THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
achievements of science, and the aims and appliances of humanitarian movements. I was often astonished at the eager activity of the minds and the largeness of ideas disclosed by school teachers and small country tradesmen, and village doctors and little lawyers practicing before justices of the peace in country court houses, in the conversations I had with them, and at the earnest endeavor of the women to cultivate, in their simple way, refining influences in their households and their family life. That many things were done which the cynic might hold up to ridicule is true. But the sympathetic observer could see in those debating clubs, and philosophical societies, and literary circles, in which the small towns and villages abounded, the growing processes of people great in intellectual and moral energy.
Those lecturing tours were sometimes enlivened by rather rough adventures, one of which I remember very vividly, for I have often told this story to my children and friends. I once delivered a lecture in Burlington, one of the river cities of Iowa, and in order to meet my next appointment I had to cross the Mississippi early the next morning to reach a railroad station on the Illinois side. The public had for weeks passed over the ice in wagons and sleighs, and I expected to do the same. In fact, there was no other way to get across the river. But spring was approaching, and, as warm weather had prevailed for several days, it was thought that the ice would not hold much longer, though it was still considered safe. We got up at five o'clock in the morning and took a very frugal breakfast by lamp-light. I say “we,” for there were about twenty men, mostly commercial travelers, I think, who also wanted to catch a morning train in Illinois. At the door stood the omnibus that was to carry us over. When we had reached the river edge, the driver dismounted and had a
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