On reaching Chicago we left “the overland train,” with the object of paying a short visit to Niagara. The last stage of our long ride was from Omaha, during which we crossed the Missouri and Mississippi. There being three competing lines to Chicago the pace became greatly accelerated, so much so that during a considerable portion of the long ride it was almost impossible to stand on one’s feet, and the country being very dry, the train was enveloped in a cloud of dust almost the whole of the way. We had, however, one compensation, for attached to the train was a well-appointed dining-car, with first-rate cuisine. The viands were of the choicest quality, and in great variety. Moreover, the speed of the train was slackened during meals, an arrangement affording a degree of comfort unknown on the Pacific Line. The bill of fare is a curiosity in its way, being garnished with appetising mottoes and sentiments, such as, “As you journey through life live by the way,” “Eat and be satisfied,” and concluding with an expression of belief that passengers would appreciate this new feature of “Life on the Road.”

In going through Chicago we were much surprised by the fine and substantial-looking buildings in every part of the city. There are fifty to one hundred streets, any one of which is equal to the best in London; indeed, it struck me as being more of a city than any place I had ever been in. We observed a whole block of buildings, including a bank on the ground floor, and offices above, being removed bodily without any disturbance of the business operations going on in it. The water for the city supply is taken from Lake Michigan through a pipe which extends two miles into the lake. The capacity of the pumping engines is seventy-five millions of gallons per day, the greatest demand being forty-five millions. During the last few years there have been many disastrous fires in Chicago, directly traceable to the general employment of timber not only in buildings, but for the side walks and roadways. The broad streets referred to above are, however, constructed of a fine warm-coloured sandstone, and all the new streets are being made of the same material. Nevertheless, a considerable number of timber houses remain, constituting a standing danger to the city. While in Chicago I found my passport useful. On going to the bank to get some money on my Letter of Credit the manager told me they had not received a copy of my signature from the bank in England, and that in its absence they could not honour my draft. It was in vain that I showed him my watch and other articles having my name engraved upon them. He looked at them as though he thought there were various ways of getting possession of such articles. I told him I regretted I had not been born with my name on my person, but I was not accountable for the omission. I then thought of my passport, and although he appeared to think that it was possible to obtain possession of that improperly, he accepted it with the remark that “even that is not conclusive,” for it should have had a description of my person. We stayed at the Grand Pacific Hotel, which formed a great contrast to the Palace Hotel at San Francisco, being uncomfortable and badly administered.

At Detroit we cross the frontier into Canada, travelling over the Great Western Railway to Niagara. This line was constructed by English contractors, and the superiority of the work is manifested in the smooth, steady motion of the carriages. Compared with the lines we had previously traversed this was most comfortable. We pass through London, Paris, and other places with equally celebrated names, greatly enjoying the forest scenery, numerous clearings and bright little homesteads dotted over the country; and for the first time since leaving England seeing lovely green fields such as we have at home. At Niagara we stopped at the famous Clifton House, where we were joined by friends from England.

Our impressions of Niagara were those common to most visitors—first, a feeling of disappointment, soon succeeded, however, by an ever-increasing sense of the immensity and magnificence of the Falls, which grows upon one the more one sees them.A sentiment of disgust, however, is inspired by the ruthless desecration of the most beautiful spots by Yankee manufacturers, who have chosen such picturesque positions for their smoky factories.

Under the Falls, Niagara

Another annoyance constantly experienced is from the peripatetic photographer, who endeavours to persuade you that you are greater than the “Falls.” The Falls, indeed, are made to seem a mere background to your photograph, in which he is careful to show you nearest the camera, and hence proportionately by far the most imposing object.

To get into Canada we have to cross the suspension bridge. Going over one day we purchased about £1 worth of photographs of Canadian scenery. On returning with them we were accosted by the American customs officer, who mulcted us in nearly twenty shillings duty. On entering his office to obtain a receipt we observed a “six-shooter” at his right hand, presumably for the purpose of persuasion. On leaving the place I met an American policeman and told him what a shabby transaction it was for the representatives of so great a country. He replied that he guessed the officer must raise his salary. I refrain from any attempt to describe the mighty Falls of Niagara.

