I have to-day acquired my first experience of Texan
railroads.
In this country, where every white man is as good as another
(by theory), and every white female is by courtesy a lady, there is only one
class. The train from Alleyton consisted of two long cars, each holding about
fifty persons. Their interior is like the aisle of a church, twelve seats on
either side, each for two persons. The seats are comfortably stuffed, and
seemed luxurious after the stage.
Before starting, the engine gives two preliminary snorts,
which, with a yell from the official of “all aboard,” warn the passengers to hold
on; for they are closely followed by a tremendous jerk, which sets the cars in
motion.
Every passenger is allowed to use his own discretion about
breaking his arm, neck, or leg, without interference by the railway officials.
People are continually jumping on and off whilst the train
is in motion, and larking from one car to the other. There is no sort of fence
or other obstacle to prevent “humans” or cattle from getting on the line.
We left Alleyton at 8 A.M., and got a miserable meal at Richmond
at 12.30. At this little town I was introduced to a seedy-looking man, in rusty
black clothes and a broken-down “stove-pipe” hat. This was Judge Stockdale, who
will probably be the next governor of Texas. He is an agreeable man, and his
conversation is far superior to his clothing. The rival candidate is General
Chambers (I think), who has become very popular by the following sentence in
his manifesto: — “I am of opinion that married
soldiers should be given the opportunity of embracing their families at least
once a-year, their places in the ranks being taken by unmarried men. The
population must not be allowed to suffer.”
Richmond is on the Brazos river, which is crossed in a
peculiar manner. A steep inclined plane leads to a low, rickety, trestle
bridge, and a similar inclined plane is cut in the opposite bank. The engine
cracks on all steam, and gets sufficient impetus in going down the first
incline to shoot across the bridge and up the second incline. But even in Texas
this method of crossing a river is considered rather unsafe.
After crossing the river in this manner, the rail traverses
some very fertile land, part of which forms the estate of the late Colonel
Terry. There are more than two hundred negroes on the plantation. Some of the
fields were planted with cotton and Indian corn mixed, three rows of the former
between two of the latter. I saw also fields with cotton and sugar mixed.
We changed carriages at Harrisburg, and I completed my
journey to Houston on a cotton truck.
The country near Houston is very pretty, and is studded with
white wooden villas, which are raised off the ground on blocks like haystacks.
I reached Houston at 4.30 P.M., and drove to the Fannin House hotel.
Houston is a much better place than I expected. The main
street can boast of many well-built brick and iron houses. It was very full, as
it now contained all the refugees from the deserted town of Galveston.
After an extremely mild supper, I was introduced to
Lieutenant Lee, a wounded hero, who lost his leg at Shiloh; also to Colonel
Pyron, a distinguished officer, who commands the regiment named after him.
The fat German, Mr Lee, and myself, went to the theatre
afterwards.
As a great favour, my British prejudices were respected, and
I was allowed a bed to myself; but the four other beds in the room had two
occupants each. A captain, whose acquaintance I had made in the cars, slept in
the next bed to me. Directly after we had got into bed a negro came in, who,
squatting down between our beds, began to clean our boots. The Southerner
pointed at the slave, and thus held forth: — “Well, Kernel, I reckon you've got
servants in your country, but not of that colour. Now, sir, this is a real
genuine African. He's as happy as the day's long; and if he was on a sugar
plantation he'd be dancing half the night; but if you was to collect a thousand
of them together, and fire one bomb in amongst them, they'd all run like h—ll.”
The negro grinned, and seemed quite flattered.
SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months
in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 60-3
