As Far As I Can See Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  St. Louis, Missouri 1856

  May 15, 1856

  May 16, 1856

  May 17, 1856

  May 22, 1856

  May 23, 1856

  May 24, 1856

  May 25, 1856

  May 26, 1856

  May 27, 1856

  May 28, 1856

  May 29, 1856

  May 30, 1856

  June 1, 1856

  June 2, 1856

  June 3, 1856

  June 4, 1856

  June 5, 1856

  June 6, 1856

  June 7, 1856

  June 8, 1856

  June 10, 1856

  June 11, 1856

  June 12, 1856

  June 13, 1856

  June 15, 1856

  June 17, 1856

  June 18, 1856

  June 19, 1856

  June 20, 1856

  June 21, 1856

  June 22, 1856

  June 25, 1856

  June 26, 1856

  June 27, 1856

  June 28, 1856

  July 1, 1856

  July 2, 1856

  July 3, 1856

  July 4, 1856

  Life in America in 1856

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books in the My America series

  Copyright

  May 15, 1856

  I am Margaret Cora Wells, also known as Meg. I have never before kept a diary. Mother gave me this one for my ninth birthday. I only wish it had a lock. That way I could keep out my nosy seven-year-old brother, also known as Preston.

  May 16, 1856

  Nothing exciting happened today. But soon I hope to write about these adventures:

  Boating with my best friend, Julia

  Acting in my school’s spring play, The Tempest

  Going to church wearing one of the fashionable, new hoopskirts, also known as a “cage”

  May 17, 1856

  This afternoon, Mother told me to dress for a birthday surprise! I put on my white stockings, lace pantalettes, and four petticoats. Nellie slipped my lilac silk dress over my head. She fastened all twenty-four buttons down my back with her buttonhook.

  I came downstairs. Father had hitched Brownie and Bess to the open carriage. I climbed in beside Mother and Preston. Grace had to stay home. She is only four and, Mother says, too young for excitement. Nellie held her, and she waved as we drove off.

  The horses’ hooves clip-clopped on the cobblestones as we rode to the riverfront. So much was going on! Men moved boxes and trunks. They blew horns to say, “Get out of my way!” Pres kept standing up to see. Twice he nearly fell out of the carriage.

  A whole city of steamboats was docked at the Mississippi River landing. Their smoke-stacks reached up to the clouds. Father calls them “floating palaces.” How I wish to ride on one some day.

  Father stopped the carriage in front of the new Barnum’s City Hotel. It has just been built, right in the spot where so many buildings burned down in the Fire of 1849. The hotel is very tall — six stories high!

  We went into Barnum’s ice-cream parlor. It had pink-and-white striped paper on the walls. I ordered peppermint ice cream. It was delicious and it matched the wallpaper exactly. I wish it had matched my dress for, I am sorry to say, I dripped a little on my front.

  Pres chose chocolate. He even had seconds. Mother said his chin was a disgrace.

  I am now seated on a blue velvet chair. Mother and I are in the hotel lobby. We are waiting for Father and Pres to bring the carriage. Next to my chair is a palm tree in a pot. When I am older, I hope to spend a night in this hotel.

  I am fond of luxury. Too fond, Mother says. But even Mother is enjoying herself this afternoon. How good to see her smile for a change.

  Later

  I saw something terrible!

  I will never forget it as long as I live.

  When we left the hotel, our carriage became stuck in a jam of carriages and carts. We did not move for a long time.

  We saw that a crowd had gathered at the Courthouse. Father got out and walked ahead to see what was happening.

  Pres said his stomach hurt. Mother said it was from too much ice cream. She said if he was going to be sick, he must jump out of the carriage.

  At that, Pres jumped out! He was not sick, but he took off running through the crowd.

  Mother called after him to come back.

  But Pres kept going.

  So I jumped out of the carriage and ran after him. I got hot from running. My petticoats were peppered with soot. How I wished Pres had stayed home with Grace!

