Nine Thousand Miles
On A Pullman Train
AN ACCOUNT
OF A
Tour of Railroad Conductors
From Philadelphia
TO THE
Pacific Coast and Return

By M. M. SHAW
Philadelphia
Allen, Lane & Scott, Printers and Publishers
Nos. 1211-13 Clover Street
1898
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1898,
BY M. M. SHAW,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
TO THE TRUE AND LOYAL WOMEN
OF OUR PARTY,
THE BELOVED AND CHERISHED COMPANIONS
OF OUR HEARTHS AND HOMES,
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS.

INTRODUCTION.

The writer is not sure that this work will give satisfaction to his many friends who have asked for it; the experience of one is not the experience of all, and many incidents will be remembered, undoubtedly, by different members of the party that are not mentioned in these pages, from the fact that they are unknown to the narrator, not having come under his observation. The difficulty lies in producing an account of our trip from personal notes that will meet the expectation of all. The chief object of this book is to furnish interesting information relative to the party’s whereabouts from day to day, giving the names of many kind friends who did so much toward making our journey an interesting and happy one, and who will ever be remembered with feelings of the highest regard by each member of the party. The writer has no apology to offer to critics. Geographical inaccuracies and grammatical inconsistencies can either be accepted or overlooked, at the pleasure of the reader, whom the author hopes will be charitable enough to believe that he believes what he has written, whether it is true or not.

Shortly after the meeting of the twenty-fifth session of the Grand Division of the Order of Railway Conductors at Atlanta, Ga., in May, 1895, a few of the Pennsylvania Railroad conductors running into Broad Street Station, Philadelphia, got together and started a movement toward the organization of a party to visit the twenty-sixth session, in Los Angeles, Cal., in May, 1897. Mr. Chas. E. Wyman was chosen president and manager and Mr. Wm. J. Maxwell secretary and treasurer of the club. It was known as the Pennsylvania Railroad Conductors’ Excursion. Meetings were held from time to time to complete the organization, formulate plans, and perfect arrangements, and George H. Holgate, Esq., president of the Association of American Inventors, kindly gave the use of his large, comfortable office in the Betz Building, on Broad Street, Philadelphia, for this purpose. A friend of Manager Wyman designed an unique and handsome card, which was submitted to Stephen Greene, Esq., who lithographed and printed several thousand and generously presented them to the excursion. The committee called at the clothing establishment of Wanamaker & Brown, Sixth and Market Streets, to purchase tourist caps for use of the party on the trip, and were liberally provided with all they wanted, free of cost, by the kind and generous members of the firm. The officials of the Pennsylvania Railroad looked with favor upon the scheme, and it was largely due to their kindly efforts and influence that the excursion was such a grand success. Mr. George W. Boyd, Assistant General Passenger Agent, interested himself greatly in our trip, and under his direction the Tourist Department outlined and arranged the itinerary, which was printed in neat form and presented to the party by Allen, Lane & Scott. This itinerary is published in these pages in its original form, and while the route was adhered to it will be noticed we ran about three days late, delayed by a washout east of El Paso.

Many of the illustrations in this book were prepared from photographs taken by members of the party, also from photographs kindly presented to the author by Prof. T. S. C. Lowe. We are also indebted to the Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company, Northern Pacific Railway Company, and Denver and Rio Grande Railroad Company for illustrations of scenery along their lines.

Our treatment by officers of the Pullman Company was extremely satisfactory, their generosity being highly appreciated. To one and all of these gentlemen who so kindly contributed toward our happiness and pleasure the Pennsylvania Railroad Conductors’ Excursion gives, through the writer, a rousing vote of thanks.

M. M. S.

Detailed Time-Table and Condensed
ITINERARY
OF THE
PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD CONDUCTORS’ TOUR
TO THE GOLDEN GATE.

LIST OF PASSENGERS.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE.

C. E. Wyman, President and Manager.
Wm. J. Maxwell, Secretary and Treasurer.
George W. Brown, John H. Reagan,
Walter W. Terry.

Pennsylvania Railroad Conductors’
Excursion to California.

SATURDAY, MAY 8th, 1897.

The hands on the large clock that denotes the standard time in the great corridor of Broad Street Station, Philadelphia, point to the hour 10 A. M.; an unusual commotion is noticed in the mammoth train shed, which in any hour of the day or night is filled with trains loading and discharging their cargoes of human freight, ever presenting a scene of hustling, bustling activity. The unusual commotion referred to is caused by the departure of the Pennsylvania Railroad Conductors’ Excursion to California. Fully one thousand friends and relatives have gathered on the extensive train platform to see them off; thirty minutes of promiscuous kissing, hugging, tears, smiles, hand shaking, and good-byes, then “all aboard,” and at 10.30 A. M. the five-car vestibule train rolls out over the elevated tracks bound for a journey of 9,000 miles. The notebook crank and the kodak fiend are aboard, and it is hoped that it will not be regretted that they have come. The kodak fiends are Bros. Ed. Foster, Joe Ristein, and Billy Haas, who succeed in getting some very good snaps at the train before starting, and the Lord only knows what else was snapped at, for the snapping was kept up almost continually for the next thirty-one days. The notebook crank is the writer, who, with the ever-present notebook in hand, starts in after the train starts to make an inventory of the outfit.

The first person encountered is the good-looking and gentlemanly train conductor, W. E. Bostick, who volunteers the information that the train is running as second No. 25 over the Philadelphia Division, Philadelphia to Harrisburg; that it gives him great pleasure to run the train, for he considers it a mark of honor. We are drawn by P. R. R. engine No. 31, in charge of Engineer J. Stroh, and fired by C. B. Lewis. Next to the engine is parlor combined car No. 4808, with baggage end loaded with sixty-two pieces of baggage, two barrels, and thirty-two cases of nourishment, in charge of George H. Anderson, the colored janitor of the conductors’ room in Broad Street Station, Philadelphia, who, because of his well-known character for faithfulness, honesty, and good nature, is taken along, and placed in the responsible position of baggage master and general cork extractor. The smoking end of the car is furnished with twelve movable parlor chairs and two tables, and the floor is covered with Brussels carpet. The Pullman dining car “Lafayette,” in charge of Dining-car Conductor Mr. Tom McDonald, comes next.

Introducing myself to Mr. McDonald, I find him a very agreeable gentleman, who kindly gives me what information I want, also a bill of fare. The latter makes my mouth water in anticipation of what I may expect when the dinner hour arrives. This is what with keen appreciation and fast increasing appetite I read:—

ORDER OF RAILWAY CONDUCTORS’ SPECIAL.
EN ROUTE TO LOS ANGELES AND RETURN.
Pullman Dining Car Service.
May 8th, 1897.

DINNER.
Ox Joints. Consomme.
Cucumbers. Olives.
Boiled Halibut. Egg Sauce.
Parisienne Potatoes.
Boiled Leg of Mutton. Caper Sauce.
Apple Fritters. Wine Sauce.
Prime Roast Beef.
Roast Long Island Spring Duck. Apple Sauce.
Mashed Potatoes. Boiled New Potatoes.
Boiled Onions. Beets. New Green Peas.
Tomato Salad au Mayonnaise.
Bread Pudding. Cognac Sauce.
Ice Cream. Preserved Fruits.
Assorted Cake. Marmalade. Dry Canton Ginger.
English and Graham Wafers. Fruit.
Roquefort and Edam Cheese. Bent’s Biscuit.
Café Noir.

“Mr. McDonald,” says I, “I do not doubt your ability to feed us as per bill of promise, but I am curious to know where you keep all this material and how you prepare it for the table?” “It is easily explained; I will show you,” is the reply. “Built here in this end of the car is a large cupboard refrigerator in which can be stored a large amount of stuff, underneath the car are two large ice chests in which can be placed several hundred pounds of meat, and on top of the car you will find a large tank containing many gallons of water. In the other end of the car you will find the kitchen, where the victuals are prepared, and the sideboard containing the dishes and other ware belonging to the dining car. If it were necessary to do so, we could stock this car with material enough at one time to last a party of one hundred persons one week; but ordinarily we lay in but a limited amount, as provisions or other material is furnished as needed from the Pullman supply stations en route, thus we can always have it good and fresh.”

