THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
had been fried in rancid salt pork and were richly garnished with boiled onions; besides this there was nothing but sour bread and the greenish fluid, now again called coffee. This was a terrible blow, from which we could rally only by hoping for better luck somewhere else. We expedited our departure with nervous energy. Mr. Grow and I had to travel together to the next place, the name of which I have forgotten. Our drivers being ignorant of the road, the landlord pointed out a wagon track which we should follow until we struck “old man Evans's barn,” then turn to the right and we would “get there.” We actually did “get there” after a rough ride of many hours, tired and very hungry. Whenever I met Mr. Grow in later years we never failed to remember our gay campaigning day in the “City of Lexington,” and “old man Evans's barn.”
My return home from Minnesota was no less characteristic of the Western country than the campaign had been. I took passage on a Mississippi steamboat down to La Crosse. Steamboat travel on the Western rivers, which was soon to be affected by the competition of railroads, was then still in full bloom. Most of the passenger boats were large and fitted out in a style which at that period was thought to be gorgeous. Many of them served breakfasts, dinners, and suppers that appeared excellent to an unsophisticated taste, and there prevailed ordinarily a tone of hilarious animation among the passengers. On the river south of St. Louis and on the Missouri the clatter of the pokerchip and, occasionally, also the crack of a pistol formed part of the entertainment. On the upper Mississippi such things were not so customary and the passengers indulged themselves in more harmless amusements, although, it must be admitted, betting sometimes was lively. I have forgotten the name of the fine boat on which I traveled, but will call her the “Flying Cloud.”
[ 152 ]
