Yours ever,
SIDNEY COLVIN.
_February, 1892._

NOTES BY THE WAY TO COUNCIL BLUFFS

_Monday._--It was, if I remember rightly, five o'clock when we were all
signalled to be present at the Ferry Depot of the railroad. An emigrant
ship had arrived at New York on the Saturday night, another on the
Sunday morning, our own on Sunday afternoon, a fourth early on Monday;
and as there is no emigrant train on Sunday, a great part of the
passengers from these four ships was concentrated on the train by which
I was to travel. There was a babel of bewildered men, women, and
children. The wretched little booking office, and the baggage-room,
which was not much larger, were crowded thick with emigrants, and were
heavy and rank with the atmosphere of dripping clothes. Open carts full
of bedding stood by the half-hour in the rain. The officials loaded each
other with recriminations. A bearded, mildewed little man, whom I take
to have been an emigrant agent, was all over the place, his mouth full
of brimstone, blustering and interfering. It was plain that the whole
system, if system there was, had utterly broken down under the strain of
so many passengers.

My own ticket was given me at once, and an oldish man, who preserved his
head in the midst of this turmoil, got my baggage registered, and
counselled me to stay quietly where I was till he should give me the
word to move. I had taken along with me a small valise, a knapsack,
which I carried on my shoulders, and in the bag of my railway rug the
whole of "Bancroft's History of the United States" in six fat volumes.
It was as much as I could carry with convenience even for short
distances, but it insured me plenty of clothing, and the valise was at
that moment, and often after, useful for a stool. I am sure I sat for an
hour in the baggage-room, and wretched enough it was; yet, when at last
the word was passed to me, and I picked up my bundles and got under way,
it was only to exchange discomfort for downright misery and danger.

I followed the porters into a long shed reaching downhill from West
Street to the river. It was dark, the wind blew clean through it from
end to end; and here I found a great block of passengers and baggage,
hundreds of one and tons of the other. I feel I shall have a difficulty
to make myself believed; and certainly the scene must have been
exceptional, for it was too dangerous f