“You seem to have lots of help,” I remarked, as I noticed nine or ten neat, gentlemanly-looking mulattoes in their snow-white coats and aprons bustling about the car.

“Yes, I am pleased to say that you can expect excellent service from the cooks and waiters in this car. Mr. Martin and Mr. Bostwick, of the Pullman palace car service, have kindly furnished me with men of which it can be said there are no better in the service.” “Can you give me their names?” “Certainly; the cooks are: Chief, R. W. Moore; assistants, H. F. Robinson, T. Allen, F. L. Litt; waiters, W. Hill, A. Beard, O. Fisher, C. Coleman, C. Jackson. We have ten tables in the car, each table seats four, which enables us to accommodate forty persons at a time. Each waiter has been assigned his place, knows just what he has to do, and while there may at times be a little delay in filling orders, there is never any confusion.”

“There is another thing,” continues Mr. McDonald, “which no doubt you will notice, and that is our strict adherence to the law of cleanliness. If there is one rule of the dining-car service more imperative than another, it is the one that declares that everything must be clean. The coats and aprons of the waiters must be pure and spotless as an angel’s robe, napkins and table linen must

never be used the second time, no matter how little soiled. This is a rule that at all times must be rigidly enforced, and it would cost me my situation to allow it to be violated.”

Thanking Mr. McDonald for his kind information, I turn my back on the “Lafayette” for the time being, entirely convinced that a first-class fully-equipped dining car is the greatest wonder that ever went on wheels.

Next to the “Lafayette” I find the sleeper “Marco.” I also find as I emerge from the narrow passageway, which is an unavoidable nuisance in all Pullman cars, the genial, good-natured, and good-looking sleeping-car conductor, Miles H. Suter, who has charge of the three Pullman sleepers that are on the train.

“Mr. Suter,” I said, “the Pullman people have given us a fine train.”

“Yes,” he replied. “There are no more substantial or more comfortable cars in the Pullman service than these. In one of them a person can ride many hundreds of miles and not become fatigued. You will find the motion of these cars very agreeable and easy. They were selected for this trip because of this admirable qualification, and as far as ease and comfort goes I predict for your party a very pleasant tour. Another thing,” continued Mr. Suter, “I have already noticed, which will contribute much to your comfort, and which is lacking in most excursion parties, is that you have plenty of room, and so are not crowded. The gentlemen who have arranged the excursion deserve a great deal of credit for the excellent judgment they have exercised in not having too many or too few, but just enough. There are no vacancies and no one is crowded. It was also wise to have no children along, for little folks often need attention that cannot be given them on a journey of this kind, and their mothers need rest instead of the worriment that comes from having the care of little ones on their hands.”

“Mr. Suter,” I remarked, as a genteel colored man in a neat uniform come through the car, “it must be a very laborious task when night comes for one man to convert all these seats into beds, and in the morning change them back again.”

“Yes, it seems like a great deal of work, but an experienced porter will soon make the change. I have three good men, one to each car, and you have only to watch Dennis Jackson in the ‘Marco,’ Dick Pettus in the ‘Milton,’ or George Custis in the ‘Orchis,’ making up the berths, to be convinced that by a man who understands the business the work is more quickly and easily accomplished than one would suppose possible. Everything must be kept clean and tidy, pillow-cases and sheets changed daily, and towels used but once. Every time a towel is used a clean one takes its place. Cleanliness is an important rule in the Pullman service, and we are obliged to strictly enforce it.”

Thanking Mr. Suter for his kind information I turn my attention to the occupants of the car. State room A is occupied by Conductors Suter and McDonald.

Section 1 by Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Horner. Brother Horner is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division. Mrs. Horner is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 2 by Colonel and Mrs. John T. Layfield. Brother Layfield is secretary and treasurer of Wilmington Division No. 224, and a conductor on the Delaware

Division; he served on the staff of Governor Benjamin Biggs of Delaware several years ago, thus earning the title of colonel.

Section 3 by Mr. and Mrs. M. M. Shaw. Brother Shaw is P. C. C. of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Central Division.

Section 4 by Mr. and Mrs. Charles E. Wyman. Brother Wyman is a member of Wilmington Division No. 224, and a conductor on the Maryland Division; he is president and manager of the excursion and has worked to make it a success.

Section 5 by Mr. and Mrs. John A Reilly. Brother Reilly is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division. Mrs. Reilly is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 6 by Mr. and Mrs. William J. Maxwell. Brother Maxwell is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division; he is secretary and treasurer of 162, also of the excursion, and works hard in the interest of the same. Mrs. Maxwell is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 7 by Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Springer. Brother Springer is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division. Mrs. Springer is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 8 by Mr. and Mrs. George W. Brown. Brother Brown is A. C. C. and a trustee of West Philadelphia Division No. 162; he is a member of the excursion executive committee, and has the welfare of the party at heart. Mrs. Brown is a member and president of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 9 by Mr. and Mrs. George W. Dale. Brother Dale is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division.

Section 10 by Mr. and Mrs. Walter W. Terry. Brother Terry is a conductor on the New York Division, and a member and trustee of West Philadelphia Division No. 162; he is a member of the excursion executive committee, the heavyweight of the party, whose herculean strength and sound judgment can always be relied upon.

Section 11 by Mr. and Mrs. James M. Matthews. Brother Matthews is a member and a P. C. C. Conductor of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Schuylkill Division.

Section 12 by Brothers John H. Reagan and Charles J. McCarty. Brother Reagan is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division; he is a member of the excursion executive committee, and is keenly alive to all that pertains to the welfare and pleasure of the party. Brother McCarty is a member of Susquehanna Division No. 331, and a conductor on the Frederick Division. Brothers Reagan and McCarty enjoy the freedom of bachelorship, and are general favorites with the ladies.

Drawing room 13 is occupied by Colonel and Mrs. Mitchell. Brother Mitchell is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division; he is well known as a genial, good-hearted fellow, and was given the title of “Colonel” several years ago by his associates because of his entertaining and hospitable disposition.

Leaving the “Marco” with its happy occupants, whose comforts will be looked after by the polite and attentive porter, Dennis Jackson, I passed through the vestibule into the next car, “Milton,” which I found similar in almost every respect to the “Marco.” Meeting the porter, stalwart, good-natured Dick Pettus, I informed him that I had visited the “Milton” in order to obtain the position and names of the occupants.

“I’m not much acquainted with anybody yet,” replied Dick, “but don’t think I’ll have any trouble, as everybody seems to be all right and happy.”

“Yes,” I answered, as I took a glance at the occupants of the car, “you will find them all first rate people, and all right in the daytime, but be careful and keep the doors locked and your eye on them at night, for there are two or three in this car who are afflicted with somnambulism, and they might walk off the train or get into the wrong berth while in such a condition.” “Good Lord,” was Dick’s reply as he vanished into the toilet room. I find the state room in the “Milton” reserved for a hospital. It is hoped it will not be needed for such a purpose.

Section 1 is occupied by Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Goff. Brother Goff is a member of Camden Division No. 170, and a conductor on the West Jersey and Seashore Division.

Section 2 by Mr. and Mrs. H. L. Wilson. Brother Wilson is a member of Camden Division No. 170, and a conductor on the West Jersey and Seashore Division.

Section 3 by Mr. and Mrs. Thomas B. Gilliland. Brother Gilliland is a member of Dauphin Division No. 143, and a conductor on the Middle Division. Mrs. Gilliland is a member of Keystone Division No. 47, L. A.

