Omaha Terminus—Cross the Missouri—Council Bluffs—The Forest—Cross the Mississippi—The Cultivated Prairie—The Farmsteads and Villages—Approach to Chicago—The City of Chicago—Enterprise of its Men—The Water Tunnels under Lake Michigan—Tunnels under the River Chicago—Union of Lake Michigan with the Mississippi—Description of the Streets and Buildings of Chicago—Pigs and Corn—The Avenue—Sleighing—Theatres and Churches.

I have not much to tell about Omaha, for I did not make any long stay in the place, being anxious to get on and finish my journey. It was now my fifth day in the train, having come a distance of 1912 miles from San Francisco; and I had still another twenty-four hours' travel before me to Chicago. There was nothing to detain me in Omaha. It is like all places suddenly made by railway, full of bustle and business, but by no means picturesque. How can it be? The city is only seventeen years old. Its principal buildings are manufactories, breweries, warehouses, and hotels.

Omaha has been made by the fact of its having been fixed upon as the terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad, and by its convenient position on the great Missouri river. It occupies a sloping upland on the right bank, about fifty feet above the level of the stream; and behind it stretches the great Prairie country we have just traversed. On the opposite bank of the Missouri stands Council Bluffs, from which various railroad lines diverge north, south, and east, to all parts of the Union. It is probable, therefore, that before many years have passed, big though Omaha may now be—and it already contains 20,000 inhabitants—the advantages of its position will tend greatly to swell its population, and perhaps to render it in course of time one of the biggest cities of the West.

(Map of Atlantic and Pacific Railways) Reduced from a Map in Mr. Rae's (Map of Atlantic and Pacific Railways) Reduced from a Map in Mr. Rae's

Having arranged to proceed onwards to Chicago by the North-Western line, I gave up my baggage in exchange for the usual check, and took my place in the train. We rolled down a steepish incline, on to the "mighty Missouri," which we crossed upon a bridge of boats. I should not have known that I was upon a deep and rapid river, but for the huge flat-bottomed boats that I saw lying frozen in along the banks. It was easy to mistake the enormous breadth of ice for a wide field covered with snow. As we proceeded across we met numbers of sledges, coaches, and omnibuses driving over the ice along a track made in the deep snow not far from our bridge.

'Westward by Rail.' Longmans. 1871. 'Westward by Rail.' Longmans. 1871.

After passing through Council Bluffs, we soon lost sight of the town and its suburbs, and were again in the country. But how different the prospect from the car window, compared with the bare and unsettled prairies which we had traversed for so many hundred miles west of Omaha! Now, thick woods extend on both sides of the track, with an occasional cleared space for a township, where we stop to take up and set down passengers. But I shall not proceed further with my description of winter scenery as viewed from a passing railway train. Indeed, I fear that my descriptions heretofore, though rapid, must be felt somewhat monotonous, for which I crave the reader's forgiveness.

I spent my fifth night in the train pretty comfortably, having contrived to makeup a tolerable berth. Shortly after I awoke, we crossed the Mississippi on a splendid bridge at Fulton. What a noble river it is! Here, where it must be fifteen hundred miles from its mouth, it seemed to me not less than a mile across. Like the Missouri, however, it is now completely frozen over and covered with thick snow.

We are again passing through a prairie country, the fertile land of upper Illinois, all well settled and cultivated. We pass a succession of fine farms and farmsteads. The fields are divided by rail fences; and in some places stalks of maize peep up through the snow. The pretty wooden houses are occasionally half hidden by the snow-laden trees amidst which they stand. These Illinois clusters of country-houses remind one very much of England, they look so snug and homelike; and they occupy a gently undulating country,—lovely, no doubt, in summer time. But the small towns we passed could never be mistaken for English. They are laid out quite regularly, each house with its little garden surrounding it; the broad streets being planted with avenues of trees.

The snow is lying very heavy on the ground; and there are drifts we pass through full twenty feet deep on either side the road. But the day is fine, the sky is clear and blue, the sun shines brightly, and the whole scene looks much more cheerful than the Rocky Mountain region in the west.

Very shortly, evidences appear of our approach to a considerable place. In fact, we are nearing Chicago. But long before we reach it, we pass a succession of pretty villas and country-houses, quite in the English suburban style, with gardens, shrubberies, and hothouses. These are the residences of the Chicago merchants. The houses become more numerous, and before long we are crossing streets and thoroughfares, the engine snorting slowly along, and the great bell ringing to warn all foot-passengers off the track.

