Highlights

In Chapter 12, Martha describes witnessing a comet on their family farm, five miles east of Kalamazoo, MI . I believe that this was Donati's Comet of 1858-59.

"That winter there was a large comet, extending across about one-fourth of the sky, which we watched many nights for a long time. I have never seen one since half as large."

In Chapter 13: "During the Civil War there was a recruiting station in Kalamazoo, with several Lieutenants from the Regular Army there. Their presence made the winter quite gay, as many parties and balls were given while they were there. One of them, when asked "How do you do?" always answered "Gay and Festive." The girls grew tired of it after a while, and when one night at a ball he flung his feet higher than usual, he fell flat on his back with heels in the air. How we girls did shout!"

In Chapter 14: "I was invited with Sister and her husband to attend the great Sanitary Fair at Chicago, which was held in Bryan Hall (afterward the Grand Opera House). Some of the exhibits were shown in a room of the Court House, on the opposite side of the street, among which exhibits was the stuffed eagle, Old Abe, which, when alive, was the mascot of the Wisconsin 5th Cavalry."

"We made Autograph Quilts (and others) in the sewing circles at Kalamazoo to send to the soldier camps and hospitals, and "scraped lint" for the wounded, medical supplies not containing any in those days."

In Chapter 15: "At the time of [General Robert E.] Lee's surrender there were great rejoicings in all northern towns because the war was over. In our town there were fireworks to be shot off on top of a store. Great crowds gathered in the streets around, while we were fortunate enough to be on the top of a store diagonally opposite. Soon after the fireworks began to be shown, something went wrong and they all began to go off together. Our little girl began to cry hysterically. When she was quieted enough to tell why, she said she was crying because she "was afraid they were going to set God afire!"

The rejoicing was quickly turned into mourning by the murder of our beloved President Lincoln."

From Chapter 16:

"Saturday evening, October 7th, 1871, there was a large fire which we could see from our house, although some miles away. For a few hours the water in our faucets did not run, but as soon as the fire was subdued it began to run again, that is Sunday morning. On Monday morning when our milkman came, I told him I would like extra milk, as the water was not running. He said "No, and it won't run again, for the Water Works burned at three o'clock last night, and the Post Office and the Court House." Then I ran to tell Mr. G., who was not well and meant to stay in bed all day. But at the news he jumped up, ate a little, and went away, and did not return till night. Brother Frank, who was with us, ate a little, grabbed his lunch box and hurried off. We did not see him again till after dark, when he came, with a piece of veiling in a string around his neck, and the reddest eyes. The veil had been used to keep the smoke out of his eyes, he said. He had run the engine for the elevator to take carriages down from the upper floor of his place of business, Coan & Tenbroeck's on Adams Street between State and Dearborn Streets. The carriages were run into the lake to keep them from burning. He helped until the fire drove them all away. The first carriage he helped down, he had thrown his lunch box into, and it was resurrected about three weeks later when that carriage was drawn from the lake. Some of the carriages were stolen, and he was sent to towns roundabout to recover them whenever any were heard of.

On Wednesday, Mr. Granger nearly burned his shoes off his feet, helping get the safe out of the hot coals.

On the Monday morning at nine o'clock, several men stood on the corner of State and Madison Street, watching Crosby's Opera House on Washington Street burning, and wondered if the fire would work back and take Bookseller's Row, three large bookstores standing side by side on that corner. A few hours later nothing remained there or within miles, but ashes, bricks, etc. There were large coal yards on Madison Street beside the river, with coal heaped up on the docks, and as soon as it was dark, for weeks we could see the light of the coal still burning.

Many people came from far and near to see the ruins. My brother Ebb and Charles came, bringing from Mother, a large suitcase full of food and water. We had no water except what we brought from a duck pond in Union Park, about three blocks away. After a few days carts began to come around with water to sell. The city fathers had the fire engines pump water from the river into the water pipes for laundry purposes, but some used it for cooking, etc. The river at that time carried all the sewage of the city to the lake, so that typhoid fever began to appear, before the Water Works were repaired and in use again.