Section 4 by Mr. and Mrs. L. E. Sheppard. Brother Sheppard is a member of Camden Division No. 170, and a yardmaster on the Amboy Division. Mrs. Sheppard is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Section 5 by Mr. and Mrs. S. N. Kilgore. Brother Kilgore is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division.

Section 6, Mr. and Mrs. D. R. Sparks. Brother Sparks is a member of Camden Division No. 170, and a conductor on the West Jersey Division.

Section 7 by Mr. and Mrs. E. A. Kalkman. Brother Kalkman is a member of Capitol Division No. 378, and a conductor on the Maryland Division.

Section 8 by Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Morris. Brother Morris is a member of Wilmington Division No. 224, and a conductor on the Maryland Division.

Section 9 by Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Foster. Brother Foster is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division.

Section 10 by Mr. and Mrs. I. M. Cohee. Brother Cohee is a member of Wilmington Division No. 224, and a conductor on the Maryland Division.

Section 11 by Mr. and Mrs. James Dougherty. Brother Dougherty is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division.

Section 12 by Mr. and Mrs. James H. Moore. Brother Moore is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division.

Drawing room by Doctor and Mrs. C. E. Mattson. Brother Mattson is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division; he is a graduate of Jefferson Medical College, and has quite an extensive practice, to which he devotes his time when not engaged in his duties on the road.

Brother Mattson has kindly consented to give the party his professional care while on the trip, if needed, but it is earnestly hoped that there will be but a very few occasions for an exercise of his professional skill and that his labors in this direction will be light.

Entering the “Orchis,” the fifth and last car on the train, I found the polite and obliging porter, George Custis, busily engaged in the duties pertaining to his position. His passengers all looked comfortable and George looked happy.

“George, do you like fun?” I quietly asked as he passed near me to deposit a huge telescope valise in the state room. “Yes, sir; somewhat,” he replied, with a questioning look in his eye. “You will have a circus on your hands, my boy, or I fail to read the combination,” I added, as he emerged from the state room. I had glanced down the line as I entered the car and noticed among the occupants some well-known characters for fun and frolic, and conclude there is a picnic in store for the porter and passengers of the sleeper “Orchis.”

Turning now to the business that brought me to the “Orchis,” I find that the state room is occupied by Messrs. Charles Sloane and William Haas. Brother Sloane is a member of Quaker City Division No. 204, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division; he is the Nimrod of the party, and has come equipped with fishing tackle and rifle. He is well acquainted with some of the best hunting grounds in the West, and is familiar with the haunts and habits of bear and deer. Brother Haas is a member of R. B. Hawkins Division No. 114, and a conductor on West Penn Division; he has a kodak with which he expects to secure some interesting views. Brothers Sloane and Haas enjoy the privileges and liberties of single-blessedness, but are not averse to the society of ladies.

Section 1 by Messrs. Joseph Schuler and John B. Crispen. Brother Schuler is a member of R. B. Hawkins Division No. 114, and a conductor on the Pittsburgh Division. Brother Crispen is secretary and treasurer of Renovo Division No. 333, and a conductor on the Middle Division, Philadelphia and Erie Railroad. He is a bachelor, young in years, and inclined to be shy in the presence of the ladies.

Section 2 by Messrs. T. J. Denniston and J. J. Restein. Brother Denniston is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division; he is a bachelor, arrived at the years of discretion, cautious and modest in his habits, an excellent conversationalist, whose companionship is appreciated and enjoyed by all. Brother Restein is a member of Wilmington Division No. 224, and a conductor on the New York, Philadelphia and Norfolk Railroad. He keeps his kodak always handy, for it is his purpose to try to obtain some of the best views of incidents and scenery on the trip.

Section 3 by Mr. and Mrs. Robert T. Elder. Brother Elder is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division.

Section 4 by Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Leary. Brother Leary is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Schuylkill Division; he has been but a few days married, and both bride and groom receive the congratulation of many friends in being so fortunate as to be able to take such an enjoyable wedding tour. May sunshine, health, and happiness be ever theirs.

Section 5 by Mr. P. J. Barrett and his sister, Miss Anna S. Barrett. Brother Barrett is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division. Being a single man, he had no wife to accompany him, but he did the next best thing and brought his sister, a commendable act that redounds to Brother Barrett’s credit. A man that is good to his sister will be good to a wife. Mark it!

Section 6, Mr. William H. Post and daughter, Miss Ella L. Post. Brother Post is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division. Mrs. Post being unable, on account of ill health, to accompany the excursion, permitted her daughter to take her place, a privilege the young lady highly appreciates and enjoys.

Section 7, Mr. and Mrs. J. N. Climenson. Brother Climenson is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division.

Section 8, Mr. and Mrs. R. J. Foulon. Brother Foulon is a member and P. C. C. of Quaker City Division No. 204, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division.

Section 9, Mr. and Mrs. H. R. Haefner. Brother Haefner is C. C. of Susquehanna Division No. 331, and a conductor on the Philadelphia Division.

Section 10, Mr. and Mrs. C. F. Smith. Brother Smith is a member of Susquehanna Division No. 331, and a conductor on the Frederick Division.

Section 11, Mr. and Mrs. T. J. McKernan. Brother McKernan is a member of Neptune Division No. 169, and assistant passenger yardmaster at Jersey City.

Section 12, Mr. and Mrs. M. Houston. Brother Houston is S. C. of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Schuylkill Division. Mrs. Houston is a member of Erickson Division No. 5, L. A.

Drawing room, Messrs. C. E. Waddington, O. Williams, and H. H. Taylor. Brother Waddington is C. C. of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division; Brother Williams is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the Maryland Division; Brother Taylor is a member of West Philadelphia Division No. 162, and a conductor on the New York Division. Brothers Waddington and Williams are unmarried, but it is not known for how long. We can only wait and see.

On the rear platform stood Brakeman T. M. Tobin, who was selected by Trainmaster Simms to accompany Conductor Bostick as flagman because of his well-known adherence to the rules that govern this important position. We are spinning along at about a fifty mile per hour rate of speed, and have passed through some of the finest farming country in the world. A “fleeting view” is all we get, but one glance is sufficient to show us fine, substantial buildings and fences in good repair and men busily engaged in preparing the soil for the reception of seed.

We have passed the city of Lancaster and are nearing Harrisburg. Dinner has been announced, and I retrace my steps to the dining car to find the tables filled. Although hungry I console myself with the thought that “there are others, lots of others,” and that in my misery I had lots of company. In the meantime I avail myself of the opportunity of ascertaining who our guests are, as a number of gentlemen accompanied us from Philadelphia.

Glancing up the line of tables, I see Trainmasters Frank Carlisle of the Maryland, James G. Ruth of the Central, Walter B. Gormley of the Schuylkill, and Rees L. Hannum of the Delaware Extension and Kensington Divisions; Yardmasters L. H. Smith, Kensington, and Anthony Hughes, Fifteenth and Washington Avenue, and George Stults, assistant secretary of West Philadelphia Division No. 162. They seem to be having a good time, and are all bravely battling with Jersey mutton and Long Island spring duck.

In the centre of one of the tables is a magnificent bouquet of choice flowers, presented to the party in Philadelphia by Messrs. Myers & Lautman, florists, of Wyndmoor, Chestnut Hill. It is much admired by all for its beauty and fragrance. As the tables became vacant they were rapidly filled up by those in waiting, and it was not long until the entire party had partaken of a dinner that was admitted by all to be hard to beat, and a credit to Conductor McDonald and his competent and obliging help.

At 1.22 P. M. we arrived at Harrisburg, where a short stop of eight minutes was made in changing engines. We bid adieu to our guests, receiving from them many congratulations and compliments as to our outfit and prospects, and best wishes for a happy trip and safe return. The jovial trainmaster of the Central Division, as he bade us goodbye, said: “You people could not travel in better form or fare better if you were a party of millionaires. I am sure you will have a good time.”

