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I GO with her, accompanied
by my wife and brother John S. As the train we wished to take did not
stop at Dearborn I had a hired man, with my team, take us to Detroit.
Father went with us to Detroit and to the Michigan Central Depot. We
went aboard the railroad ferry boat and were soon across the river and
on the cars on the "Great Western Railway." We were soon receding very
fast from Michigan; going across lots and down through the woods of
Upper Canada. [Until 1791 all Canada was embraced within the limits of
the province of Quebec. In the French period the terms pay bas
and pay d'haute (lower country and upper country) were commonly
used to distinguish the older portion of the country, below Montreal,
from the newer portion adjoining the Great Lakes. In 1793 Quebec
Province was divided, the two new creations taking the names of Lower
Canada and Upper Canada. Eventually, the name of Quebec was restored to
the lower province, while Upper Canada was transformed into present-day
Ontario.] I tried to see as much as I could of the country, while we
were swiftly passing through it. I told mother we would manage it so as
to see the whole route, either going or coming, by day- light. I didn't
see anything in particular to admire in Canada until we got down near
London and beyond. Then I saw some good country and I thought it would
compare favorably with Michigan land. [The portion of Ontario which
Nowlin viewed with disapproval is today a rich agricultural region.
However the land is low and flat, and along the lower Thames River
levees have been built to protect it from overflow. In 1861 there were
more woods and fewer drainage ditches than now, and a cursory view of
the country from the car window may have seemed to justify the opinion
the traveler formed of it.]
Just before sundown we
got to the swinging bridge, which hangs over and across Niagara River.
We crossed it very carefully. Just as the sun was about half hid beyond
the western horizon our car reached terra-firma in the state of New
York. I felt a little more secure and at home, than I felt when leaving
Canada, when we had reached our native state.
In a little while we were
aboard the cars of the "New York Central Railroad" and making our way
through the darkness rapidly, toward the east. I told mother we must try
and get a good rest, that night, on the way to Albany. We located
ourselves the best we could for the night. We had only gone a little
ways when, all at once, there was a terrible rattling and jingling, made
by the passing of another train. It made a noise something like the
shelf of a crockery store tumbling down and breaking in pieces glass
ware, earthen ware and all. This noise was accompanied with a heavy
rumbling sound which shook the ground and the car we were in and caused
them to tremble. The flash of the light of the passing train, as it sped
on its way, was so quick by us that it was impossible to see whether it
was a light or not. It appeared like the ghost of a light or a spectre
in its flight through the darkness, for a moment and it was gone. It
left no trace behind that I could see. There had two or three of those
trains of cars passed us before I was able to make out what made the
extra noise. Not having any knowledge that there was a double track
there, and never having rode where there was one before, it took me a
little while, to make up my mind in regard to it.
Both trains going at full
speed, in the night, the one we passed vanishing so quickly, vet not
taking the impression it made on us with its whizzing, hissing, tearing
sound, it seemed like some fierce demon from Tartarus bent on an errand
of annihilation. But it was only another train, like unto the one we
were enjoying, and, if as successful as the officers of the "New York
Central Railroad" wished, it would only seem to annihilate time for its
transient occupants. For the coal miner's invention seemed to make as
much discount on time as any wonder of the last age except our American
Morse' lightning talker. [The electric telegraph had been invented by
Samuel F. B. Morse about fifteen years before this journey. In recent
decades telegraph lines have come to be associated with railroads; the
earlier lines, however, were run through the country entirely apart from
railroad rights of way, and frequently to places where no railroad ran.
The memory of one such line is today embodied in the name Telegraph
Road, the great highway which runs north and south just west of the
William Nowlin farm.] We found there was but very little sleep or rest
for us that night. I could look out of the car window and peer into the
darkness and see lights dotted along here and there, every once in a
while; they seemed low down and looked some like the lights from the
back windows of low log cabins. I made out that they were lights on
board of canal boats. I recollected having passed along there about
thirty years before, and that I jumped into the canal and got terribly
wet. Now we were traveling at a more rapid rate; yes, as far in one hour
as we did in all day then, with a large train of passengers. It was
impossible for mother to get any rest that night. Just as it got nicely
light, in the morning, we arrived at Albany.
No doubt there were on
that train, who rode through the night with us, the churchman, the
statesman, the officer and men who would quickly dress themselves in
blue and march, under the old flag to defend our country. Farmers and
mechanics, men and women of almost every station in life were there.
Some went one way and some another, each intent upon what they thought
concerned them most at the time.