What an immense smoky place we have entered: so different from the pure snow-white prairie country we have passed. It looks just like another Manchester. But I suspect we have as yet traversed only the manufacturing part of the city, as the only buildings heretofore visible are small dwelling-houses and manufactories. At length we pull up in the station, and find ourselves safely landed in Chicago.

Oh, the luxury of a good wash after a continuous journey of two thousand four hundred miles by rail! What a blessing cold water is, did we but know it. The luxury, also, of taking off one's clothes to sleep in a bed, after five nights' rolling about in railway cars,—that also is a thing to be enjoyed once in a lifetime! But, for the sake of the pleasure, I confess I have no particular desire to repeat the process.

And now for the wonders of Chicago. It is really a place worth going a long way to see. It exhibits the enterprise of the American people in its most striking light. Such immense blocks of buildings forming fine broad streets, such magnificent wharves and warehouses, such splendid shops, such handsome churches, and such elegant public buildings! One can scarcely believe that all this has been the work of little more than thirty years.

It is true, the situation of Chicago at the head of Lake Michigan, with a great fertile country behind it, has done much for the place; but without the men, Chicago would have been nothing. It is human industry and energy that have made it what it is. Nothing seems too bold or difficult for the enterprise of Chicago men. One of their most daring but successful feats was in altering the foundation level of the city. It was found that the business quarter was laid too low—that it was damp, and could not be properly drained. It was determined to raise the whole quarter bodily from six to eight feet higher! And the extraordinary feat was accomplished with the help of screw-jacks, safely and satisfactorily.

With the growth of population—and its increase was most rapid (from 4000 persons in 1837 to about 350,000 at the present time)—the difficulty of obtaining pure water steadily increased. There was pure water enough in the lake outside, but along shore it was so polluted by the sewage that it could not be used with safety. Two methods were adopted to remedy this evil. One was, to make Artesian wells 700 feet deep, which yield about a million gallons of pure water per day; but another, and much bolder scheme, was undertaken, that of carrying a tunnel under the bed of the lake, two miles out, into perfectly pure water; and this work was successfully accomplished and completed on the 25th of March, 1867, when the water was let into the tunnel to flow through the pipes and quadrants of the city. Thus 57 million gallons of water per day could be supplied to the inhabitants.

Another important and daring work was that involved in carrying the traffic of the streets from one side of the Chicago river (which flows through the city) to the other, without the interference of bridges. This was accomplished by means of tunnels constructed beneath the bed of the river. The first tunnel was carried across from Washington Street to the other side some years since; it was arched with brick, floored with timber, and lighted with gas. The second, lower down the same river, was still in progress at the period of my visit to the city in March last, and is not yet completed. By means of these tunnels the traffic of the streets will be sufficiently accommodated, without any interruption by the traffic of the river,—large ships proceeding directly up to the wharves above to load and unload their cargoes.

But the boldest project of all remains to be mentioned. It is neither more nor less than the cutting down of the limestone ridge which intervenes between the head-waters of the River Chicago and those of the River Illinois, which flows into the Mississippi. The water supply being still found insufficient, the carrying out of a second tunnel into deep water under the bed of the lake was projected. It then occurred to the Chicago engineers that a more simple method would be, instead of going out into the lake for the pure water, to make the pure water come to them. The sewage-laden stream of the Chicago river now flowed north into the lake; would it not be practicable, by cutting down the level inland, to make it flow south, and thus bring the pure water of the lake in an abundant stream past their very doors?

This scheme has actually been carried out! The work was in progress while I was there, and I observe that it has since been completed. The limestone plateau to the south of Chicago has been cut down at a cost of about three millions of dollars; and an abundant supply of pure water has thus been secured to the town for ever. But the cutting of this artificial river for the purpose of water supply has opened up another and a much larger question. It is, whether by sufficiently deepening the bed, a channel may not be formed for large ocean-going ships, so that Chicago may be placed in direct water communication with the Gulf of Mexico, as it now is with the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Should this project, which was freely spoken of when I was at Chicago, be carried out, it may lead to very important consequences. While it may have the effect of greatly promoting the prosperity of Chicago, it may also have an altogether different result. "The letting out of waters" is not always a safe thing; and the turning of the stream, or any considerable part of the stream which now passes over the falls of Niagara, into the bed of the Mississippi—whose swollen waters are sometimes found sufficiently unmanageable as it is—might have a very extraordinary and even startling effect upon the low-lying regions at the mouth of that great river. But this is a point that must be left for geologists and engineers to speculate about and to settle.