On the Monday afternoon of the fire, we saw a small express wagon from the fire district with a few things from a State Street bird store, a cage hanging on the back, containing a forlorn parrot. A young lady, my brother's fiancée, dragged her trunk to the LaSalle Street Tunnel, to escape the flames. A friend of ours on State Street hired a man to take a load of furniture away. A sewing machine, and a trunk belonging to a sister just returning from a honeymoon trip were loaded in, and then the man became frightened at the near approach of the fire and drove off at a run, and that was all they saved.

It was said the court house cat, after the fire, was found in a pail of water, alive. The court house bell, which always had been used to tell the districts in which a fire was located, was afterward melted and made into little bells for souvenirs. My little girl had one, which was on a chain around her neck, but both was afterward lost.

From all over the United States, money and carloads of food were sent. I was proud that the first carload to arrive came from my native town, Kalamazoo. Things were taken to the west side churches to be distributed, the fire having been confined by a very strong wind to the south side business district and the north side, both of which were wholly wiped out, except one house on the north side in the center of a whole block for grounds. One day I went to our church to see the distribution. One of the Elders who knew me, begged me to let a barrel of flour, a ham, etc. be sent to us, but on my refusal he said there was plenty of things, and most of them were going to those who did not need them. It was just a month before the firm Mr. Granger was with got in shape to pay salaries again.

Wholesalers in the east, New York, etc., showed their faith in Chicago business ability and enterprise, by sending to their former customers before the fire stopped smoking, all things to make a new start, before they knew whether it was possible to make such start. With tears in their eyes and trembling voices, retailers told of these numerous instances. Time has shown the faith fully justified.

In England, not knowing Chicago as yet had no public library, Thomas Hughes, author of "Tom Brown's Schooldays," etc., thought our greatest loss by the fire, was the loss of our public library, and made an appeal to authors, publishers, scientific and other societies, of Great Britain, which resulted in obtaining about 7,000 books. When the donation was received in Chicago, it was placed in temporary locations, until November, 1897, when it was removed to its permanent home in the new building, which occupies the site formerly called Dearborn Park, owned by the U.S. Government. Many requests for the site were made by different organizations, but it was finally given to the Library Board, with the stipulation that the "Grand Army of the Republic" should have its home there for fifty years, it being thought the last of that great army by that time would have passed away, when their rooms would revert to the library.

In 1927 telegraphic news came as follows: "Chicago, October 22nd, -- A Committee named by Mayor Thompson to make a search of the Public Library for traces of the British Lion reposing in the far recesses of its forest of stacks, today learned with considerable surprise that Queen Victoria helped to found the Library after the Fire of 1871."

Geo. P. Upton, of the Chicago Tribune, wrote a history of the Fire, entitled "The Great Conflagration," which is one of our treasured books.

The brick and other fire debris were carted to the lake shore and dumped where now is Grant Park. The Michigan Central railroad came into the city over piles quite a distance from the shore, leaving quite a space to be filled in, which eventually was named Grant Park.

In 1873 early in the evening there was quite a fire a few blocks south of where the great one began. One of my neighbors and I said we would go to it, as we had not seen the other fire except at a distance of many blocks. We went on the street cars until they were stopped by the police, and then walked the rest of the way, to a cross street where we had a good view. Soon, there came a cow running from the fire, and we climbed up on a ten foot pile of those bricks to get out of her way. Now, the Art Institute stands on that very spot, with her two lions guarding the entrance.

Directly after the Great Fire wild rumors flew about, of robbers helping themselves to loot. All men were called out to guard the city. Mr. Granger and our neighbors patrolled our vicinity, until General Sheridan arrived with soldiers and took charge, when things quieted down, and we heard no more of "thugs being strung up to lamp posts."

General Sheridan had a fine span of bay mules, which he drove hitched to an ambulance for a carriage, thinking well of Washington's plan of raising many mules, with the intention of driving them entirely to his carriage. Sheridan could often be seen driving down the avenue with his "spanking team," until he married and gave his bride, as a wedding present, a carriage and fine span of horses."

