Across America; Or, The Great West and the Pacific Coast — Key Ideas to Explore

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In Category - Geography
Rusling, James Fowler, 1834-1918 Project Gutenberg 2013 Not confirmed
West (U.S.) -- Description and travel; Overland journeys to the Pacific; Pacific States -- Description and travel Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Edition facts

Words 153,759
Reading time 669 min
Text sections 19

This digital edition of Across America; Or, The Great West and the Pacific Coast — Key Ideas to Explore is described by source-level measurements including 153,759 words, 11 hr 9 min estimated reading time, and 19 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 23.5 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “West (U.S.) -- Description and travel,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

A post-Civil War inspection tour of Western military posts, blending official reports with personal observations of landscapes, settlements, and frontier life, as recorded by a Union brevet brigadier-general.
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FROM NEW YORK TO FORT RILEY, KANSAS.

Across America, from New York to San Francisco, may be roughly estimated as three thousand miles. The first third of this occupied us only about three days and three nights, though the whole trip consumed just less than a twelve-month. From New York to St. Louis, _via_ Cincinnati, was our first stage, and of course by railroad. We left New York, Tuesday, July 24, 1866, by the Erie Railway, and on the following Thursday afternoon reached St. Louis in time for a late dinner. Tarrying here a day or two, to pick up some information about the Plains, we passed on to Leavenworth; and thence, after a longer pause to Fort Riley. The Union Pacific Railroad, Eastern Division (or Kansas Pacific, as it is now generally called), halted then at Waumega, some thirty miles from Fort Riley, whence we reached Riley by stage-coach. The coach itself was a lumbering, weather-beaten vehicle, with sorry teams of horses; it was a hot August afternoon, with rolling clouds of dust; we had nine passengers inside and three outside, with freight and baggage everywhere; and altogether this little stage-ride was a good initiation into the mysteries and miseries of stage-coaching across the continent.

From New York to St. Louis is already a series of towns and cities, with the country as a whole well settled up, for America. The Great West, it is soon seen, is no longer the valley of Ohio and the prairies of Illinois. It has long since crossed the Mississippi, and emigrated beyond the Missouri. What used to be called the "West" has already become the centre; and "out west" now means Kansas or Colorado, if anything at all. The Erie road, with its broad-gauge coaches, takes you through the picturesque, as well as rich and fertile regions of northern New Jersey, and western New York, whence the ride through Ohio, down the lovely valley of the Miami to Cincinnati, is substantially as through a garden. Over much of this region, it is plain to be seen, New England has left her mark, never to be effaced. Her school-houses and churches, her intelligence and thrift, are all reproduced (only slightly westernized), and one can see that he is in Yankee-land still at a glance. You might know it, by the omnipresence of white paint and green blinds, if nothing else. You see it in the average inhabitant and detect it in his speech. And yet it is Yankee-land, with enlarged freedom and independence of thought and action, and therefore doubly welcome. Southern Indiana and Illinois, you find rapidly filling up; but they still seem much behind that sunny heart of Ohio, the Miami Valley. Populated largely by the overflow from Kentucky and Tennessee--chiefly the "poor whites" of those former slave states--the results are everywhere unmistakable. Evidently, even to the passing traveller, the average Hoosier or Sucker, as yet, is much behind the average Buckeye, and he will find it a hard task to overtake him. The lineal descendant of the Cavalier and the Corncracker, how can he expect to compete successfully with the regular representative of the Roundhead and the Yankee?

Cincinnati and St. Louis strike you as large and growing cities; but they do not impress you like Chicago, at least as she did before the great fire. They seem to have taken Quaker Philadelphia, as their type and model, rather than buoyant New York. Many of their streets, you find similarly named, and a like atmosphere pervades much of their business. In talking with their magnates of trade and finance, you note a conservative tone, that illy accords with your ideas of the West, and you are inclined to wonder whether the far-famed push and pluck of that romantic region are not myths after all. Buffalo and Toledo, Cleveland and Chicago, however, would soon undeceive you--especially, Chicago. The push and drive, the enterprise and _elan_ of New York, that are reproduced so well along our northern tier of cities, all culminated at Chicago--at least before the fire--until she seemed New York incarnate or even intensified. The metropolis and brain of the northwest, how a day in her busy streets braced and inspired one! With all her brave memories of the past, no wonder she still believes enthusiastically in herself, and even in her ashes doubted not her future!

