[He gets into his berth, and after cries of "Good for California!"
"You're all right, William Nye!" and "You're several ahead yet!" the
occupants of the different berths gradually relapse into silence, and at
last, as the car lunges onward through the darkness, nothing is heard but
the rhythmical clank of the machinery, with now and then a burst of
audible slumber from MRS. ROBERTS'S aunt MARY.]




II.


At Worcester, where the train has made the usual stop, THE PORTER, with
his lantern on his arm, enters the car, preceding a gentleman somewhat
anxiously smiling; his nervous speech contrasts painfully with the
business-like impassiveness of THE PORTER, who refuses, with an air of
incredulity, to enter into the confidences which the gentleman seems
reluctant to bestow.

MR. EDWARD ROBERTS. This is the Governor Marcy, isn't it?

THE PORTER. Yes, sah.

MR. ROBERTS. Came on from Albany, and not from New York?

THE PORTER. Yes, sah, it did.

MR. ROBERTS. Ah! it must be all right. I--