In Chapter 17: "In 1876 I went to New York, taking the two children. Sister and her daughters were planning to attend the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, the first World's Fair in the United States, so we joined their party. We stopped at a hotel built and run by a man from Baltimore for use during the Exposition, as he thought his furniture business would be nil while the fair lasted. His nice wife was with him, and they brought their colored servants, one of whom took care of my baby while we visited the Fair.

We attended the Fair several days and enjoyed it very much, especially the art building, which was made for permanence, as a memorial of the exposition. I have a silk-woven picture of the art building, and other mementos."

In Chapter 23: "In 1893 the Columbian Exposition was opened in Jackson Park, Chicago. This was our first World's Fair since the Centennial in Philadelphia in 1876.

It had been intended to open the Columbian Fair in 1892, the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America in 1492, but it was not ready then. We attended many times, and saw exhibits from all over the world, as well as from all our own states. Spain sent two large banners which were hung in the end of one building. She also sent replicas of the Santa Maria, Pinta, and Nina, the Caravels of Columbus, and of the Convent of La Rabida.

In the Agricultural Building was a very large picture of a farmstead, all made of grains. It would take a large book to mention all the lovely, marvelous and instructive things we saw. The song, "After the Ball is Over" was very popular that year, and visiting musicians carried it to the ends of the earth.

At the Worlds Congresses of Religion, held in the as yet unfinished Art Institute, I attended an afternoon meeting. I do not know what that particular meeting was called, but I saw there Susan B. Anthony, Madame Modjeska, and a Miss Field. Susan looked just like her photographs, and so did Modjeska. Susan and Miss Field met on the platform, and after a few words tearfully embraced. I do not remember the cause of their emotion, but it was affecting to see it.

The Fourth of July saw the greatest number of visitors on any one day. We started to go home at ten o-clock in the evening, but waiting and waiting for a chance to enter a train, we did not reach home until daybreak next morning. I had taken some shares of stock in the fair at the beginning of it, and two or three years after it was over, I received ten percent of my investment. The other ninety percent I received in pleasure and pride in the City's Great Fair.

Not long after the close of the fair, fire broke out and consumed many of the buildings. Others were wrecked from time to time. I went there one day and took a photo of one of the remaining relics, a German building. I brought home a piece of the cornice that had ornamented one of the buildings, which I have given to the Santa Rosa Museum.

In Chapter 20:

"A day was set apart for the children to see him, so all the schools in the city and county were closed. The old Exposition Building, 800 feet long, was arranged for them. They entered at one end and passed along to the other end in an aisle about ten feet wide, which was boarded about three feet high at the sides to keep the children in line.

In the center of the building at one side of the aisle, a platform about two feet high had been built, on which General Grant sat in a large chair. His son, Fred Grant, stood a little at one side and back of his father, and the Mayor and a few other gentlemen stood on his other side a little back. As the children passed along, a man said, "Children, this is General Grant, and this is his son."

My child was too small to be trusted to go with her teacher, who had forty or fifty other little tots to attend to, so I took her. As we passed by a florist's shop on the way, I bought a lovely red rosebud for her to throw to the General, but as we passed him I saw she had forgotten the flower, so I snatched it from her hand and threw it for her. General Grant held out both hands to catch it, did not smile nor speak, but looked right in my eyes with a keen and piercing glance. I feel sure that he would have known each of those three hundred thousand children should he have seen them many years later. Although it was only about ten o'clock when we passed, the flowers the children had thrown to General Grant already, were banked about his chair, at both sides, at the back and in front up to his knees, and the procession did not stop till late in the afternoon. I believe the flowers were afterward sent to the different hospitals in the city."

In Chapter 15: "When the insane asylum was built in Kalamazoo, as soon as a part of it was finished, the part soon filled up. It was the largest and finest building at the time in the town, or in fact in that part of the state. So, like everyone else, when we had visitors from out of town, we took them to see it."