The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1870-07-15
A TRIP TO THE SOUTHWEST.

west of the flourishing town we arejust
leaving, from which we obtain COM
manding view of it and surrounding |
country. As we look back the smoke
is just beginning TO ascend, almost ver-
ticaIly-there isnot a zephyr astir-from |
hundred small stove-pipes, whose |
round, black mouths emit ceaseless vol |
umes of the murky fog. Not chimney |
in the burg. Even the Chicago Business |
House must content itself with one of |
these unhandsome metallic conductors. |
But, we are told, it will not be thus
long. Parties have already taken the |
initiatory steps toward brick-making. |
The next time we visit her she will in
all probability have, not only plenty
of brick chimneys, but number of
large, substantial brick buildings. What
of Eldorado five years hence? The
question occurs just as we reach the
brow of the hill, and begin to descend
toward the creek and, taking q farewell
glimpse of the neat and thriving little
town at our backs; sweeping with our
eye over an area of territory as far
away from us in every direction as sight
can travel, and finding no portion of
this vast expanse otherwise than most
beautiful, and in every respect calculat-
ed to make rich and handsome farms
believing that within this time, at least
two railroads will form angles on the
town site, and unfolding their iron
lengths in different directions across
this lovely prairie and make it respond
to the magic touch of husbandry, whose
stalwart arm shall have plowed thous-
ands of acres, built hundreds upon hun
dreds of miles of fences, planted num-
berless orchards, and erected upon
every quarter section fine country res
idence-with these thoughts our an
swer is, in magnitude of growth at least,
equal to Emporia.
But we have ''done" Eldorado, and
our cry now is, "Ho for Wichital" But
how hot the sun is! Our legal friend
willis and oozes like the melting of tai
| low candle under the heat of the burn
| ing wick. He vows that the next par
allel of latitude we cross will be the
Equator itself. But if we are crossing
it and then are nearing the South pole,
it ought soon to grow cooler. No, the
Judge is wrong. 1t continues to get
hotter. We can't enjoy the beautiful
country. All we notice is that it is SIM
liar to Illinois prairie, just slightly more
undulating, and we make the single re-
mark that every man from that State
| Oh H. xryil int
lures over it. 1t will be his Garden of
Eden, his Elysian field. Thereafter our
tongues refuse to wag. They will only
Toll. We should fall asleep if it were
shade cooler. But you can't sleep
with your hand in the fire, much less
with your whole body submerged in a
scalding vapor. just as we are thinking
that the boundary of the treeless Iili-
nois prairie will never be reached, we
catch glimpse of the tops of trees far
ahead of us. Frank, poor horse, sees
them too. Jaded though he is, he pricks
up his ears and starts forward with fresh
impetus. We are soon in the middle of
the stream, clear, sparkling, but not cool.
Nothing is, such a day as this. 1t is the
Whitewater. So say Mr.. Smith and
Mr.. Niccols, of Emporia, whom we
here oYertake.' 1t is a fine creek, and
we are 10th to leave it. We ask our
friends what point they intend to reach
for dinner. Captain Payne's ranch"
is the answer. "Well, then, we shall
make that point too; but how far is it ?"
''Ten of the longest miles you ever trav-
eled in your life" says friend Smith.
This is particularly encouraging this
particularly warm day. We fear that if
the poor horse could have understood it
he would have refused to bulge. But
on we go. We are soon out on the Il
linois prairie again, from which there is
nothing different visible save ourselves
and the sky above us. We go down
one descent; we go up one ascent. We
go down another descent; we go up
another ascent. Another, then another.
Down, then up; down, then up. There
is no change to this monotOny, unless
we commence at the bottom of the hill,
in which case it is up, then down; up,
then down. We begin to look for Cap
tain Payne's ranch before we get half
way there. At last we begin to think
that we certainly have travelled "the
longest len miles" and that we must be
almost there. AS we ascend the hillock
(for the hills are small and the country
/ is not broken) we stretch our necks and
strain our eyes to catch the first glance
of the desired haven. We reach the
-
sky and another small hill. Again we
ascend, again we are disappointed !;
thrice thus, ten times thus. AT last we
do see it. It looks like a small skiff far
out at sea. We approach it, and
find it to be little 1Ox12 dwelling
mostly under ground. The Captain
himself we find to be a genial fellow
and very attentive to the wants of trav-
elers. He tells us that we are within
eleven miles of our destination. So
we hasten through with our dinners,
and are soon out upon the prairie. We
pass by the grave of the two young
men whose death by violence is envel-
oped in SO great mystery. We instinct
lively look each way to assure ourselves
that no attacking foe with like murder
Gus intent is lurking near. We have
reached the highest ridge between the
Captains and the town, from which we
gain our first sight of the great Arkan-
sas Valley. In one half hour more we
are standing on the Main street of the
city of Wichita. What a wonder of
wonders! Only six months old, and
fifty houses. most all of respectable di-
mansions, are huddled together few
rods distant from the mighty Arkansas.
All business houses, too, and each doing
a thriving trade. Almost as many more
buildings are under contract to go up
Immediately, and others are being con-
tracted for. A fine brick hotel is in
process of erection. Brick making is
under way, n kiln being almost ready to
burn. We find here number of form
err residents of Emporia. DIR. Boggs,
who has a fine claim about mile from
the town, and the firne country resi-