s the first
of August we found the colored people out in a well-filled procession,
celebrating this, one of their great Emancipation days. Ida having seen
very few colored people during her life was furnished an amusing
entertainment. We also visited Lawrence, which is so marked in Kansas
annals, and Topeka, the capital, but as my experience in this State
differs so materially from that in any other (not making sufficient
through my sales to cover expenses), I will hurriedly pass it by.

We took the sleeping car at Topeka, but, as a "washout" had destroyed the
track for some distance, I left the train with the other passengers, and
walked with precision over culverts and places of danger with ofttimes
only a narrow plank for my track. A gentleman who kindly led me smilingly
said this was indeed "walking by faith," and it was true blind eyes never
have aught but faith "as a lamp to their feet and a guide to their path."

After leaving Salina there was nothing to be seen but a blank, desolate
plain, as monotonous as a silent, sailless sea, grimly varied by an
occasional station, with a few "dugouts" for houses. The mail on this
train was most unceremoniously delivered by being thrown from the cars,
and it was very amusing to witness the confusion and rush for its
contents, for the love-laden and business-burdened missives are as dear to
these people as to the most cultured members of society.

The frequent recurrence of the little sand-hill communities, known as
prairie dog cities, was of novel interest to us, and the habits of these
creatures a curious study. They build their sand-hill habitations as
skillfully as the beaver erects his dam, and are so untiring in following
their instinct of self-preservation that they stand as constant sentinels
at the entrance of their homes, and in any case of danger play to such
perfection the role of "the artful dodger" that they are never caught.

It is a singular fact that these animals are very rarely killed, and if by
chance some "unlucky dog" should lose his life he is hurried out of sight
by his devoted companions with so much celerity that his body is never
found.

Fifty miles before reaching Denver the snow crowned tops of Gray's and
James' Peaks are clearly revealed, while from one point alone will Pike's
Peak allow the traveler a glimpse of his glorious grandeur. We were told
that the former mountains were more frequently visible at a distance of
one hundred miles. We n