IRKSOMENESS OF THE WORK 287 



"Wednesday night [no date]. 



... I hoped that my delay at Albany was the last, but I had a dreary 

 wait of five hours at the Cleveland depot. ... I have never had a more 

 tedious and lonesome journey than this has been. It seems a month since 

 I started and an age is laid out in the five days to come. I have half a notion 



that the Survey bill is fated to fail. P has not yet got in the bill and 



this is much against it. He cannot act; he is a sort of McClellan in legisla- 

 tion. . . . 



Dec. 22nd. 



. . . Another day has gone and I come to my "fourthly." About the 

 only good thing in my days at present is their going. ... I am really 

 tempted to resign this Survey business, but it would be cowardly at this 

 moment. I shall have to wait until next autumn, at least then I must do 

 something to get the load of this winter journey off my shoulders. My 

 highest ambition is to do a [word illegible] work and do it well. I have done 

 my share of running up and down this world, for the present at least. . . . 



FRANKFOBT, Dec. 23. 



... I had a charming letter from you yesterday, which quite cheered 

 me up. ... I did not come directly to the hotel, but went to see the Gov- 

 ernor ; so I told Jeff [the porter], who was at the station, to pick me a room. 

 He remembered that we were here before, so, with a fineness that his white 

 betters would not have shown, he chose this, for which I thank him. I may 

 be able to start up the river on Sunday evening, which should bring me home 

 on Thursday. 



Louisville Hotel, Dec. 24th. 



... I came here belated by the train, full of happy people going here 

 and there to their Xmas Eve. This town is a rattle of sounds ; they are merry 

 enough, I dare say ; but I am tired, so they are noise to me. . . . Have got 

 my work in pretty good trim ; it moves on fairly. ... So far I have been 

 quite well, but to-night I am extremely weary, I have never had a journey 

 go more irksomely by. I have only been a week and it seems a month since 

 I left home. . . . 



Dec. 27, '75. 



... It appears that the Survey bill is likely to pass the legislature. 

 I am glad for the sake of my hungry young friends and sorry for our own. 

 I am writing in the car ; a drunken man is yelling like a demon and prancing 

 like a devil a coarse crowd, but full of a fiery animal vigor which in its 

 way is fine. 