On our way to New York we travelled by railway to Albany, the capital of the State of New York, passing through Syracuse, Rome, and Utica, along the shores of Lake Ontario, although from the lowering of the ground and the abundance of trees we were unable to see the lake; thence alongside the Falls River, through very charmingly diversified country with numerous valleys going up from the waterside, well-timbered, and here and there a clearing with open green fields. The houses are in most cases mean-looking plank erections, presenting a very weather-beaten appearance, some painted a very dark red colour. In the evening we reached Albany, an old Dutch town of over two hundred years, and very Dutch-looking it is with its queer red-brick houses, wooden pavements, and trees along the streets, and frequent peeps of the river here and there. Amongst the finest public buildings are those devoted to the national schools, a true gauge of the importance the citizens attach to the education of the people. On our way to New York we had an opportunity of taking a day’s sail on the River Hudson in one of the celebrated American river-boats. Going on board we found ourselves on a veritable floating palace. The steamer was a three-decker, two of the decks being covered with splendid carpets, and fitted with arm-chairs of a most comfortable pattern, and with velvet-covered ottomans and couches in all directions. Taking up one of the books from the well-stocked bookstall I saw it purported to be one of a series of standard works by American authors, and on looking down the list I observed the names of Tennyson, Barry Cornwall, and others. Our American cousins were always great at annexation, and the only wonder is they do not call their mother tongue the “American language.”

The Americans seem anxious that everyone shall admit that the Hudson is finer than any other river in the world. I have been down the Elbe, through the Saxon Switzerland, also down the Danube and the Rhine. The Hudson is far more beautiful than the Rhine. The banks are thickly wooded, and the villages and country houses prettily situated. It is true that the Hudson lacks the romantic associations of the Rhine, but even in this respect it is not altogether wanting, for does it not possess the Catskill Mountains, with their legend of Rip Van Winkle? But I like the Danube best; its banks are loftier and more rugged, and are covered with pines, and from its comparative narrowness one can see both sides at once. Then again, the ancient towns and monasteries jutting out on the spits of land are infinitely more interesting than the wooden houses along the Hudson. Again, the Elbe, especially in the Saxon Switzerland, is decidedly more beautiful than the Hudson; but for all this the latter is a river of which a nation may well be proud, and we greatly enjoyed our sail upon it.

The Pallisades, Hudson RiverOn a subsequent visit to the Hudson we landed at West Point, the seat of the celebrated military academy founded by Washington, where there are some hundreds of students. Our hotel was situated about two miles from the academy, and overlooked the river from an eminence of about two hundred feet. The river can be seen for some miles winding between steep banks on both sides. The morning after our arrival was a Sunday, and the church bells were ringing for service. There are two opposition churches here, but I have reason to believe they are very charitable to one another; at all events their respective bell-ringers do not believe in the jarring of the sects, for I notice that first one rings out one—two—three—four; then a decent pause, and his neighbour likewise rings out one—two—three—four, and so the celestial harmonies are not disturbed.

On the opposite bank of the river is a place historic in the annals of the Revolution, for here it was that the American General Arnold was stationed while he was carrying on his treasonable correspondence with the ill-fated Major AndrÉ. Arnold was sitting at breakfast with his officers and some guests when word was brought him that AndrÉ was captured as a spy by the Americans. Knowing he would surely be incriminated, Arnold pretended he was wanted below on urgent business, and, going down to Beverley landing, he ordered his men to row him to the British man-of-war lying in the river. Poor AndrÉ, it will be remembered, was hanged by order of Washington. His bust was placed in Westminster Abbey; three times since then has it been mutilated by miscreants. Walking through the village we observed a mean-looking tumble-down tenement, with an equally mean-looking signboard stuck upon it, bearing this inscription:—“John Scales, Justice of the Peace, Notary Public.” His “Honour” was sitting inside, in his shirt-sleeves, with a white apron on, while behind him on a shelf were a few old dry-as-dust books, of the law I suppose. The whole place looked totally at variance with our ideas of the majesty of the law; indeed it suggested that “justice” could be had for the buying, and that no one was expected to pay much regard to the decision of such a court. On returning to the hotel I spoke of this functionary to the negro waiter, suggesting that he dealt in justice, “Yes, sah; I guess a dollar will go a long way with him,” replied he.

