William G. is not hurt, and together we trudge on after the
runaways in the hope of overtaking them, which we do some two miles
off. They are in a snowbank, and "nobody hurt".

We are soon on the road again, all serene; though I believe the
Doctor did observe that such a thing would not have occurred under
a monarchial form of government.

We reach Weber station, thirty miles from Salt Lake City and wildly
situated at the foot of the grand Echo Canyon, at 3 o'clock the
following morning. We remain over a day here with James Bromley,
agent of the Overland Stage line, and who is better known on the
plains than Shakspeare is; although Shakspeare has done a good deal
for the stage. James Bromley has seen the Overland line grow up
from its ponyicy; and as Fitz-Green Halleck happily observes, none
know him BUT TO LIKE HIS STYLE. He was intended for an agent. In
his infancy he used to lisp the refrain,

"I want to be an agent,
And with the agents stand."

I part with this kind-hearted gentleman, to whose industry and
ability the Overland line owes much of its success, with sincere
regret; and I hope he will soon get rich enough to transplant his
charming wife from the desert to the "White settlements".

Forward to Fort Bridger, in an open sleigh. Night clear, cold, and
moonlit. Driver Mr. Samuel Smart. Through Echo Canyon to Hanging
Rock Station. The snow is very deep, there is no path, and we
literally shovel our way to Robert Pollock's station, which we