Whole-souled, big-hearted Frank Carlisle heaved a great sigh as he shook hands with Manager Wyman and Colonel Mitchell, and with a tear in his eye murmured, “Boys, I wish I could go with you.” Walt Gormley and George Stults turned their backs on the crowd to hide their emotion as “all aboard” rang out, and the last seen of “Tony” Hughes he was struggling in the grasp of Lew Smith and Rees Hannum, who had to hold him to prevent him from boarding the now fast-receding train, they knowing full well that business at Fifteenth and Washington Avenue would suffer did they not take “Tony” back with them.

It was just 1.30 P. M. when we left Harrisburg, drawn by P. R. R. engine No. 32, handled by Engineer John Ficks and fired by Jesse Reynolds. Conductor A. W. Black had charge of the train from Harrisburg to Altoona, with Flagman J. S. Wagner and Brakeman A. Gable. W. Brooke Moore, trainmaster of the Middle Division, was a guest on the train from Harrisburg to Altoona. We arrived at Altoona 4.50 P. M. and left at 4.57 P. M. with P. R. R. engine No. 867, Engineer F. W. Masterson, Fireman E. W. Pugh, Conductor W. B. Chislett, Flagman Frank Bollinger, Brakemen John Cline and C. D. Chamberlain. As guests we had C. W. Culp, trainmaster Pittsburgh Division, and D. M. Perine, assistant master mechanic, of Altoona, who accompanied the party to Pittsburgh.

Six miles west of Altoona we reach Kittanning Point and circle round the famous Horseshoe Curve. From this point a magnificent view of Alleghany Mountain scenery can be seen. Nine miles further and we reach the highest elevation on our trip across the Alleghanies and pass Cresson, a beautiful summer resort, the

location of the noted “Mountain House,” whose marvelous reputation for rates and rations attracts the bon-ton patronage of the world.

We now enter the Conemaugh country and note its picturesque hills and mountain ridges, among which winds and wriggles the historic Conemaugh River, which at present seems but little more than a harmless, babbling brook; but when the rains fall and the snows melt, and this sparkling little creek receives the waters from a hundred hills, it becomes a very demon in its resistless fury. For eight miles we have followed this stream and part company with it as we pass through the city of Johnstown. Johnstown will ever remember the Conemaugh River, flowing as it does through the very centre of the city. It is a constant menace to the tranquillity and security of the people, and in yonder hillside cemetery two thousand glistening tombstones bear sad and silent testimony to the awful horrors of a Conemaugh flood.

It has grown dark and we are approaching Pittsburgh. A stop is made at East Liberty, and a delegation of brothers from R. B. Hawkins Division No. 114 of Pittsburgh get aboard and accompany us into Pittsburgh. The visitors kindly present each one of our party with a bouquet of roses. We arrive at Pittsburgh 8.12 P. M. and stop for eighteen minutes, leaving at 8.30 (7.30 Central) P. M. Time changes now from Eastern to Central, which makes us leave at 7.30 instead of 8.30. To some of us this is rather a perplexing thing, for we are leaving Pittsburgh forty-two minutes before we arrive there. A number of our party are setting their watches to Central time, I will allow mine to remain as it is, and will use Eastern time in my notes in connection with the Standard time of whatever locality we may be in.

Left Pittsburgh with P. C. C. & St. L. engine No. 183, Engineer A. F. Winchell, Fireman O. Brown, who runs us to Dennison, Ohio, 93 miles. Conductor L. E. Schull, Brakemen W. A. Chambers and E. S. Chambers go with us to Columbus, Ohio, 193 miles. We almost regret that it is night, for we desire to see the country. At 9.50 (8.50 Central) P. M. we arrive at Steubenville, 43 miles from Pittsburgh, and stop five minutes for water.

We are now on the Pittsburgh Division of the Pennsylvania lines, operated by the Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway Company. The Pittsburgh Division extends from Pittsburgh, Pa., to Columbus, Ohio, a distance of 193 miles. Most of the party have turned in and at 11.30 (10.30 Central), just as our train stops at Dennison, Ohio, I prepare to undertake the novel experiment of trying to get a night’s sleep in the berth of a Pullman car. It is a new and strange experience to me, but I go at it to win. There is nobody in sight, but the presence of a carload of people is felt. The long, narrow aisle of the car is deserted, but I hesitate to exercise the privilege its deserted condition would seem to warrant. I desire to undress, but I wish to hide to do it, and with this end in view I crawl under the curtains that inclose our berth. As I do so the train starts on its way again. Mrs. S. has retired some time ago, and I think is asleep. There is not much room for me, but I determine to make the best of it. Balancing myself on the edge of the berth, I make a few changes in my apparel, and come very near being precipitated into the aisle while so doing by a sudden lurch of the car as the train struck a curve. In regaining my equilibrium I stepped upon the madam, who quietly inquired what I was trying to do. “Only coming to bed, my dear,” I answered. “Is that all,” she replied, “I have been watching you for some time and thought you either had a fit or else was practicing gymnastics and using the curtain pole for a horizontal bar.” I made no reply, I didn’t blame her, and lay down thankful that she was the only witness to the performance; and ours was not the only circus on the train that night; “there were others.”

SUNDAY, MAY 9th.

Got up early, after passing rather a restless night; did not sleep very well; finished dressing just as the train stops at Richmond, Ind., 5.55 (4.55 Central) A. M. Go outside and find it a lovely morning. Several of the boys are up. Have come 220 miles since I turned in last night as the train left Dennison, Ohio.

We are now on the Indianapolis Division of the Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway, which runs from Columbus, Ohio, to Indianapolis, Ind., a distance of 188 miles. Upon inquiry I learn that from Dennison to Columbus we had P. C. C. & St. L. engine No. 59, Engineer Schultz. From Columbus to Indianapolis, P. C. C. & St. L. engine No. 102, Engineer John Cassell, Fireman W. Mason, Conductor J. E. Taylor, Brakemen Orvil Hyer and George Farmer. We arrive at Indianapolis 7.45 (6.45 Central) A. M., and leave there at 8.30 (7.30 Central) A. M. on the Main Line Division of the Vandalia Line, which extends from Indianapolis to St. Louis, a distance of 240 miles, and is controlled and operated by the Terre Haute and Indianapolis Railroad Company. T. H. & I. engine No. 34 is drawing us. It is called the World’s Fair engine, having been built at Pittsburgh and placed on exhibition at Chicago during the great exposition. It is a fine, large engine, and Engineer Fred. Wood, who runs it, says “she is a daisy.” The fireman is G. E. Hickman; conductor, A. J. Harshman; brakemen, J. G. McMahon and James Edmunds. Breakfast is announced as we leave Indianapolis, and no second invitation is required; our appetites are keen, and we thoroughly enjoy McDonald’s substantial and bountiful breakfast.

We pass through Terre Haute at 10.15 (9.15 Central) A. M., and cross the Wabash River a short distance west of the city. Ten minutes after passing through Terre Haute we cross the State line and enter Illinois. There is a delay of five minutes at Effingham by a hot box on engine 34. Just after leaving Effingham a stone was thrown by some one and broke an outside window in car “Milton,” section 4, occupied by Mr. and Mrs. L. E. Sheppard. A stop of five minutes is made at Greenville to oil and take water. Three strange men boarded the train at this point and were not noticed until after it had started, when they claimed they had made a mistake, thinking it a regular train. The train was stopped to leave them off. We partook of lunch at 1.15 (12.15 Central) P. M., being always ready to eat.

