appear on the table occasionally, and we hear of chickens farther
on. Nine miles from here we enter Nebraska territory. Here is an
occasionally fenced farm, and the ranches have bar-rooms. Buffalo
skins and buffalo tongues are on sale at most of the stations. We
reach South Platte on the 2d, and Fort Kearney on the 3d. The 7th
Iowa Calvary are here, under the command of Captain Wood. At
Cottonwood, a days ride back, we had taken aboard Major O'Brien,
commanding the troops there, and a jovial warrior he is, too.

Meals are now down to 50 cents, and a good deal better than when
they were 1 dol.

KANSAS, 105 miles from Atchison. Atchison! No traveller by sea
ever longed to set his foot on shore as we longed to reach the end
of our dreary coach-ride over the wildest part of the whole
continent. How we talked Atchison, and dreamed Atchison, for the
next fifty hours! Atchison, I shall always love you. You were
evidently mistaken, Atchison, when you told me that in case I
"lectured" there, immense crowds would throng to the hall; but you
are very dear to me. Let me kiss you for your maternal parent!

We are passing through the reservation of the Otoe Indians, who
long ago washed the war-paint from their faces, buried the
tomahawk, and settled down into quiet, prosperous farmers.

. . . .

We rattle leisurely into Atchison on a Sunday evening. Lights
gleam in the windows of milk-white churches, and they tell us, far
better than anything else could, that we are back to civilization