University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 2

On Board The Train

Mother Dear:

We are really beginning our journey! I am so elated that I simply must write to you, although writing aboard a train was never my best. This train is in a hurry, going at an unholy pace and to my sorrow, the scenery is being whisked past at greater speed than a moving picture show, therefore I cannot truthfully state I am enraptured. We have just passed Michigan City[1], with its mountains of white sand, "Hoosier slide." The train obligingly remained at a standstill for at least three minutes and we dashed madly out, gazed, and rushed back. From the porter I learned that the sand is piled two hundred feet high, and is owned by the U.S. government. What a delightful place for children to play! I am going to curl up in a seat and dream in this growing twilight.

Niagara Falls

Mother:

How would you like to be here in this Mecca of lovers, the true honeymoon city? We arrived here early this morning almost earlier than even old Gabriel would care to blow his trumpet, and after finding a suitable hotel we started out merrily to view the mighty falls, even my voluble French blood found not a word to express my feelings. I stood there entranced, listening to the voices of the gods. I heard their silver, sweet calling, calling, every calling, beneath the wild waves of sound and I know why many have cast themselves into the foaming water. They heard the voices and could not resist.

Tell the boys, Auntie has been in Rainbow Land, and yet missed the pot of gold! We went on this wonderful journey in a little boat, the "Maid of the Mist."[2] Ed declares she must be an old maid, as he trod her decks many, many years ago, but what of that? She rode the waves quite youthfully. We were enveloped in rubber by a very obliging lad, and then sought a chair on the deck. We plunged through the blinding spray and were soon within Rainbow Land! Such a cruel rainbow, it tossed our little Maid again and yet again until I was so sick I could hardly watch the colors come and go; just as I felt the ride on that particular rainbow was too rich, we fell off and then mounted another! Oh, yes, it was beautiful beyond expression but I would have enjoyed it far more had we been less buffeted by the waves. The reason I missed the gold was because when we were at the proper place I was too seasick to grab it!

The woods are so beautiful, we have walked miles and miles I know, and at every turn we found the water rushing, ever rushing. Does it never tire?

Surely the Great Spirit must have created the falls to over-awe the souls of men. I am sending you a descriptive pamphlet of the trolley ride, now one of the features of the resort. Following the advice of a friend, we crossed and went down the Canadian side and up the American. Why do they think it necessary to make this magic place useful? Surely a little beauty that "toils not, neither doth it spin" would not be amiss in this too prosaic world of ours.

Do you recall a tale of my father's, running thus:

Long, long years ago, just as the warm winds from the Southland kissed the flowers into radiant beauty, the Great Spirit sent his angel and bore away the soul of the young bride of a chieftain of our clan. In the sighing breezes, in the waving grasses, in the nodding flowers from dawn until dusk, from dusk into day, he heard her voice calling, every calling: "Follow, follow me." Unable longer to bear the agony he besought his people to release him from duty that he might seek the voice. With sad misgivings, the permission was granted and the young lover-husband began his quest of days, weeks and months over hill and dale, ever hearing the silvery "follow, follow me." At last a day dawned in autumn splendor and he stood beside the roaring waters of the great fall. He bent to listen; hark, clearer and every clearer, high and sweet above the awful roar: "Come, my beloved, oh come; here at last is rest." One eager look, one plunge and the beplumed warrior found his bride! When the marvelous joy of this place unfolded itself to me this day, I no longer wondered that the over-wrought, untutored soul thought that here he would find her with the gods.

As the car wound in and out, following the canyon, now we saw the foaming hissing water, madly falling over gigantic rocks in its haste to reach the sea; again it flowed calmly, sanely, as if it was pleased to dally between frowning banks; again it paused to retrace its steps, and then as if in anger at the delay, churning, boiling, raging in its wrath, it leaps high in the air, and tumbling, twisting like a mad thing, returns again to its seaward course.

One must be a dreamer of dreams, mother mine, to see the true beauty of this place, and then the gods let its true grandeur sink so deeply within your soul one aches with the anguish of it, yet it is given to but few to express the visions vouchsafed. I am not one. I can only throb with the glory of it, and sob with the pain!

Did I ever complain of the cold? Well Heaven forgive me, for now I must cry out against the heat, that even the night does not drive away! Oh, for only a little breeze; the nights in Oklahoma are cool. An amusing incident occurred at our table this evening; a foreign gentleman and his wife were striving to make the ebon-hued waiter comprehend that they wished dinner served in courses; he, not knowing how to serve, a la American, in many little dishes!

After a very unsatisfactory repast of which they expressed their opinion in voluble French, thus giving much pleasure to Ed, they left the dining room, disgusted with American ways. As we now had the undivided attention of the waiter, Ed casually inquired, "Pretty hard time you were having, John. What was the trouble?" " ‘Fore Gawd, mister, but I never seed such orderin' one thing at a time, clean plate, knife and fork every time! Them furriners don't know nothin'."

In a very few days we will be "furriners"; what will be the verdict of the waiters over there?

Sunday Eve

A very peaceful day, truly a Sabbath; the divine service in the little church overshadowed by giant trees was so restful. I enjoyed the sermon very much. We were greatly amused when the contribution box was passed, for a man accompanied the collector and appeared to record amount placed therein! Ed whispered he was the auditor. If the congregation is no more blessed with worldly goods than one I know in the far West, that auditor is not needed. We have spent the afternoon strolling leisurely about the little islands and enjoyed the glimpses of honey-mooners who, thinking themselves hidden, have betrayed their newness to matrimony. Ed teases me, because I insist that I am glad that we leave here tomorrow morning, but I am so weary of the "ever-never" of the water I cannot rest, for its ceaseless roar unnerves me. Just suppose that Indian ancestor of mine should rise up and beckon! Do not be uneasy. I'll wager my French blood would come gallantly to the rescue, with, "Pardon, monsieur, I dare not intrude."

Good night, mother mine, it is almost as hot as my idea of Hades, but I shall "woo sweet slumber."

Lovingly,

C.