[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 64. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
he does not undertake to stop the iron horse, by an undignified attack. Mitchell would have read in his countenance unmistakable confidence in his power to destroy and consciousness of his mercy in sparing the train.
I stand on the platform, the speed is tremendous, behind time a good road here.
The boundaries vast of the Grand Prairie cuts forward before me, I feel the bracing air, keen and cold, and with a head wind, almost capable of blowing down.
I stand, hat off & hair blown almost off my head, & my feelings are roused as if something glorious were about to absorb me and waken those deep passions which only public joy or danger can awaken in the bosom of patriots and natives.
I never was so proud of my country, not that this displays, but that it suggests all the glories of our sublime governmental fabric.
Dudley, a town in the Prairie, prairie flowers, in all sorts, varieties . . .
[Mitchell = probably Harvey Mitchell (1799-1866).
John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 63. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
huge sign, "cash for wheat."
Paris, Edgar co. Illis. This is a very respectable town. Here I see a tall church, a moderately high steeple, a long shaft projecting wonderful above it strait [straight] up, as a continuation, & from all, see the aspirations of the popular.
Soil black, grain country begins. Blue flags, fine crops, stock, etc. Grand Prairie seen at distance, half hid by clumps of intervening timber, country evidently settled many years.
Now, out fairly in the Grand Prairie (60 by 40 miles in Extent). Richest country I ever saw, the very curse of Eden is exempt here, for bread may be had almost without the sweat of the brow.
Everything seems on a grand scale, like the prairie, the very hedges are of forest trees. This, if the climate were milder, should be a slave country. None under the sun is so well suited in other respects.
Old ram by the roadside. Resisting[?] the train with an imperial shake of his head, that awes his flock, but [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 62. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
old man at Ease. Speculated a while on what relations he was going to see, or if not what at his late age could take him out, when it was plain he was not used to going. Inquired if he would smoke. He thought I was conductor, & was much alarmed fearing he had done something wrong, being deaf & not having heard what I said. Repeated louder, with a cigar in mouth. Said he never smoked cigars, but when at home had his pipe, asked why he didn't bring it, timidly produced it. Told him to light, grin even half an acre of wrinkled cheek. Dug down deep in pocket & filled pipe. Smoked with him, talked, got him perfectly happy. Told how scared he was. No fire in any but our car. Old man most frozen, made him come forw back to our car & sit by fire, etc. He was going to Pana to visit his son. Since I had set him right, was delighted with his journey.
In Every village & country store here, as in Indiana & Ohio, I see the [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877).]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 61. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
Mother and I Eat a very good & hearty breakfast, ham & Eggs etc at 4 1/2 o'cl[o]ck AM.
Got the conductor to procure a stove & put in cars, here a cold-frost.
Off. Morning really glorious in the emphatic sense of the term.
Last night napped not a catnap. Nevertheless, feel good, better than for months. Talk with passengers about the shape of the state of Indiana. Boot with large leg, small foot. Fact just opposite, large feet & small legs, the girls I mean, as far as I have seen.
But here we are, over the Wabash, & hence in Illinois. If first impressions last, I shall love the Sucker state. More massive and splendid foliage I never saw. It is strange, that thus far, the western huge trees have always lain to my north or south -- this is the first "grand old woods" since I left Wash[ington].
Find in smoking car, old man with pipe never in cars before, as I suppose. Sensed. Conclude to get [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877).]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 60. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
& feel better, sit with conductor & baggage master for several hours, returning to Mother at intervals. And smoking strait on.
Resolve to try a snooze if possible. Ruffled, necessity mother of invention, can't get my head right. Take handkerchief & tie up a loop from window to seat, or in some shape I have not time to describe, and wouldn't if I had. Got my head in it. Got round my neck. In short, hung myself & was alarmed at an a suicide, wondered if an instructive conviction of my uselessness, & character as a common nuisance had impelled me to suicide. Concluded to defer till Mary shall have disappointed me or jilted me or something else improbably grievous should occur.
Day begins to break. Terre Haute in night. Town looks like outskirts of Washington. Scattered over square miles big as a German principality. Fine place. Here we stop 25 minutes for breakfast. Change cars again too.
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)
Mary Louisa Michel/Mitchell (1838-1930).]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 59. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
Canada, next time. Replied that any where but here & through "this abominable Indiana."