John Scales, Justice of the Peace

Ascending the mountain we came across an old man at work on the roads. He was a German, having come to America in 1841. He served in the Mexican war, and one of his sons was killed in the war against the Southern rebels. The old man said it was hard work mending roads, and that the winters were very severe, “but,” said he, “it is a free country, and that makes up for all. In Germany a man dares not open his mouth, but here one can say what one likes.”

Passing by a farmyard our curiosity was aroused by seeing the stock of poultry secured by the leg to the fence. As we had often heard in our travels in the States that this was “a great country,” we presume this was an expedient adopted to prevent the fowls straying and being lost. Of course, England being so small, such precautions are not necessary.

We returned to New York in another of the celebrated river-boats.

During my stay in the States there were two great subjects which monopolised public attention. These were the Centennial Exhibition which had just been opened: and the wave of corruption among officials and others which was sweeping over the land. More space was occupied in the Press by charges of malversation and fraud on the part of the officials, from the President down to the lowest civil service clerks, and from them through all grades of society, than with the Exhibition itself or with any other subject, while the talk in the streets seemed to be about nothing else. In alluding to the unlawful gains made in this way by many prominent citizens, a New York paper made use of a sentiment of Mark Twain to the effect that whereas in times past folks used to say “poor but honest,” now-a-days when you see a rich man who has accumulated money in a proper way it is said that he is “rich but honest.”I have travelled in many countries, but in almost everything have found America twice as dear as any other country. The charges are simply monstrous. Having to go from an hotel to the steam wharf, we were not permitted to take our very modest amount of luggage in the omnibus with us, although we had the vehicle all to ourselves; but the hotel people insisted upon sending it in a special wagon, charging two dollars for what a cabman in Birmingham would willingly have done for a shilling. On board the steamer we were charged six shillings each for a plain dinner, without wine, which in England would not have cost more than 1s. 6d. Bound books are equally dear. Pocket volumes, containing not more than one-sixth of the matter in a shilling volume of Chambers’ “Miscellany of Entertaining Tracts,” were charged two shillings each. Most of the newspapers, also, are very inferior to, yet much dearer than, the English papers. Another form of extortion is to be found in the impossibility, in many hotels, of obtaining information as to the sailing of river-boats, departure of trains, etc., the only apparent explanation being a desire to give “touts” and “loungers,” of whom there are many, opportunities of extorting money. These fellows seem to know nothing unless they can hear the dollars chink, or see the dirty greenbacks (and some of them are very dirty). A fellow once gave me in change a dollar note which was so filthy that scarcely a word was legible upon it. It looked as though it might contain smallpox or typhoid, so I asked him to wash it. He said he guessed he would—for a dollar.Against all this, I am bound to say that the charges made by the steamboat companies and most of the railways are exceedingly moderate, and their arrangements in connection with baggage most convenient. On arriving at any of the large cities by river-boat, the agent of the Luggage Express Company comes on board and takes possession of your baggage, giving vouchers for it. He also undertakes to collect any baggage you may have sent to the City Railway Station from distant parts of the country, and very soon after you arrive at your hotel it is brought to you. At the landing stages in such cities as New York there are numbers of cabs, mostly driven by Irishmen, and when they find you have disposed of your luggage and do not require their services, they give vent to their disgust in no measured terms, and if the traveller is a Britisher, he is soon reminded of the fact.

The mode of dealing with baggage on the railway is almost equally convenient. The following will give some idea of it. You are travelling, say, from Aberdeen to Penzance, intending ultimately to proceed by way of London to Dover, and do not require the bulk of your luggage till you arrive at the latter place. On leaving Aberdeen, the Baggage Master takes your superfluous luggage, putting brass labels upon it, thus—

ABERDEEN—DOVER.
846.

giving you corresponding labels, after which you have no further occasion to trouble yourself in the matter until you get to Dover.

