines on the destruction of the old oak, that I have thought you might be pleased with a copy in the author's handwriting, and accordingly inclose one. Yours,
Geo. H. Clark.
THE OAK
1. "Yes – blot the last sad vestige out —
Burn all the useless wood;
Root up the stump, that none may know
Where the dead monarch stood.
Let traffic's inauspicious din
Here run its daily round,
And break the solemn memories
Of this once holy ground.
2. "Your fathers, long the hallowed spot
Have kept with jealous care,
That worshippers from many lands
Might pay their homage there;
You spurn the loved memento now,
Forget the tyrant's yoke,
And lend Oblivion aid to gorge
Our cherished Charter Oak.
3. "'Tis well, when all our household gods
For paltry gain are sold,
That e'en their altars should be razed
And sacrificed for gold.
Then tear the strong, tenacious roots,
With vandal hands, away,
And pour within that sacred crypt
The garish light of day.
4. "Let crowds unconscious tread the soil
By Wordsworth sanctified,
Let Mammon bring, to crown the hill,
Its retinue of pride,
Destroy the patriot pilgrim's shrine,
His idols overthrow,
Till o'er the ruin grimly stalks
The ghost of long ago.
5. "So may the muse of coming time
Indignant speak of them
Who Freedom's brightest jewel rent
From her proud diadem, —
And lash with her contemptuous scorn
The man who gave the stroke
That desecrates the place where stood
The brave old Charter Oak."
It appears to me that no more sensible thing could have been done after the tree fell to the ground, August twenty-first, 1859, than to preserve it here, where it will outlive, by centuries, its rapid decay in an open field, exposed to sun and storm. Thousands may now see the famous oak that otherwise might never know its location or history. It stood on the grounds formerly owned by Samuel Wordsworth, near Charter Oak Avenue, and its top having been blown down and broken during a violent storm, it was afterwards dug up and taken to the Historical Rooms of the Wadsworth Atheneum.
After occupying two hours in looking through the Historical Department, we came to a corner of the room devoted to an exhibition of the relics identified with the history of General Israel Putnam, the Revolutionary patriot, who was commander-in-chief of the American forces engaged at the battle of Bunker Hill.
Connecticut takes a lively interest in anything that pertains to her favorite hero, and we were engaged not less than half an hour in an examination of the various articles impersonating "Old Put." Most Americans are familiar with the story of his early life and adventures, but I think few are aware of the fact that at one time he was a country landlord. Here at the Atheneum they have the very sign-board that attracted the traveler to "Putnam's Hotel." A life-size portrait of the gallant General Wolfe, who was slain while leading his army against Quebec, is painted on the board, which is three feet long by two and a half wide. Imagine now, the hero of a hundred battles and adventures, performing the duties of "mine host" – at once hostler, bartender and perhaps table girl in the dining room.
The character of the man who had the ability to rise from the position of an humble farmer and inn-keeper to that of Senior Major-General of the United States armies, is an index to the character of the American people. Often on the battle-field were the titled nobility of Great Britain compelled to fly before the crushing blows of this sturdy yeoman, who, leaving his plow in the furrow, rushed to the field of danger and glory. Casting aside the habiliments of the farmer, he buckled on his armor and dared to lead where the bravest dared to follow. Israel Putman