Shortly after my arrival in Chicago, I went out for a wander in the streets. I was accompanied by the Hotel "tout" who soon gave me his history. He had been a captain in the English army, had run through all his money, and come here to make more. He had many reminiscences to relate of his huntings in Leicestershire, of his life in the army, of his foolish gamblings, of his ups and downs in America, and his present prospects. Nothing daunted by his mishaps, he was still full of hope. He was an agent for railways, agent for a billiard-table manufacturer and for several patents, and believed he should soon be a rich man again. But no one, he said, had any chance in Chicago, unless he was prepared to work, and to work hard. "A man," he observed, "must have his eyes peeled to make money; as for the lazy man, he hasn't the ghost of a chance here."

My guide took me along the principal streets, which were full of traffic and bustle, the men evidently intent upon business, pushing on, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. The streets are mostly stone-paved, and, in spite of the heavy snow which has fallen, they are clean and well kept. We passed the City Hall, the Chamber of Commerce, and the Post Office—all fine buildings. In the principal streets, the houses are five stories high, with handsome marble fronts. The office of the 'Chicago Tribune,' situated at the corner of one of the chief thoroughfares, is a splendid pile with a spacious corner entrance. The Potter Palmer block, chiefly occupied as a gigantic draper's shop—here called a Dry Goods' Store—is an immense pile of buildings, with massive marble front handsomely carved. But the building which promises shortly to overtop all others in Chicago, is the Pacific Hotel, now in course of erection,—an enormous structure, covering an acre and a half of ground, with a frontage of 325 feet, and a height of 104 feet. It is expected to be the largest and finest building in the city, until something else is projected to surpass and excel it.

In my progress through the streets I came upon two huge steam cranes at work, hoisting up stuff from a great depth below. I was told that this was the second tunnel in course of construction underneath the bed of the river to enable the traffic to pass across without the necessity for bridges. The stream over the tunnel was busy with shipping. In one street I passed a huge pile of dead pigs in front of a sausage shop. They go in pigs and come out sausages. Pork is one of the great staples of the place; the number of pigs slaughtered in Chicago being something enormous. The pig-butcheries and pork stores are among the largest buildings in the city. My guide assures me that at least a pig a second is killed and dressed in Chicago all the year through. Another street was occupied by large stores of grain, fruit, and produce of all kinds. The pathways were filled with farmers and grain brokers, settling bargains and doing business. And yet it was not market day, when the streets are far more crowded and full of bustle.

Some idea of the enormous amount of business in grain done in Chicago may be formed from the fact that in one year, 1868, sixty-eight million bushels of grain were shipped from its wharves. It is the centre of the grain trade of the States; lines of railway concentre upon it from all parts of the interior; and, by means of shipping, the produce is exported to the Eastern States, to Great Britain, or to any other part of the world where it is needed.

The street cars go jingling along with their heavy loads of passengers. A continual stream of people keeps coming and going. There are many young ladies afoot, doing their shopping; enveloped in furs, and some with white scarfs—or "clouds" as they are called—round their heads. Loud advertisements, of all colours, shapes, and sizes, abound on every side. Pea-nut sellers at their stands on the pavement invite the passers-by to purchase, announcing that they roast fresh every half-hour. What amused me, in one of the by-streets from which the frozen snow had not been removed, was seeing a number of boys skating along at full speed.

Fronting the lake is the fashionable avenue of the city. Here, nice detached houses range along the broad road for miles. Trees shade the carriage-way, which in summer must look beautiful. Now all is covered with hard-frozen snow, over which the sleigh-bells sound merrily as the teams come dashing along. Here comes a little cutter with a pretty black pony, which trots saucily past, and is followed by a grand double-seated sleigh drawn by three splendid greys. Other sleighs, built for lightness and speed, are drawn by fast-trotting horses, in which the Americans take so much delight. The object of most of the young men who are out sleighing seems to be to pass the sleigh in front of them, so that some very smart racing is usually to be seen along the Avenue drive.

As might be expected from the extent and wealth of its population, Chicago is well supplied with places of amusement. I observe that Christine Nilsson is here at present, and she is an immense favourite. There are also many handsome stone churches in the city, which add much to the fine appearance of the place. But I had neither time to visit the theatres nor the churches, as my time in Chicago was already up, and I, accordingly, made arrangements for pursuing my journey eastward.[17]

Niagara Falls—American Side. Niagara Falls—American Side.