We went to a restaurant for breakfast and especially to get a good cup
of tea for mother. (It had been rather a tedious night for her.) Then we
went on board a ferry boat and crossed over the North River, ["North
River" is but another name for the Hudson. "York State," "North River,"
and other terms local to New York were evidently used by Nowlin to the
end of his life.] then took the "Harlem Railroad" for Pattison, where we
arrived about noon. This was within three miles of where mother was
brought up and I was born. We hired a livery team to take us to Uncle
Allen Light's. In going we passed by a school house where I learned my
"A, B, Abs."
Mother's heart beat high
with emotions of joy as she neared her much beloved brother's dwelling.
She had always thought of him as the young man she left thirty years
before; but she found that the frosts of thirty winters had changed his
locks as well as hers.
I asked the driver if
Allen Light was much of a farmer; he said that he was. I asked him if he
kept a good many cattle; he said he did. I told him when he got there to
let the valises remain in the carriage, and to cover them up, after we
got out, with the robes so they would not be seen, and that I wanted him
to wait a little while, and I would try and buy uncle's fat cattle. At
least, I would sound him a little and see what kind of mettle he was
made of, and he would see the result. I made a special bargain with
mother and she promised to keep still and keep her veil over her face
until I introduced her. She told me afterward, she never would make
another such a bargain as that with me. She said, it was too hard work
for her, when she saw them to keep from speaking.
Just before we made this
visit, my brother and I went to see friends west, and viewed some
prairies of Illinois. We visited Chicago, the great city of the West,
went through it where we saw a great deal of it. We went into the City
Hall, or Court House, and up its winding stairs to a height so great,
that we could overlook most of the city. I saw that the city covered a
good deal of ground. From the elevated position we were occupying, we
looked down and saw men and women walking, in the street below us, and
they looked like a diminutive race. As I looked I thought the ground was
rather flat and level for a city, but we made up our minds it was a
great place. Some of the merchandise of all the world was there. We came
home feeling very well satisfied with our own city, Detroit. For the
beauty of its scenery and the location of the city I should give my
preference to the "City of the Straits."
Now I had gotten away
down east. I had rode a little ways on the outside of Cowper's wheel. We
had all got out of the carriage, in front of uncle's house, went up to
the door and knocked and all went in. I asked if Mr. Light lived there.
Uncle said he was the man. Aunt brought chairs for the ladies and they
sat down. She asked them if they would take off their things, they
refused, as much as to say, they, were not going to stop but a few
minutes. I asked uncle immediately, if he had some fat cattle to sell.
He said he had some oxen that he would sell, and we went out to look at
them. Of course I was more anxious to see how uncle appeared than I was
to see the cattle. They were in the barnyard near the house. I tried to
make uncle think, that I had cattle on the brain the most of anything. I
walked around them, viewed them, felt of them, started them along, asked
uncle how much they would weigh, &c. I kept a sly eye on uncle, to see
how much in earnest he was and how he looked. He was a portly, splendid
looking man. He appeared, to me, to be a good, hale, healthy, honest
farmer, well kept and one who enjoyed life. He would sell his property
if he got his price, not otherwise. He was rather austere and
independent about it. He asked me my name and where I was from. (This is
a trait of eastern men, down near Connecticut, to ask a man his name and
where he lives and, sometimes, where he is going.) I saw that uncle was
getting me in rather close quarters, but I talked away as fast as
possible, walking around and looking at the cattle. I asked him what he
would take for them, by the lump, I was trying to evade the questions,
that he had asked me.
I told him that my home
was wherever I happened to be, that I paid the cash for every thing
which I bought, that I had just come from Illinois, where I had
relatives, and down through Michigan. I told him that I was very well
acquainted in some parts of Michigan, that I had been in Canada and that
a great many people there called me a "Kentuckian;" and I didn't know as
it mattered what I was called so long as I was able to pay him for his
cattle. I wanted to know the least he would take for them; he told me.
Then I said, I would consider it, we would go to the house and see how
the ladies were getting along.
Going along I made up my
mind that uncle thought I was rather an eccentric drover. He seemed to
be interested in what I had said about Michigan and wanted to know
something about the country. When we went into the house, I saw that
mother was getting impatient and our livery driver sat there vet,
waiting to hear how it came out and to deliver our satchels.
Mr. Light, your name
sounds very familiar to me, I have heard the name, Light, often before.