We visited the Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia for the purpose of inspecting the various productions corresponding to our own, hoping, indeed expecting, to find something which would repay us for coming. We were, indeed, repaid, but in a sense totally opposed to what we expected, for we found that so far from Americans being in advance of the English, they were, in many cases, taking credit for so-called “improvements” (claiming them as novelties), which we had been familiar with, and had used in our own works many years before. They appear to be strangely unaware of what has been done in European countries, and a single instance will illustrate this. The machinery in the Exhibition was driven by a single large steam-engine. The newspapers made a great deal of this engine, declaring that it was the largest in the world, and that it had been made in the smallest State—Rhode Island. An American engineer with evident pride took us to see the big engine, which, after all, had a cylinder of only 70in. diameter. We told him that five-and-twenty years before a small engineering firm in Cornwall, England, had made several engines with cylinders 144in. in diameter, and which are yet at work.

We were permitted to inspect some of the most important engineering establishments, and found the tools of such an inferior character that our only wonder was that they could produce either good or cheap work. In most cases the floors of the workshops were inches deep in ferruginous dust. Under such conditions every time a heavy casting is dropped on the floor a cloud of dust must rise, and entering the bearings of the tools, cut them up badly. We found many of the tools actually wedged up because of this.An American manufacturer speaking to me of a visit he had paid to the Exhibition in company with his foreman, told me how astonished the latter was at the excellence of the European exhibits. He said he had no idea they could make the things half so well, “for,” he said, “they are almost as good as ours,” and, I added, “only one half the cost.”

The agricultural machinery was exhibited in a separate building erected specially for its reception, and here the Americans were unmistakably far ahead of all competitors.

At the time of our visit several consignments of calicoes had been made to England and to various British markets, and sold at prices considerably below what they could be produced at by English manufacturers. This incursion occasioned great disquietude in England until the cause was manifested—viz., overproduction. On this point I read an article in a New York Protectionist paper intended as an answer to the Free Trade argument, that Protection increased the price of goods. The article stated that this was not so: and to prove its position said that the tendency of Protection was to induce people to go into manufacturing who know little or nothing of the processes they were undertaking, but who fancy that with the tariff of from 40 per cent. to 80 per cent. upon foreign goods, there must necessarily be a sufficient margin to compensate for mistakes caused by their inexperience. “And so it happens,” continues the writer, “that there is great over-production, ruinous competition among American manufacturers, frequent failures, and consequently large stocks of goods are forced on the markets at a great loss, the public getting cheap supplies in consequence.” Adam Smith would scarcely have quoted this as one of the methods of adding to the wealth of nations. But if the people at large obtain their cotton goods cheaper through this system of over-production, it is clear that the millowners are not the only sufferers, for it appears from a speech delivered by Mr. Shearman of New York, at the Cobden Club dinner in the present year (1883), that the wages of the factory operatives are twenty per cent. less than in Lancashire, while their hours of labour are from eighteen to twenty per cent. longer.

During the late Fair Trade agitation its advocates were never tired of telling the English working-classes that under Protection their brethren in America were prospering in a remarkable degree, but in the speech to which I have referred Mr. Shearman shows that the average wages in protected trades are actually less than in 1860, the last year of comparative Free Trade, and that while in the ten years previous, wages were constantly increasing, during the succeeding twenty years (1860–1880) there was no appreciable advance, while during the past three years they have been steadily declining; so that here we have one of the staple trades of the country requiring longer hours of labour from the operatives, at considerably lower wages than for the same class in England, while the cost of living is much higher than in this country, and the climate much more trying from the extremes of heat and cold.

Nor is this all, for the American operatives have very much less relaxation than the same class in England, their holidays being very much fewer. Last year my workpeople, in addition to fifty-two Saturday afternoons, had nineteen whole days, although there was abundance of work for them, and the necessities of the business only required six days closing of the works. The English artisan loves to have a deal of liberty, and his earnings enable him to indulge his desire in that respect.

As may be supposed, the ranks of the operatives in the cotton mills of America receive no accession from England, but only from Germany and Scandinavia, where wages are low, and the oppressive military systems drive people from their native countries.