It is raining as we approach St. Louis, where we arrive at 2.30 (1.30 Central) P. M. The effects of last Summer’s terrible tornado can plainly be seen, as we cross the bridge from East St. Louis, in great piles of débris that have not as yet been cleared away. On account of the rain the prospect of seeing much of the city is very poor. A trolley ride of five miles through the city to Forrest Park was taken by a number of our party. It is too wet to take a walk in the park, and after spending a half hour in a large pavilion watching the pouring rain we return to the Union Depot, which we look through and find it to be a large and magnificent structure, exceeding in size and excelling in grandeur our own Broad Street Station at Philadelphia. It was built at an expense of $6,500,000, and covers an area of 424,200 square feet. The train shed contains thirty tracks, which are used by twenty-two different roads.

Several of us met Conductor W. Fetzer, of the Louisville and Nashville, and had a pleasant half hour with him. On account of a defective flange, a pair of new wheels were put under the dining car “Lafayette” this afternoon. Mrs. Shaw, Mrs. Dale, Mrs. Reilly, and Miss Post are on the sick list this afternoon. Called to dinner at 8.30 (7.30 Central) P. M., after which we were escorted through the magnificent station by Stationmaster J. J. Coakley and Conductor A. J. Harshman. The station is lighted with thousands of electric lights of many different hues and colors. Every light is burning to-night, the second time since the construction of the station, the first time at its dedication, September 1st, 1894, and this the second time in honor of the visit of the Pennsylvania Railroad conductors, May 9th, 1897. Our most sincere thanks are due the kind and courteous stationmaster, J. J. Coakley, for the favor and honor accorded us. May his shadow never grow less.

An itinerary souvenir of our train over the Iron Mountain Route, Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific Railways, from St. Louis to Los Angeles, via Texarkana and El Paso, was presented to each member of our party by the Iron Mountain Route management through Mr. Coakley. It is a neat little affair, much appreciated, and will be highly prized as a souvenir of our trip.

At 9.15 (8.15 Central) P. M. our train rolled out of the Grand Union Depot over the Iron Mountain Route, which extends from St. Louis to Texarkana, a distance of 490 miles. St. L. I. M. & S. engine No. 630 is drawing us, with Engineer John Hayes at the throttle, Fireman J. E. Schader, Conductor W. Hall, Brakeman J. L. Thompson, and Baggagemaster M. Madison. We have this engine and crew to Poplar Bluff, 166 miles, with the exception of the baggagemaster, who goes through to Texarkana. There is an inquiry for Brother Reagan; he has not been seen since leaving St. Louis. Our hearts are filled with consternation and alarm, for we believe he has been left, and how can we get along without “Jack; good, jolly, jovial Jack.” Maxwell’s eyes are dimmed with tears of sorrow, and McCarty is wringing his hands in grief. “Let us stop the train and return and get him,” suggested Mrs. Kalkman. “I believe he has been kidnaped,” said Brother Sloane, “or he would never have got left.” “He’s all right; I found him,” shouted Brother Waddington, as he entered the car, and there was great rejoicing when it was learned that instead of being kidnaped and left behind, Brother Reagan was peacefully sleeping in Brother Waddington’s berth in the drawing room in rear of the train.

F. B. DeGarmo, trainmaster of St. Louis, Iron Mountain

and Southern Railroad, and his assistant, T. H. Gray, accompanied us from St. Louis to Poplar Bluff, and Conductor P. Elkins, a member of DeSoto Division No. 241, got on at DeSoto and went with us to Bismarck. A large number of our party were gathered in the smoking car and we had quite an entertainment. Brother Elkins sang a number of songs, and the cook and waiters, one of them having a banjo, entertained us with songs and music hard to beat, and most thoroughly enjoyed by all. Conductors McDonald and Suter and Brother Haas sang excellent songs, and Wyman and Shaw gave recitations. Our genial train conductor, Capt. W. Hall, related some interesting stories of the days when this section of the country was terrorized by the operations and exploits of the Jesse James’ gang of train robbers. Captain Hall’s train was held up one night by this daring band of thieves at Gad’s Hill, 120 miles south of St. Louis. Hall was forced to surrender and remain quiet with the cold muzzle of a revolver pressed against his temple. An attempt was made to blow open the safe in the express car, but the robbers became frightened at their own noise and fled without securing any booty. The evening has been such a very enjoyable one that midnight approaches unawares; finding it so late we turn in, having less difficulty in doing so than we had last night.

MONDAY, MAY 10th.

Got up this morning at 6.30 (5.30 Central) and found our train in charge of Conductor H. C. Withrow and Engineer A. B. Archibald, with St. L. I. M. & S. engine No. 375, fired by T. Grifin. Captain Withrow took charge of the train at Poplar Bluff, with instructions to consume ten hours and thirty-two minutes in the run to Texarkana, a distance of 325 miles. Withrow has no brakeman, but is accompanied by a colored porter, J. J. Norris, who performs the duties of a brakeman. We are now in Arkansas, having crossed the State line last night at Moark, 185 miles south of St. Louis. We arrive at Little Rock, Ark., 8.15 (7.15 Central) A. M., and make a stop of ten minutes. We alight to look around and very much admire the “375,” and are informed that it is one of the best engines on the Iron Mountain Route and the first one built at the company’s new shops at Baring Cross, Little Rock, Ark. Went to breakfast at 9.10 (8.10 Central), hungry as a hyena.

We cannot help but notice as we journey through Arkansas the advanced condition of vegetation. Farmers in the East are only preparing their ground for corn, and here it is up; potatoes are in blossom, and peas are ready for use. Cotton is grown extensively here, and many acres are seen with the plants just peeping through the ground. We are now nearing the southern extremity of the State and approaching Texarkana, where we arrive at 12.35 (11.35 A. M. Central) P. M., having passed through the State of Arkansas 305 miles in a slightly southwesterly direction.

A stop of twenty-five minutes is given us at Texarkana, which is on the line between Arkansas and Texas, one-half of the station being in Arkansas and the other half in Texas. Brother Wyman, who acts in the double capacity of manager and clown, has a robe of crazy patchwork design, a veritable coat of many colors, in which he has arrayed himself, much to the amusement

of the crowd of natives who have assembled on our arrival. The antics of Brother Wyman and a number of others who have taken possession of a bronco and a team of donkeys occasion a great deal of merriment. As we are about to leave, Mrs. Robert Foulon was presented with a large bunch of beautiful magnolias by her friend, Mrs. Carmichael, of Texarkana. It graced the sideboard of the dining car for many days and was much admired.

Left Texarkana 1.35 (12.35 Central) P. M. on the Texas and Pacific Road, with T. & P. engine No. 126, Engineer William Gunn, Conductor Joseph Scully, Brakeman J. C. Smith, who will run us to Longview Junction, 97 miles. E. W. Campbell, trainmaster on the Eastern Division of the Texas and Pacific, will go with us to Fort Worth, the terminus of his division, 253 miles. Trainmaster Campbell is a member of Alamo Division No. 59, of Texarkana. Brother Sloane went to a barber shop in Texarkana and got left. Trainmaster Campbell left instructions for the conductor of the following train to carry him to Longview Junction, where he will overtake us. No “weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth” in this case, for we are assured of the safety of our brother.

We arrived at Longview Junction on time, 5.22 (4.22 Central) P. M., and five minutes later the following train, No. 55, arrived and with it came Brother Sloane, who was given quite a reception, the ladies presenting him with bouquets of natural grasses and flowers and the “boys” tying a cord to him and leading him into the train. He has promised not to do it again.

Our train was attached to No. 55, which is called the “Cannon Ball” Express, and at 5.35 (4.35 Central) P. M. we left Longview Junction with a train of nine cars, drawn by T. & P. engine No. 229, in charge of Engineer E. Smith, fired by S. Jones; Conductor E. R. Woodward, Porter and Brakeman Bristoe Young, who ran us to Fort Worth, a distance of 156 miles, where we arrive 11.20 (10.20 Central) P. M. Just before reaching the city we cross the Trinity River.