James F. Rusling, a brevet brigadier-general in the Union army, opens his account with the official orders that sent him west in 1866: a terse directive from Quartermaster-General M. C. Meigs to inspect depots and posts from Fort Leavenworth to the Pacific Coast. The document, countersigned by Lieutenant-General Grant, sets a tone of military precision that pervades the narrative. Yet Rusling’s prose soon shifts between bureaucratic detail and vivid description, as when he notes that Fort Vancouver’s plateau was “everything desirable” but “the unbroken forest was still everywhere around it.” This tension between official duty and personal curiosity shapes the entire work.

Orders as Narrative Frame

The book’s opening pages reproduce Rusling’s orders in full, including the instruction to “keep this Office fully informed, in advance, as to your probable whereabouts.” This bureaucratic scaffolding does more than establish authority; it gives the reader a clear sense of the author’s dual role as inspector and observer. Rusling later explains that the tour aimed to reduce “enormous expenditures” at Western posts, a practical goal that nonetheless allows him to describe landscapes, towns, and people encountered along the way. The orders also authorize him to take a clerk, hinting at the scale of the undertaking. By foregrounding the official mission, Rusling signals that his observations are grounded in firsthand, government-sanctioned travel, lending credibility to his descriptions of remote outposts and frontier conditions.

Encounters with Fellow Travelers

Rusling’s fellow passengers on the Columbia River included “returning miners, going below to winter and recruit,” whom he describes as “rough as they were and merry at times” yet “self-respecting and orderly.” He also notes a group of “Fenian friends” who had raced with his party down Powder River and Grande Ronde Valleys, reappearing later on the same steamer. These brief character sketches reveal Rusling’s attention to social types and his willingness to record the diversity of Western travelers. He mentions Chinese passengers who “behaved civilly, and were treated kindly,” a remark that, while brief, reflects contemporary attitudes and the author’s own observational habits. Such details, scattered through the narrative, give texture to the journey beyond official inspections.

Anecdotes of Commanders

At Fort Vancouver, Rusling recounts conversations with General Steele, who shared stories about Sherman and Grant during the Vicksburg campaign. Steele recalled that Sherman in 1862 was “scary” about Price’s movements, and later admitted his mistake with “customary frankness.” More strikingly, Steele described Sherman’s reaction to Grant’s famous movement to the rear: Sherman supposedly rushed out bareheaded, seized Grant’s hand, and exclaimed, “I congratulate you, General, with all my heart, on the success of your movement. And, by heaven, sir, the movement is yours, too; for nobody else would endorse it!” Rusling presents this as a corrective to newspaper reports of Sherman’s protest, adding that Steele “knew all the facts.” These insider anecdotes, embedded in a travel narrative, offer a rare glimpse into military personalities and command dynamics.

Landscape and Infrastructure

Rusling’s descriptions often blend natural scenery with human infrastructure. Of Fort Vancouver, he notes that the post was “the base for all military operations in that section,” yet the “unbroken forest was still everywhere around it.” He contrasts the official post with Portland, which “seemed to be the natural brain of all that region.” This juxtaposition of military and civilian centers recurs throughout the book. Rusling also remarks on the Columbia River’s “all-sufficing rains and fogs,” a terse observation that hints at the region’s climate without elaboration. His eye for such details—the plateau’s “bold shore,” the forest pressing against the post-grounds—reveals a writer attuned to the interplay between human settlement and the natural world, even as his primary mission remains administrative.

Readers approaching Rusling’s narrative should expect a hybrid text: part official report, part travelogue, part military memoir. The author’s voice shifts between the impersonal language of inspection and the engaged curiosity of a traveler. Pay attention to the moments when the general’s official tone gives way to a more descriptive or anecdotal register—these are the passages where the book’s character emerges most clearly. The excerpts suggest that Rusling is a reliable but not uncritical observer, willing to record both the grandeur of the landscape and the rough edges of frontier life.

I kept thinking about how that inspection tour felt less like a duty and more like someone trying to memorize a place before it changed forever. The lonely posts, the vast quiet—it stayed with me. Venice — Background and Themes carries a similar ache, a city holding its own beauty like a secret. Both feel like watching a photograph fade, gently, on purpose.

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