  I ran after my brother. But I could not catch him. He ducked under people’s elbows. He wove through the crowd. Then he stopped short, and I nearly bumped into him.

  I grabbed his hand but he yanked it away.

  Pres stood in front of the Courthouse. He stared up at a Negro family on the steps — a father, a mother, and a young daughter.

  A man’s loud voice startled me. It called out, “Tom! Show how you walk.”

  The Negro man walked. He moved stiffly. Then I saw why. He had iron chains on his ankles.

  I did not understand what I was seeing, but I knew it was awful. The little girl looked so frightened. I tried to pull Pres away, but he would not be pulled.

  “Bidders!” the man called. I saw that he held a whip. “Come feel Tom’s muscles. He can lift heavy boxes. He has years of hard work left in him yet. Buy him alone or with his wife, a fine house slave.”

  Now I knew what was happening. Tom was a slave. He was being sold!

  A hand clamped onto my shoulder. It spun me around, and I saw no more. I looked up at my father’s red, angry face. He was glaring at the scene on the steps.

  He kept one hand on my shoulder and the other on Preston’s. He hurried us back to the carriage.

  I cried all the way home.

  Bedtime

  Mother came to tuck me in tonight. My voice shook as I asked how one person could be sold to another. Mother said what I have heard her say before: that slavery is a terrible evil. She said many people called abolitionists are working hard to end slavery, to make it against the law. They help slaves run away from states where slavery is allowed. They help them ride on the Underground Railroad. “It is not really a train,” Mother said, “but a series of secret hiding places called ‘stations.’” People called “conductors” take the slaves from station to station, all the way to freedom.

  Oh, how I hope Tom and his family will find a way to ride on the Underground Railroad!

  May 22, 1856

  Grace cried much of last night. Mother says she has a little fever.

  May 23, 1856

  Grace cannot keep her food down. She cries from stomach pains. Mother tries not to show it, but I can tell that she is very worried.

  Later

  I came home from school and found Mother busy tending to Grace. So I have come into the parlor to look at the photographs on the piano. One is in a case lined with blue velvet. It shows my aunt Margaret. She is Mother’s younger sister. I am named for her but I look nothing like her. Aunt Margaret has a round face and light hair. My face is narrow and my hair is red, like Father’s.

  Aunt Margaret, Uncle Aubert, and their boys moved to Kansas Territory two years ago. It is not even part of the United States! Mother says Uncle Aubert moved because he wanted to own land, and her poor dear baby sister had to follow him to Kansas, windy Kansas. Also known as “the end of the earth.”

  Another picture is in a case with black velvet. It shows small twin boys. They are holding hands. They are my brothers, Lee
and Larry. They caught cholera in the terrible epidemic of 1849. I once heard Father say that the twins fell sick in the morning and by nightfall, they were dead. Thousands of people in St. Louis died of cholera that summer. I was only two years old. I cannot remember Lee and Larry. But Mother never forgets them, not ever.

  Preston just ran into the parlor. He is pulling his kite, shouting for it to “Fly, fly, fly!”

  My friend Julia says that just watching Preston can wear a person out.

  May 24, 1856

  Something awful has happened. Mother has come down sick. No one says the word “cholera.” But I can hear it in the silence.

  I am very frightened.

  May 25, 1856

  I heard Father’s footsteps on the floor above my bedroom last night. Back and forth, back and forth, all night long.

  Today is Sunday, but we did not go to church. Father let his egg and toast grow cold at breakfast while he stared out the window. The boughs of Mother’s apple trees are heavy with blooms. But I could tell that Father did not see the flowers.

  I am not allowed in the sickrooms so I have come out to the garden. Bees buzz above me as I write. The apple blossoms smell sweet and sad at the same time.

