Often, as the trains swept by, the engineers would salute with a deafening blast of whistles, frightening the donkeys and entertaining the passengers. Some of the prairie towns which look large on the map have entirely disappeared. In one case, I found more dead citizens in the cemetery than live ones in the village. Frequently, as a means of diversion, I left the saddle to visit these white-chimney villages of the dead. Such might be considered a grave sort of amusement, but really some of the gravestones contained interesting epitaphs. In one instance the following caught my eye:
"God saw best from us to sever
Darling Michael, whom we love;
He has gone from us forever,
To the happy realms above."
Imagine the shock to my sobered senses on reading these lines cut on a white-washed wooden slab, close by:
"Here lays Ezekiel Dolder,
Who died from a jolt in the shoulder;
He tried to shoot snipe
While lighting his pipe,