When we arrive at Fort Worth we learn that there is trouble ahead of us somewhere, caused by high water, which has a discouraging effect. We will lay over at this point to-night, with the expectation of learning more in the morning. There is a heavy thunder storm and it is raining hard as we turn in at 11.30 (10.30 Central) P. M.

TUESDAY, MAY 11th.

Got up at 6.30 (5.30 Central), and found it raining hard. It cleared up about eight o’clock and the party started out to see the town, it having been announced that our train would leave at 12.15 (11.15 A M. Central) P. M., nothing definite having been learned as to the trouble ahead. Our party received the best of treatment from the good people of the town, and many places of interest were visited. Officer H. C. Town, of the city police, loaded sixteen of the party in a patrol wagon and drove through the city to the City Hall, where they were kindly received and shown over the building, from there to the water works, and through the park to a point where a trolley line took them to the station. It was a very enjoyable trip. Others of our party visited other places of interest and had equally as good a time. A

number of souvenirs were procured, the most highly prized being the Texan sunbonnets, which so fascinated the ladies of our party that they purchased, it is said, all that were on sale in the city. They are very unique in style and worn very extensively by the native women of this locality. Brother Post purchased a Texan sombrero, and all agree that it is very becoming; the ladies are wearing their sunbonnets; Wyman has his circus gown and a Texan sunbonnet on; and a photographer is placing his apparatus in position to take a snap at the train and party before we leave. With the snap of the camera comes the shout of “all aboard,” and as we scamper on, the train moves slowly off, and we leave Fort Worth behind us, but carry away with us pleasant memories of the beauty of the city and of the kindness and civility of its people.

T. & P. engine No. 188, run by Engineer John Baker and fired by John Price, draws our train from Fort Worth to Big Springs, a distance of 270 miles. Conductor O. H. Bacon and Brakeman Charles Gunning go with us from Fort Worth to El Paso, a distance of 616 miles. Division Superintendent J. B. Paul accompanied us from Fort Worth to Weatherford, 31 miles. Shortly after leaving Weatherford we crossed the Brazos River and obtained a fine view of the Brazos Mountains. As we passed Eastland, 105 miles west of Fort Worth, we noticed devastation and ruin, the effect, we were told, of a recent cyclone. A few miles further we reach Baird and stop ten minutes for orders and water. A little boy about three years of age attracts the attention of some of our party, who ascertain that his name is Reynaud Strobe; his mother and grandfather live at the station; his father, who was an employe of the railroad, was killed in an accident about a year ago, almost in sight of his home. Master Reynaud is taken through the train and his little cap is filled with cake and coin and his infant mind with wonderment and awe. He cannot understand it, and his baby face expresses the puzzled condition of his mind. Should he live it is hoped he will remember the Pennsylvania Railroad Conductors’ Excursion.

We have now entered the plains of Texas and at 6.20 (5.20 Central) P. M. commence to pass through the prairie dog district. Brother Post is at the throttle; he ran No. 188 for about 50 miles and claims to have killed two jack rabbits and a prairie dog. Jack rabbits and prairie dogs are very numerous through this section, and can be seen scampering in all directions as the train thunders past. We are now nearing Big Springs, where a stop will be made to change engines. It has become dark, and we can no longer view the landscape, jack rabbits, and prairie dogs. We arrive at Big Springs 10.15 (9.15 Central) P. M., and after a delay of fifteen minutes leave with T. & P. engine No. 75, manned by Engineer D. C. Everley and Fireman Lewis Lem, whose run extends to El Paso, 347 miles. We have now entered the Great Staked Plains, and regretting that the darkness prevents us from seeing this famous country, we retire for the night at 12.20 (11.20 P. M. Central) A. M.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 12th.

Turned out this morning about the usual time, and found the train standing at San Martine Station, 174 miles east of El Paso. As we move on our way again we find we are passing through a picturesque, but barren

country of plains and mountain ranges. A run of 50 miles from San Martine brings us to Van Horn, where we make a halt of forty-five minutes and are entertained by Mrs. M. R. Beach and her son Fred. Mrs. Beach has charge of the station at Van Horn, which is also a supply station for the railroad. Fred. is a young man about twenty-five years old, and a veritable cowboy both in appearance and deportment. He entertained and amused the party with an exhibition of bronco riding, and to show his skill in the use of the lasso, chased Brother Wyman and lassoed him with the bronco at a full run. Miss Myrtle Taylor, a young lady who is visiting Mrs. Beach, also rode the bronco for the amusement of the party, but it was noticed that the animal exhibited a far more gentle spirit under the young lady’s management than it did when in charge of Fred. A cyclone cellar in the back yard was an object of much interest, and the interior was explored by several of the party. All the dwellings, of which there are but few through this region, we are told, have their cyclone pits. For many miles through this country there are no habitations except along the line of the railroad, and the people are all employes of the Texas and Pacific Railroad Company.

Leaving Van Horn, we pass close to the Sierra Blanca Mountain range, and in a short time stop at Sierra Blanca, where we lay over for half an hour and devote the time to looking around. Sierra Blanca is 92 miles southeast of El Paso and is the conjunction of the Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific Railroads, which use joint tracks from this point to El Paso. A number of us visited the adobe residence of Jacob Hand, an aged miner and prospector, who kindly allowed us to inspect his dwelling, which is a very unique and novel affair, a part of which is used for a school, and the old gentleman is the teacher. Mr. Hand generously gave our party specimens of gold, silver, and copper ore, which are highly prized as souvenirs. Brother Haas had considerable difficulty in getting in range of the old gentleman with his kodak, but succeeded by strategy in getting a “snap” before we left; also one of a group of the party with the dwelling in the background. In the midst of the group is seen a Mexican babe held in the arms of one of the ladies of the party, who is closely watched by the mother of the infant, who fears her babe will be appropriated for a souvenir.

Leaving Sierra Blanca, we pass in sight and within about 20 miles of Livermore’s Peak, 8200 feet high, said to be the highest point in Texas. We have now entered a wild, barren, broken, uninhabited region, hemmed in by dreary, ominous-looking mountain ranges. As the road traverses this broken, desolate district, there are places where almost complete circles are made in order to avoid ridges and ravines. Just after passing Malone Station, 15 miles from Sierra Blanca, we encounter a curve, and after following the circle for over a mile, find the tracks are less than 200 yards apart.

Mrs. Wyman, Mrs. Layfield, Mrs. Shaw, Brother Layfield, and myself rode on the engine from Finlay to Ft. Hancock, which afforded us a fine view of the rugged scenery through which we passed. We arrived at washout, 5 miles east of El Paso, at 5.30 (4.30 Central) P. M., and find our train can proceed no further until the track is repaired, four miles of it at the present time being under water.

Wagons were in waiting to convey the party six miles across a desert plateau to El Paso at one dollar per head; all but a few took advantage of this method of reaching the city. The remembrance of this ride will not fade from the memory in a hurry—six miles of knee-deep, red-hot desert, dust and sand, through which the horses could scarcely drag their loads. We have a good view of the flooded district and notice many buildings surrounded with water, the occupants of which were forced to flee to higher ground. All this water, we are told, is the result of melting snows away up in the mountain districts, 75 or 80 miles away. There is seldom any rain through this region, and the Rio Grande, one half the year a shallow, insignificant stream, is to-day spread over many miles of country, causing devastation, ruin, and suffering.

Arriving in the city of El Paso, we are obliged to seek for accommodations, which causes a separation of our party. The Firemen’s State Convention is in progress here, and the town is full of visitors. Ten of us found rooms at the “Grand Central,” some at “Vendome,” and a number at the “Pierson.” The latter is the most popular place, and an effort was made to get the entire party quartered there, but it could not be done. After engaging rooms at the “Grand Central” we went across the river, which is not overflowed at this point, into the old Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez, the Paso del Norte of our childhood geographies.

