-waggons followed the engine--certainly a score;
then came the Chinese, then we, then the families, and the rear was
brought up by the conductor in what, if I have it rightly, is called his
caboose. The class to which I belonged was of course far the largest,
and we ran over, so to speak, to both sides; so that there were some
Caucasians among the Chinamen, and some bachelors among the families.
But our own car was pure from admixture, save for one little boy of
eight or nine, who had the whooping-cough. At last, about six, the long
train crawled out of the Transfer Station and across the wide Missouri
river to Omaha, westward bound.

It was a troubled uncomfortable evening in the cars. There was thunder
in the air, which helped to keep us restless. A man played many airs
upon the cornet, and none of them were much attended to, until he came
to "Home, sweet home." It was truly strange to note how the talk ceased
at that, and the faces began to lengthen. I have no idea whether
musically this air is to be considered good or bad; but it belongs to
that class of art which may be best described as a brutal assault upon
the feelings. Pathos must be relieved by dignity of treatment. If you
wallow naked in the pathetic, like the author of "Home, sweet home," you
make your hearers weep in an unmanly fashion; and even while yet they
are moved, they despise themselves and hate the occasion of their
weakness. It did not come to tears that night, for the experiment was
interrupted. An elderly, hard-looking man, with a goatee beard and about
as much appearance of sentiment as you would expect from a retired
slaver, turned with a start and bade the performer stop that "damned
thing." "I've heard about enough of that," he added; "give us something
about the good country we're going to." A murmur of adhesion ran round
the car; the performer took the instrument from his lips, laughed and
nodded, and then struck into a dancing measure; and, like a new
Timotheus, stilled immediately the emotion he had raised.

The day faded; the lamps were lit; a party of wild young men, who got
off next evening at North Platte, stood together on the stern platform,
singing "The Sweet By-and-bye" with very tuneful voices; the chums began
to put up their beds; and it seemed as if the business of the day were
at an end. But it was not so; for, the train stopping at some station,
the cars were instantly thronged with the natives, wives and fathers,
young men