Have you any relatives living in the West, He said he had two sisters
living in Michigan, in the town of Dearborn. Why, said I, I have been in
the town often and am well acquainted there. I know a good many of the
people. It is ten miles west of Detroit on the Chicago road. I saw he
began to take great interest in what I said. I asked if he thought he
would know one of his sisters if she were present. He said he thought he
would. I told him there was one there.
Then they threw off all
restraint and met as only loved ones can after so long a separation.
Uncle was overjoyed to see her again, upon earth, and mother was
delighted to see him and Aunt Betsey. The light of other days, youth and
happy associations of life flashed up before them in memory clear and
vivid, which touched the most sensitive chord of their hearts and caused
them to vibrate, in love for one another. They visited as only two who
love so well and have been separated so long can visit. Minds less
sensitive, than theirs, cannot imagine with what degree of intensity of
spirit and feeling, they told over to each other, first some of the
scenes of their youth, which they enjoyed together so many years before,
then the absence of loved ones dear to them both. A father, two brothers
and a sister had departed their life since mother moved to Michigan. Ah!
what changes thirty years had produced! Their voices, which mother had
heard so often there, she never would hear again and the smile of their
countenances would never greet her more. They were gone and their places
left vacant. A great many former acquaintances of mother had also
disappeared. They talked about the hardships they had endured while
apart and of some things they had enjoyed which were as bright spots, or
oases, in the desert of their separation.
Now as I was there, I
wished to visit the place where I had been in days of yore, in my
childhood. The places had changed some but I could go to every place I
remembered. The distance, from one place to another, didn't seem more
than half as far as I had it laid out in my mind.
The country appeared very
rough to me. What we used to call hills, looked to me like small
mountains. I supposed the reason was because I had been living so long
in a level country. The rocks and stones appeared larger and the stones
seemed to lie thicker on the ground than I had supposed. The ledges and
boulders appeared very strange to me I had been gone so long. I found
that the land was very natural for grass, where it wasn't too stony. It
produced excellent pasture upon the hillsides, good meadow on the bottom
and ridges, where it was smooth enough and not so stony but that it
could be mowed.
I went to see our old
spring. It was run- fling yet. Uncle had plenty of fruit. I looked for
the apple trees that I used to know and they had almost entirely
disappeared. I saw where they had raised good corn and potatoes on
uncle's place. Oats, that season, had been a very poor crop. Wheat,
uncle said they couldn't raise, but they could raise good crops of rye.
I passed by another school house where I had attended school. The same
building where I got one pretty warm whipping for failing to get a
lesson. The school buildings which I saw there both looked old and
dilapidated. I thought they looked poor in comparison to our common
school houses in Michigan. I had a good many cousins, who lived there,
scattered around. I went to see as many of them as I could. I had one
cousin, who lived off about four or five miles. I wished very much to
see her for I remembered her quite well we were young together. Uncle's
folks said she was married and lived on a ridge that they named. Cousin
Allen said he would go with me to see her, so we started. Before we got
there we had about a mile to go up hill. Cousin got along very well and
didn't seem to mind it, but it was up hill business for me to climb that
ridge. I wondered how teams could get up and down safely; they must have
understood ascending and descending better than our Michigan teams or,
it seemed to me, they would have got into trouble. We finally got on to
the top of what they called a ridge. I found some pretty nice table land
up there, for that country, and two or three farms. After we reached the
highest part of the ridge we stopped and I looked off at the scenery, it
appeared wild and strange. I could look north and see miles beyond where
uncle lived and see hills and ridges. I could look in every direction
and the same strange sights met my view. I think my cousin told me, that
to the southwest of us, we could see some of the mountains near the
North river. While I looked at the rugged face of the country, it didn't
seem hardly possible that that could be so old a country, and Michigan
so new.
West of us we could look
down into a hollow or valley. The flat appeared to be about eighty rods
wide, on the bottom between the ridges. West of the hollow there arose
another great ridge, like unto the one on which we stood. Along this
hollow there was a creek and a road running lengthwise with the hollow.
I saw a man, with a lumber wagon and horses, driving along the road;
from where I stood, and looked at them, they didn't appear larger than
Tom Thumb and his Shetland ponies.
We finally got to my
cousin's, I found that she had changed from a little girl to an elderly
woman. She was very glad to see me and wanted me to stay longer than I
felt inclined to, for I wanted to be back to the old home again, viewing
the scenes of my childhood as, to me, there was a sort of fascination
about them.