  Later

  I overheard Father tell Nellie that Mother is out of her head with worry over Preston and me. He said that if we came down with cholera, it would kill Mother. She fears that another epidemic will strike St. Louis this summer. She has made Father promise to send us away until fall. Away! But where?

  Later

  I write by candlelight. If Nellie catches me, she will scold. She will tell me how a breeze can blow a window curtain into a candle flame. It can start a terrible fire. But I am too hot to sleep. The netting over my bed seems to keep out air as well as mosquitoes.

  I pray that Mother will not send us away. I want to stay here to write in my diary: Mother and Grace are well again.

  May 26, 1856

  Mother has not changed her mind. Tonight at supper Father had news for Preston and me. We are going to Kansas to stay with Aunt Margaret for the summer.

  Pres whooped. He said he could not wait to fly his kite in windy Kansas.

  Preston is an ignorant little boy. I wish he were sick instead of Mother and Grace.

  Later

  I do not wish that Preston were sick. I could never wish that.

  May 27, 1856

  Father has worked fast. His friend Dr. Baer is moving to Kansas. To a place called Neosho. Father says Dr. Baer is a “vegetarian.” He eats vegetables, but no meat. Neosho, Kansas, is a place especially for vegetarians. It has a fine climate, so the vegetarians can grow all their own food. Dr. Baer showed Father a pamphlet. It told of the wonders of Neosho.

  Dr. Baer has a ticket to ride on a steamboat, The Kansas Hopeful. Father has bought tickets for Preston and me, too. We will travel to Kansas City with Dr. Baer to watch over us. Then Dr. Baer will drive us to Aunt Margaret’s house as it is on the way to Neosho.

  We leave tomorrow morning!

  Julia cannot even come to tell me good-bye. Her mother will not let her come into a house where there is sickness.

  Father and Pres have gone to Shapleigh, Day & Co., the hardware store downtown. They are buying seeds, skillets, nails, cloth, linens, and blankets for us to take to Aunt Margaret and Uncle Aubert. Mother wants us to take her baby apple tree seedlings, too.

  Nellie and I have been packing all day. I will take:

  1 lilac silk dress

  1 cream silk dress

  1 rose silk dress

  1 blue linen dress

  3 camisoles

  2 pr. pantalettes

  6 petticoats

  6 pr. stockings

  2 pr. shoes

  1 pr. boots

  1 wool coat

  1 pr. gloves

  1 night dress

  1 diary

  Bedtime

  Dr. Baer came over tonight. He has a thick moustache and bushy whiskers. He looks just like a great, hairy-faced bear! His German accent makes him hard to understand. I do not want to be looked after by a bear.

  I said good night to Father. I curtsied to Dr. Baer. As I started up to bed, I heard Dr. Baer say that Kansas is a dangerous place right now. I stopped on the stairs to listen. I heard Father say, “Margaret is the only family we have outside St. Louis. Besides, nothing is as dangerous as cholera.”

  I wanted to hear more. But Nellie took my hand. She led me upstairs. She said I might go to the door of Mother’s sickroom to say good-bye.

  I stood at the door. Mother was in bed. I tried not to cry, but tears ran down my cheeks.

  “Do not let Preston out of your sight,” Mother said.

  I promised I would not.

  “Be a good help to Aunt Margaret,” Mother said.

  I promised I would.

  Then Mother said something surprising: “Keep your diary, Meg. I want to read about your Kansas adventures when you come home.”

  … when you come home….

  How good those words sounded to me! I pictured it in my mind. Mother and I, sitting in the parlor, laughing over my time in windy Kansas.

  I promised to write everything down in my diary.

  Nellie led me from the door. She put her arms around me. She held me while I cried. I said I could not stand to be so far from home. Nellie said yes, I could. After all, she had come all the way from Ireland, across the sea. And she is doing fine. I cried even harder then, thinking of Nellie here, and her family so far away.