4 June 1859. After midnight, fix Mother up comfortable as possible. I cannot persuade her to lean on me, she is too nervous to allow herself to relax her muscles. Off again at last.
Conductor & I have a long talk of routes etc., clever & courteous fellow, as all have been, but that clockpeddling scoundrel beyond Zanesville, who will hereafter have better breeding. The Conductor lets me know that by lying over at Newark, I shall most probably miss connection at Pana Ills. [Illinois] & that by starting at 3 o'cl[oc]k from Washington, I threw myself upon this series of accommodation trains, instead of a through train from Belleaire [Bellaire] to Terre Haute.
Fix Mother as warm as possible & go forward to baggage car, where a fire. I put in trunk Everything of [?] kind, never supposing I should want anything but a linen coat. Now, I am obliged to get at my trunk & get out coat, do so.
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 58. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
Fire raging in the city, not very large one. In the Depot, city invisible. Have to be by half hour or so, I check baggage to Pana Illinois, grumble at the baggage master, ought to have had a kick in mouth for it. Didn't get it. Ought to have had some cigars, tobacco & drink of liquor. Didn't get them.
Here Enter several passengers, some came though Ft. Wayne, report a Railroad accident this morning, one gent demonstrates by his bandaged head, all from New York I believe, but us.
We sit in cars waiting start. Talk of comfort in arranging & customizing cars, seats etc.
Everything blank & dark, nothing to write. Here, no fire, but not only that, no stoves in cars. Good God, what a prospect of balance of this night, getting colder, too, Every moment!
Mother remarks against Route. Gent suggests that other routes less direct, declares she would rather go, and believed next time she would go by way of North Carolina.
Reminded her that back some hours she had declared she would go by [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 57. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
retorts that it "is a wonder, if crying children are about" -- baby's mother cares[?]. Mother adds also, that she would much prefer to travel to Indianapolis in [an] ox cart. I agree, if she would drive. Would (says she) if not other passengers; another fling at the brat's mamma.
Off again -- what next to happen? Jolting is tremendous. Mother believes we are off the track, or that there is none. Remark cut off by a bump of head and dislodgement of spectacles - advise her to swear.
All dark, all blank, we must be near Indianapolis by this time.
Cumberland, 11 miles from Indp'ls, other towns we passed at times, but could not see, & cared nothing for the names of them.
Here (or may be farther back) entered an old country magistrate and a couple of attorneys before his court. Case is broached, old gent lays down the law rather circum[spectl]y, and foggily.
Indianapolis, about midnight.
[to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 56. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
The other 3 passengers are half civilized barbarians. Mother calls them cattle.
A negro employe[e] on the train and barbarians aforesaid engaged in a vert amusing account of a negro pic nic [picnic] not very flattering to the good luck of negroes nor indicative of high respect to the black by the white element of the company.
By good deal of deviltry, I kept the spirits of the company up, and at last found the conductor & had a fire built. Off now, & better things.
Alas, but a hundred or two yards, & we stop to remove a couple of horses, left on the track killed by the train just passed past.
Mother's patience now gives out totally. Is of opinion "of all accommodation, that of 'accommodation trains" is the poorest, being a train of evils, disappointments & vexations only. I was amused to see her (or hear her) pun -- a thing very rare.
Mother admits that the fire is getting comfortable. Woman with the baby, mad at Mother's dislike of bawling brats, is glad to hear that anything is comfortable. Mother [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)]
[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 55. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
Next, Dublin. But I remember Cambridge City. I propose no explorations.
Out of tobacco, fellow tat[t]ooing elaborately with endlessly diversified variations when ears stop.
Water boy comes round. Employ him to buy of some railroad employee tobacco. He succeeded & I am now in per it, plenty of tobacco. Conductor very gentlemanly.
About 30 miles from Indianapolis, cars stop to wood, it is now very cold, passengers overcoated, & grumbling still.
Only 3 passengers left in this car. Mother exceedingly dissatisfied, nervous, impatient & peevish, so strangely that word sounds applied to that once great woman!
A woman in the cars with a baby is equally annoyed at its crying and mortified that she can't stop it. Mother is well nigh unable to control her uneasiness at it.
The Engines are out of order & we move on, but very slow.
Here, in in consequence of loss of time, we have to delay 40 minutes at a switch, to await a train. The baby, the cold, etc etc etc - again. Mother abuses the railroad, the state of Indiana, the baby & things generally [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877)]
