Authors, American -- 19th century -- Biography; Leland, Charles Godfrey, 1824-1903
So we started and after a few hours' travel, stopped at Altona. There I
was very much amused by an old darkey at the railway-station hotel, who
had, as he declared, "specially the kyar of de ladies an' quality." He
had been a slave till the war broke out, and had been wondrously favoured
by visions and revelations which guided him to freedom. "De Lawd he
'pear to me in a dream, an' I hyar a vi'ce which cry, 'Simon, arise an'
git out of dis, an' put fo' de Norf as fass as you kin travel, fo' de day
of de 'pressor is at an end, an' you is to be free.' So I rosed an'
fled, hardly a-waitin' to stuff my bag wid some corn-dodgers an' bacon,
an' foller de Norf Star till I git confused an' went to sleep agin, wen,
lo, an angel expostulated hisself befo' my eyes in a wision, an' say,
'Simon, beholdes' dou dat paff by de riber? Dat's de one fo' you to
foller, ole son!' So I follers it till I git on de right trail. Den I
met anoder nigger a-'scapin' from the bon's of captivity, an' carryin' a
cold ham, an' I jined in wid him--you bet--an' so we come to de Lawd's
country."
And so gaily on to Chicago. We went directly to the first hotel, and as
soon as I had toiletted and gone below, I saw on the opposite building a
sign with the words _Chicago Tribune_. This was an exchange of ours, so
I crossed over, and meeting the editor by chance in the doorway, was
welcomed and introduced to Governor Desbrosses, who stood by. Then I
went to a telegraph office and sent a despatch to the _Press_. The man
wanted me to pay. I told him to C. O. D., "collect on delivery." He
declined. I said, "Your principal office is in Philadelphia, is it
not?--Third and Chestnut Streets. Just send a telegram and ask the name
of your landlord. It's Leland, and _I'm the man_. If you make me pay,
I'll raise your rent." He laughed heartily and let me off, but not
without a parting shot: "You see, Mr. Leland, there are so many
scallawags {349} from the East come here, that we are obliged to be a
little particular."
I returned to the hotel, and was immediately introduced to some one
having authority. I narrated my late experience. He looked at me and
said, "How long have you been in Chicago?" I replied, "About thirty
minutes." He answered gravely, "I think you'd better _stay_ here. You'll
suit the place." I was beginning to feel the moral influence of the
genial air of the West. Chicago is emphatically what is termed "a
place," and a certain amount of calm confidence in one's self is not in
that city to any one's discredit. Once there was an old lady of a "hard"
type in the witness-box in an American city. She glared round at the
judge, the jury, and the spectators, and then burst out with, "You
needn't all be staring at me in that way. I don't keer a --- for you
all. I've lived eleven years in Chicago, and ain't affeard of the
devil." Chicago is said in Indian to mean the place of skunks, but
calling a rose a skunk-cabbage don't make it one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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