  May 28, 1856

  I am on a steamboat — a floating palace! I am on the upper deck, looking out over all of St. Louis. Not long ago, I wished to be here. Now my wish has come true. But I never wished it to happen this way!

  Nellie shook me awake before dawn. I dressed quickly. She held a lantern as she rushed Pres and me down the walk. Father had the carriage waiting. Nellie put a basket of journey food into my lap. She hugged me hard. Then off we raced to the levee.

  Even at dawn, the levee was noisy and crowded. Father hurried Pres and me aboard The Kansas Hopeful. He made sure that our trunks and the baby apple trees were stored below deck with the rest of the baggage and with the horses, cows, and chickens that are traveling to Kansas. Then Father found Dr. Baer and put us in his care. A gong rang. All who were not going had to get off the boat. I hugged Father good-bye. It was so very hard to let him go! I said Mother’s words inside my head: When you come home … When you come home …

  Pres and I stood at the rail. We watched Father walk down the plank. I held back my tears, as I did not want to upset Pres. But he waved and shouted happily to Father. I should know better than to worry about upsetting Preston.

  The boat engines roared. Great clouds of smoke poured from the smoke-stacks. The big paddle wheel of The Kansas Hopeful began to turn, and we pulled out into the Mississippi River. The boat rose and fell in the water. It gave me the strangest feeling in my stomach.

  I waved until I could no longer see Father. I watched the steeples and chimneys until they disappeared. Then all I could see was a cloud of smoke hanging over what I knew to be St. Louis. Good-bye Father! Get well, Mother and Grace!

  Later

  We had hardly left the dock when Preston dragged Dr. Baer and me off to explore the boat. We climbed a wide staircase to the grand saloon. It has red carpeting and red velvet curtains. It is every bit as fancy as Barnum’s City Hotel.

  We saw several tables where men and women sat, playing cards. One player stood out from the others. He was tall. His yellow hair hung down past his shoulders. He wore a black cloak. And his eyes! One was blue and the other, brown! Pres whispered to me that the man was surely an outlaw and that he was hiding a pistol under his cloak.

  At the far end of the saloon, waiters began bringing out platters with roasts and sliced meats and potatoes. There were bowls of stew and many kinds of fish. They set them over flames to keep them hot. They also set out coffee, tea, cakes, pastries, nuts, and candies. Pres was almost dro
oling as he watched.

  We were startled by a clanging gong. People ran into the saloon. It was a stampede! Men pushed and shoved to get a seat. They lunged across the tables to grab the dishes.

  At last Dr. Baer, Pres, and I found seats, but by then the food was all gone! The waiters had started to clear the tables.

  We were lucky we had our basket of journey food. (Oh, bless you, Nellie, for tucking in the photographs of Mother, Father, and Grace. And the one of yourself, too, dear Nellie!)

  After we ate, we found an empty bench out on the deck. We are sitting there now, watching the passengers.

  Many women pass by with their children. Dr. Baer says they are going to meet their husbands, who have staked “claims” of land in the west.

  A woman in a green dress with a hoopskirt strolled by. A young Negro girl tried to hold a matching green parasol over her head. But the girl was not very tall. She could not hold the parasol steady. The woman shouted, “Keep the sun off my face! Or I shall send you below deck to spend the rest of the trip with the cows!”

  Dr. Baer shook his head. He said this poor girl was a slave, and slavery was a stain on the heart of humanity. He said it was a terrible shame that Missouri did not pass laws against it.

  Pres said he would rather ride with the cows any day than with that horrid woman.

  The yellow-haired gambler went by. He carried a big, heavy case. He looked over at us with his different colored eyes. It gave me the shivers.

  A straight-backed woman with white hair stopped to chat with us. She is Miss Peach. She introduced us to her sixteen-year-old niece, Hannah. Hannah Peach has blonde hair and rosy cheeks. The two women have traveled all the way from New York. And just think — they are vegetarians going to Neosho! Dr. Baer and Miss Peach became instant friends.