Under the escort of Conductors T. H. Purcell and Charles Allen, of the Southern Pacific, we were shown much that was of interest. We were introduced by Captain Purcell to Signor Miguel Ahuamada, the gentlemanly Governor of the State of Chihuahua, who entertained us very nicely for half an hour, giving us an international treat, which ceremony consists of drinks of whatever each member of the party wishes, the guests forming in a semicircle in front of the Governor, touching glasses with him as they pass. Captain Purcell at the same time made a speech in the Mexican language, with which he is thoroughly conversant, having at one time filled the position of Government Interpreter at this point. Of course none of us understood a thing that he said, but we felt sure it was all right from the pleased expression on his Honor’s, face, who replied in a pleasant manner in his native tongue.

Purcell told us afterward that he had informed the Governor that we were a party of Americans who had called to do him honor; that we drank to his health and a long and happy life; that we had the highest regard for Mexican institutions, believing them to be the best in the world; that their men were the noblest and their women the most beautiful we had ever met; that we wore upon our bosoms the colors of the Mexican flag, which we considered, next to the Stars and Stripes, the most beautiful banner in the world, and we hoped it would ever wave in triumph and in peace over an empire that would continue to increase in prosperity and wealth. No wonder the old man smiled; we would have smiled too had we understood what was being said. The red, white and green of our tourist badges had caught his eye and he was pleased. Captain Purcell’s speech flatters him and he wants to do something to show his appreciation.

Our visit does him great honor, and he desires to reciprocate; had he time to arrange for a bull fight he could give us much amusement, but his best bull was killed a short time ago and his matadors are out of training; but he has a prisoner under the sentence of death, and if we will return on the morrow he will execute him for our pleasure and entertainment. Captain Purcell made us acquainted with this proposition, which we declined with thanks. We had no desire to see the poor fellow shot, which is their method of administering capital punishment. Bidding his Honor adieu, we are next escorted through several of the principal gambling resorts and are much interested in all we see. It is growing late, and when we return to El Paso and reach our rooms it is midnight.

THURSDAY, MAY 13th.

Arose about 6.30 and found the morning clear and warm. There are many wonderful, strange, and unusual things in, around, and about El Paso, but one of the most puzzling and perplexing things is its time. Traveling westward you arrive on Central time and depart on Pacific, a difference of two hours, while in the city they use local time, which is a split between the two. Over the river in Juarez they use Mexican time. Visited a barber shop for a shave, then a restaurant for breakfast and got another shave; I was taxed one dollar and twenty cents for breakfast for two. We didn’t return for dinner.

Those of our party who did not visit Juarez last evening attended the State Firemen’s ball and banquet under the escort of Colonel Whitmore, Acting Mayor of El Paso, and Chief J. J. Connors, of the city fire department, and they all speak in the highest terms of the royal treatment they received and the grand time they had. The city of El Paso contains about 12,000 inhabitants, but the population is almost double that number this week, which gives the town a very lively appearance. We learn that our train cannot be gotten over the washout to-day, and arrangements are being made to remain in the city to-night. Engaged a pleasant room for fifty cents per day at the “Wellington,” corner of Staunton and Texas Streets, kept by Mrs. Whitmore; quite a number of our party are stopping here.

Brother Wyman hired a horse to-day and rode in the parade. It is very hot in the sun. Went over in front of the Court House this afternoon to see the firemen race. There was quite an exciting time. Brother Haas was there with his kodak and had a narrow escape from being run over in trying to get a “snap” at a team as the horses galloped past. Had a pleasant chat in the evening with Mr. Pettus, an old resident of the place, who has a furnishing store next to the “Wellington.” He is an entertaining man and gave some interesting information relative to the early history and habits of the country and people. I turned in about eleven o’clock, but can’t speak for them all, for this is an interesting city.

FRIDAY, MAY 14th.

Turn out this morning about 7.30 and find the weather clear and warm. We go to a nearby restaurant for breakfast; mutton chops are one of the items on the bill of fare, and we are pleased, for we are partial to chops—nice, juicy, tender mutton chops; but these chops do not quite come up to our idea of what mutton chops should be—not so juicy nor so tender as we would like; but being hungry we quietly and uncomplainingly devour what is set before us. “Where do you people in El Paso get your mutton?” I inquired of the waiter as we arose from the table (for I had no recollection of seeing a sheep since we entered the State of Texas). “Goats,” was the short but suggestive answer. A little private inquiry elicited the information that it is a fact that the greater part of the “mutton” consumed in El Paso is a product of the goatherd. The supply is apparently inexhaustible, for thousands of those ruminating, odoriferous quadrupeds can be seen roaming the adjacent plains and plateaus in great herds, attended by boys and dogs.

Accompanied Manager Wyman to Superintendent Martin’s office, where we learn “that there is no prospect of getting our train across the washout this week. The water has fallen but very little, and while we are working day and night, endeavoring to close the break, our progress is necessarily slow on account of the action of the high water, and the work cannot be completed sufficiently to get our train across until the water recedes. And no one knows,” continued Mr. Martin, “when this will be, for the water is just as likely to rise as to fall. The weather has been very hot these last few days and has melted the snow in the mountains very rapidly, which has caused the high water here. When the snow is gone the water will fall, so you see it depends upon the supply of snow, of which we know nothing about. If you wish to continue on your journey I will send you to Los Angeles by regular train, and when we succeed in getting your train across will send it on after you.”

Brother Wyman rather favors this proposition, as he desires to reach Los Angeles before the Grand Division adjourns, but the majority of our party will not agree to it, preferring to remain with the train and take their chance with it; so the idea of going ahead by regular train is abandoned. A party of us procured a four-horse team and went over to the train to-day, some to remain and others to return. Would have remained had Mrs. S. been along, for it is a dreadful hot trip of two and one-half hours across that burning sand.

We found our train sidetracked at Alfalfa, one mile east of the washout, and had one mile to walk after leaving the wagon. Alfalfa is not a place—it is only a name. There is a sidetrack here and a post with a board on it, and on the board is painted in large black letters the word Alfalfa. That is all. It is a flagstop for accommodation trains, but there is no station, not even a shed, a platform, nor a plank. The nearest civilized communities are El Paso, 7 miles away to the west, and Fort Bliss, the same distance to the north. On the east end of the same sidetrack where our train lies are a number of cabooses of the Texas and Pacific construction train, occupied by Mexican families whose husbands and fathers are working on the repairs at the washout. They are a squalid, uninviting-looking set, but seem happy and contented with their lot.

Here and there in the edge of a sandbank can be seen a “dugout,” or, sheltered in a mesquite thicket, a “shack” occupied by the same nationality, who with their goats and burros are very pictures of meek and lowly contentment. These are the surroundings in the midst of which we are sidetracked. We find our people (those who are with the train) with smiles upon their faces as they tell us they are “all right” and are having a good and pleasant time. There must surely be an element or ingredient in this desert air and atmosphere that breeds contentment and repose.

Several of the boys went over to the train and back on broncos to-day, and experienced a hot but exhilarating ride. The party consisted of Brothers Waddington, Taylor, Matthews, Moore, Mattson, Leary, and Elder, who all claim that the ride, although a very hot one, was rare sport. The novel experience of a ride of 14 miles on a fiery, wiry Texan horse is a feature of their visit to El Paso that will not be forgotten.

Brother Wyman remained at Alfalfa to watch the progress of repairs at the washout, and I returned in the wagon to El Paso. Dining-car Conductor McDonald accompanied us; he was looking for a wagon-load of supplies for his car from El Paso that had not arrived. When about half way across the plateau we met the team. Mr. McDonald interviewed the driver to ascertain if his wagon was loaded with what had been ordered and found everything satisfactory.

As we leave behind us the hot, suffocating desert trail we pass close to the base of Mt. Franklin, in the shadow of which El Paso lies, and crossing the railroad tracks of the Fort Bliss Branch we feel a deep sense of relief as we strike the hard, smooth street that leads us into the city’s welcome shade and rest.

