8 COLLECTOR'S RAMBLES 



consists of a long train of heavily laden freight cars, 

 with two or three worn-out, disabled passenger cars at 

 the tail end, with a caboose attached for the comfort of 

 the conductors. When first I saw it drawn up in line 

 it reminded me of what Artemus Ward asked of a 

 Southern ticket-agent: "At what time does this string 

 of second-hand coffins leave the station?" After 

 having travelled so far in elegant, clean, and well-kept 

 cars, it was a big come-down to think that the rest of 

 the journey was to be passed in such plain-looking, 

 rank-smelling boxes as the ones before us. There was 

 the usual crowd of parasites at the station who wished 

 to sell all sorts of articles at three times their value, 

 and who often frighten imprudent people into buying 

 much which they do not need. You will sometimes 

 see people buying bread enough for two weeks, expect- 

 ing, if they do not, they may starve to death crossing 

 the " Howling Wilderness," when the truth is that 

 every day on the route you can buy almost anything 

 you want as cheaply as at Omaha. The families were 

 put together by the agent, and the bachelors (myself 

 among the number) had the car next the freight train. 

 The train backed down on the flats near the river; and 

 while waiting there, an express wagon drove up, in 

 which were three men. Two of them were on the 

 seat, the other one half reclining in the body of the 

 wagon, his clothes muddy, his beaver knocked in, a 

 bump on his cheek, and a gash across the bridge of his 