Up there I noticed a
small lake, near the top of the ridge. I thought it a strange place for
a lake. I asked cousin if there were fish in it, he said there were,
that they caught them there sometimes. I asked if the lake was deep; he
said in some parts of it they could not find bottom. I looked over it
away down into the hollow beyond, and thought there might be room enough
below for it to be bottomless; it might head in China for all I knew. As
I gazed I thought, can it be possible that this country appears so much
rougher, to me, than it used to, and yet be the same? As I stood and
peered away from one mountain and hill to another, at the gray and
sunburnt rocks, jagged ledges, precipices and the second growth of
scrubby timber, that dotted here and there and grew on the sides of
hills, where it was too stony and steep for cultivation, it astonished
me.
My friends appeared well
pleased with their native hills and vales and I have no doubt they
thought, as they expressed it to me, that they lived near the best
market and that New York was ahead. But the place how changed to me! If
I could have seen some wigwams and their half nude inhabitants, on the
hill sides, in the room of the houses of white men, and have witnessed
the waving of the feathery plume of the red man, above his long black
hair, I should have thought, from the view and the face of the land,
that that old country was very new and wild and that Michigan, where I
lived at least, was the old country after all.
Nature seemed to be
reversing the two countries. It appeared to me like the wild wild—west
Yosemite valley and mountains, or some other place. How strange! Here I
am standing upon my native soil. I used to think it was the brightest
spot upon this dim place men call earth.
In coming down the hill,
I had to be cautious how far I stepped, in order to keep upright, as I
was liable to move too fast, get up too much motion, I had to hold back
on myself and keep one knee at a time crooked. In that way I got safely
down. I was a little cautious, for I had on me scars made by falling on
stones and cutting myself, when near that place long years before, when
I was a little boy driving father's cows, to and fro, night and morning,
from the new place he bought, (the buying of which was one great reason
of our going to Michigan to find a new home and live where white men had
never lived before.)
I went back to uncle's
and told him, that I had made him a pretty good visit. I tried to get
him and some of the rest of my friends to promise me to go west and see
our country and judge of it for themselves. They said we western men had
to bring our produce, and whatever we had to sell, down to the New York
market, in order to dispose of it. I made up my mind, if New York was
the head and mouth of Uncle Sam, that his body and heart were in the
great central West, his hands upon the treasury at Washington and his
feet were of California, like unto polished gold, washed by the surf of
the Pacific Ocean. When Uncle Sam wished them wiped he could easily
place them on his snow topped foot-stool, the Rocky mountains, and Miss
Columbia, with a smile would wipe them with the clouds and dry them in
the winds of the Nevada, while she pillowed his head softly on the great
metropolis, New York, where the Atlantic breeze fans his brow and lets
him recline in his glory, the most rapidly risen representation of a
great nation that the world has ever seen.
When Uncle Sam brings his
hand from Washington it is full of green backs and gold, which he
scatters broadcast among his subjects. Here and there across the
continent it flies, like the leaves in autumn, so that it can be
gathered by persevering men, who till the soil or follow other pursuits
of industry. It is free for all who will get it honestly.
A little east and north
of the garden city, [The allusion is to Chicago which was formerly
called the Garden City, apparently because of the motto on the city
seal.] is Michigan, one of Uncle Sam's gardens. I think it is a
beautiful place, dotted here and there and nearly surrounded by great
fountains that sparkle, glimmer and shine, in the sun, like the rays of
the morning—beautiful garden. It is interspersed, here and there, with
groves of primeval evergreens and crossed now and then by beautiful
valleys and dotted by flowery walks and pleasant homes of the gardeners.
It abounds in picturesque scenery, has a very productive soil and helps
to furnish some of Uncle Sam's family, of about forty millions, with
many of the good things of life, even down in "Gotham." So we get some
of their money, from down there, if they are ahead of us and the head of
America. I am satisfied for one, to live in one of the peninsula gardens
of the West.
As my wife wished to
visit her native place on the Hudson River, we would have to stop there
a short time, and as my wife and brother wished to visit the city of New
York we bade goodby to uncle and his family and started. Took the
"Harlem Railroad" and in a short time were in the city. We put up at the
"Lovejoy Hotel" opposite the City Hall. We had rooms and everything
comfortable. We visited the Washington market and some of the ships that
lay in the harbor. We went on board one ocean steamer, went through it
and examined it. We crossed the river to Brooklyn. Visited Greenwood
Cemetery and saw all the sights we could conveniently, on that side of
the river. One night we visited Barnum's American Museum, after this we
went to see the Central Park and other places. We made up our minds that
we had seen a good deal and that New York was an immense city. |
