We were driving
a single horse hitched to a buggy. The horse was weary; the harness was
a patch of ropes. We could have made these things good with purchases
along the way, but Douglas put off the day. At last we decided to make
them in Chicago. He was loath to let me use my money for such needs as
these, seeing that I had already contributed so much to campaign
expenses. But I overbore his wishes.
We were a comical pair driving into the hurly burly of the new city of
Chicago. It had recently received a charter. But what a motley of
buildings it was! Frame shacks wedged between more substantial buildings
of brick or wood. Land speculators swarmed everywhere; land offices
confronted one at every turn; lawyers, doctors, men of all professions
and trades had descended upon this waste of sand and scrub oaks about
the lake. Indians walked among the whites; negroes as porters, laborers,
bootblacks, were plentiful; there were countless drinking places and new
hotels; there were sharpers, adventurers, blacklegs, men of prey of all
description, prostitutes, the camp followers of new settlements, houses
of vice, restaurants, gardens. And with all the rest of it evidences of
fine breeds, and civilizing purposes in some of the residences and
activities. After all a city was to be built.
And here we were--a sorry pair indeed! Douglas, worn from his
campaigning, battered and frayed; myself, dusty and unkempt, entering
Chicago behind a horse dragging its body harnessed in patches to a
rattling buggy.
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