e can reach. The atmosphere is hazy, with dust and vibrating
waves of heat arising from the ground. Far away to the northwest is
the outline of some mountains, just visible in the dim distance. In
the opposite direction, whence we have come, there is nothing above
the ground but hot space, and dust. Not a living thing in sight but
ourselves and ours.

The animals appear fatigued, jaded. The people appear--well, as to
physical condition, like the animals: generally all look alike. Yet
the people seem hopeful. And why hopeful? The inherent and indomitable
trait of the race which makes it possible for humanity to look over
and past present difficulties, however great, and see some good
beyond. That is why the world "do move." Often, as it was with us,
progress may be slow, but every day counts for a little.

Just here twelve or fifteen miles a day is doing well--very well. From
a slight eminence at one side of the way we may stand and see the
slowly creeping line of wagons and stock, for many miles fore and aft,
as they bend their way in and out, around and over the surface of
knolls and flats, hillocks and gullies. From a distant view they seem
not to be moving at all.

The hour of mid-day arrives, and they stop for the "nooning." There is
nothing growing in the vicinity that the horses and cattle can eat,
and no water except the little in the keg and canteens; so the
carrying animals stand in their yokes and harness, or under saddles,
and the loose stock wait in groups, their thirst unslaked.

As the people come out of the wagons and go about the business of the
hour we see the marks of the elements upon them. The women wear "poke"
bonnets and gingham dresses. The men are unshaven. All are sunburnt to
a rich, leathern brown. Some are thin, and at this particular time,
wearing a serious expression. They are not as unhappy as they look,
their principal trouble of the moment being merely anxiety to satisfy
prodigious and healthy appetites.

There, under the stress of the midsummer sun, now in the zenith, no
shade, no protection from the flying dust, they proceed cheerfully to
build a fire, of sticks and dry weeds; they fry bacon and bake
biscuits, prepare large pots of coffee, and they eat, from tin plates,
and drink from tin cups.

No one says, "This is awful!" They laugh as they eat, saying, "Good;
ain't it?"

This is not a cheerful view altogether of the retrospective; but a
sketch true to life, as life was ther