During the last seven years of depression in trade in England it is well known that, taken as a whole, the working classes have suffered comparatively little, the loss falling mainly upon manufacturers, whose profits have been greatly lessened. But how would the working-classes have fared if, in addition to the loss of home trade involved in the failure of the crops for so many years, the same causes were in operation which make it impossible for America to have a great foreign trade?

It is manifest that so long as Protection exists in the United States exports must necessarily be confined almost entirely to such commodities as other countries cannot produce. Until recently the home demand has kept the manufacturers in the States well employed; but competition has now become exceedingly fierce, and they are beginning to tread upon each other’s heels. It is this state of things which is destined to exert the most potent influence upon the fate of Protection. The very class which has hitherto been loudest in demanding prohibitory duties upon imports, will soon, from sheer necessity, be found demanding their removal.It is worthy of note, too, that while under Protection the earnings of the producing class have been steadily declining, colossal fortunes, amounting in one case to twenty or thirty millions sterling, have been built up by individual monopolists. On the other hand, during the same period and under Free Trade, there has been a wider distribution of material comfort in England, and, as shown by the official returns, a decided decrease in the number of millionaires.

In passing through America on my return from Australia in 1876, I expressed the opinion that Free Trade there would be by no means an unmixed blessing for English manufacturers, for whereas at the present time a vessel going to Australia from the United States with a cargo of goods has to come back in ballast, doubling the cost of freight, under Free Trade it would take back a cargo of wool, and the Americans would consequently become our competitors both in buying and selling.

With the single exception of having higher wages—and this advantage is more than balanced by the extra cost of living—I have failed to find that American artisans are in any way better off than the English, while, as I have already shown, their hours of labour are longer and the effect of the climate much more exhausting.

A very striking feature to be met with in most American cities and towns is the large number of tolerably respectable-looking men loafing about and doing nothing. In England such men, only in shabbier dress, would be called “cadgers.” I am told there are large numbers who prefer any shifty mode of obtaining a living so long as they can wear a black coat and avoid honest labour. In the villages along the banks of the Hudson I saw more children without shoes and stockings than are to be met with in any part of England in a similar area. They go to school shoeless, and a woman told me that when shoes were put on their feet on Sundays they complained loudly. A land of freedom for tongue and foot!

During the Southern rebellion fears were expressed that the result of emancipation would be to flood the markets of the North with negro labour, but this does not appear to have been the case. As long as slavery existed the North was attractive to the negro as the land of freedom, but when freedom was proclaimed throughout the States the negro naturally elected to remain where he had always been—the climate and surroundings being well suited to him. The head waiter at our hotel at West Point was a slave in Richmond until the middle of the war, when he escaped to Washington. I asked him how he got there. “Oh, by the underground railway,” said he. It took him a week to travel the hundred miles, and he had many narrow escapes, but was fortunate enough to come out all right and to get a situation to wait upon one of Abraham Lincoln’s sons. He told me his owner, a lady, taught him to read and write in face of the certainty of being sent to jail in case of being discovered. His father was sold away down south sixteen years before, but since that day they had again met at Richmond. “Well,” I said, “neither Jeff. Davis nor any of his crew will ever play you such pranks again.” “No Sir,” said he.

The regulation of the liquor traffic in the American cities appears to present as many difficulties as it does in England, especially as regards the Sunday traffic. The Sunday before we left New York the police made a raid upon the liquor dealers in the city, and arrested a number of them for selling during prohibited hours. Their organs threatened all sorts of reprisals at the coming election, and a meeting of the trade was called to condemn the action of the authorities. Most of the requisitionists—judging by their names—were either German or Irish. At the time appointed some hundreds of liquor dealers assembled, and presently a gentleman came on the platform and began to address them. Soon, however, it began to dawn upon the trade that they had been somewhat considerably sold, for the speaker gave them a regular teetotal lecture, enlarging upon the evils the dealers were responsible for, and warning them to forsake their wicked ways. The audience could not stand this, and threatened the orator that if he didn’t “make tracks right away” they would give him “something hot,” upon which he quietly retired, having given them the first temperance lecture they had ever heard.

Our visit to America was brought to a fitting termination by another glorious excursion on the Hudson: after which it was with great pleasure and satisfaction that we went on board one of the splendid White Star Liners, soon to land again on the shores of dear old England.