Learning on our arrival back that the El Paso Telegraph, a morning paper, contained an account of our trip and detention, we procured several copies and sent them East to friends.

The majority of our party went over to the train this afternoon; those remaining in town witnessed this evening a grand pyrotechnical exhibition under the auspices and management of the McGinty Club, a powerful social and political organization of El Paso. After the parade, during which there was a fine display of fireworks, the storming of Fort McGinty took place, which was the leading feature of the occasion. The fort, built of some light material, was erected on a neighboring hill, Roman candles and sky rockets were used as weapons by both the storming party and the defenders, which caused the mock battle to assume a very realistic appearance.

After the exhibition of fireworks a party of us visited the famous Astor House, kept by Col. Si Ryan. Si is one of the noted characters of El Paso. Years ago he was sheriff of three counties in Southern California, Mono, Inyo, and San Bernardino, and in dealing with the outlaws and renegades that infested the country at that time he achieved a reputation for nerve and courage that has never been surpassed, and the numerous scars upon his person, made by knife and bullet, bear silent testimony that he never shirked his duty in the face of danger or turned his back upon a foe. We find the colonel a prince of good fellows, and after enjoying his company and partaking of his hospitality, we repaired to the headquarters of the McGinty Club, and with a number of visiting firemen were royally entertained.

Brother McCarty was with us, and for some unexplained reason he received special attention; but Charlie is a good fellow and deserves it, and being a bachelor it is all right. Several of us withdrew from the meeting before it adjourned, as it was drawing near midnight. We had spent a long and busy day and were tired. Soon reached my room at “The Wellington,” and retiring, endeavored to recall the various events of the day, but rushing water, desert dust, galloping broncos, McGinties, sky rockets, and smoke got mixed up in inextricable confusion as I lost consciousness in sleep.

SATURDAY, MAY 15th.

Turned out this morning about seven o’clock and found the weather clear, with every indication pointing to another hot day. Not feeling very well, I went out in search of “medicine”; met several of the boys out on the same errand; our symptoms are similar, and we conclude that the powder smoke inhaled during the McGinty demonstration is responsible for our indisposition.

A visit to Superintendent Martin’s office results in the information that the washout situation remains unchanged. Mr. Martin can give us no encouragement. Brother Layfield and myself called on Mr. Joseph Sweeney during the morning and spent a pleasant hour with him. Learning that a party was being made up to return to the train, Mrs. Wyman, Mrs. Shaw, and myself join them. The Colonel and Mrs. Layfield desire to go, but the wagon is already crowded. The sun is intensely hot, and at 9.30 A. M. we leave El Paso for one more trip across that never-to-be-forgotten scorching desert plateau. The party consists of nine, including the driver, in a large transfer coach drawn by two horses. To relieve the overburdened animals, the men walk part of the way and keep a sharp lookout for rattlesnakes, for the driver had hinted that we might encounter some, as they are known to be quite numerous in this locality. Two large snakes of an unknown species were seen; one glided into a hole in the side of the bank of a deep arroyo, and we did not go to look for him; the other was discovered lying quietly behind a large sage bush by one of the “boys,” who silently imparted the information to the rest.

We gathered around, and looking where he pointed, saw a portion of his snakeship’s form through a small opening in the bush. “Think it would be safe to shoot at him?” whispered the discoverer of the snake, as he clutched his ever-ready revolver in his grasp. “Yes; blaze away,” answered a chorus of low voices. Bang! went the pistol, and we saw the snake slightly move, but it did not run away. “I hit him,” exclaimed our brother with the pistol; and we all moved cautiously around the bush to investigate. There he was, sure enough, a greenish-striped fellow about six feet long, but he had no head, and from his appearance it had been three or four days since he had lost it. Our marksman’s ball had struck the ground just underneath the body and turned it partly over, which movement had deceived us. I will say no more about it lest you guess who did the shooting; not that I think he would care, for mistakes are being made every day by some of us that are worse than shooting dead snakes.

Arriving at our train about noon, after an absence

of three days, brings with it a feeling of relief, similar to getting home again. The majority of the party had preceded us, a number having come over yesterday. All express themselves as being glad to get back to the train, notwithstanding its uninviting surroundings and isolated condition. What we all appreciate very much and what goes far toward breaking the monotony of the situation is the fact that nearly all the Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific trains stop here, and are very kind in furnishing us with water and ice when we need it.

Yesterday afternoon a Southern Pacific train stopped here that had been held up by train robbers a few miles east of Sierra Blanca. The safe in the express car was blown open with dynamite and robbed of a large amount of money. The train was held for one and a half hours while the work was being done. The passengers on the train were not molested. Some of our party entered the car and examined the wrecked safe, which was blown almost into fragments. A portion of the car roof was torn off by the force of the explosion and pieces of the safe were found in the sides and ends of the car. A parrot and a rooster in the car lost nearly all their feathers, but otherwise were apparently uninjured. Several of our party obtained parrot and rooster feathers and pieces of the safe as souvenirs. The Texan Rangers, we are told, are hot on the trail of the outlaws.

Manager Wyman has just returned from the washout and brings no encouragement. “The break cannot be repaired until the water falls two feet,” says Brother Wyman, “and it shows no disposition to fall.” “Give me two hundred men and the material to bridge those arroyos and lay the track and I will have a railroad from here into El Paso across that desert plateau inside the time they have been waiting for this water to fall,” exclaimed Brother Sloane, spiritedly. “They won’t leave you do it, Charlie,” said Brother Terry, sympathetically. The arrival of six more of our people from El Paso and the announcement of dinner at the same time prevented further conversation in this direction.

We were favored with a light shower in the afternoon, which evidently stirred up the mosquitoes, for they are very numerous and aggressive this evening. This is a beautiful night. It is the full of the moon, and the clear, marvelous light it sheds is the most wonderful moonlight we have ever seen; so clear, so bright, and yet so soft; no one can describe it, for it is simply indescribable. Objects can be discerned at a remarkable distance, and Mt. Franklin, six miles away, looms up to the vision dark, grim, and majestic.

As our party one by one retire to their berths there is not a mind among them all but what is impressed with the beauty and grandeur of the night, the silence and serenity of which is broken only by the occasional barking of a watchful Mexican dog or the quarrelsome snarling of thieving coyotes.

SUNDAY, MAY 16th.

To-day is clear and warm, with a delightful breeze stirring. We avoid the hot glare of the sun by remaining as much as possible on the shady side of the train. There are remarkable conditions of climate here. In the sun the heat is distressing, almost unbearable; in the shade it is more than comfortable, almost luxurious, producing a feeling of exuberant pleasure and vitality that is difficult to express or understand. There was a light thunder shower during the night, which no doubt had a tendency to further clarify and rarify this wonderful atmosphere. We are making the best of the situation; have plenty to eat and drink, but there is a scarcity of water for washing purposes, although large irrigating ditches are close to hand, but the waters are too muddy for use.

About noon a Southern Pacific work train came along and supplied our cars with water, which is hauled in large wooden tanks holding about 4000 gallons each. It is brought from Lasca, about 70 miles east of Alfalfa. S. P. engine No. 904 is drawing the train which is supplying us with water, Engineer John Condon, Conductor G. M. Seamonds, Brakemen J. M. Bates and Charles McDonald, who are very kind and obliging, carefully supplying each car with all the water needed. Manager Wyman has just received a telegram from Superintendent Martin saying that the break situation is not improving, and suggests that our committee make arrangements to go some other way.

Brakeman Charles Gunning, who has been with us since we left Ft. Worth, made suggestions to our committee which were immediately taken up, viz., that we return to Sierra Blanca and from there take the Southern Pacific to Spofford Junction, thence over Eagle Pass and the Mexican International to Torreon, then up over the Mexican Central to El Paso, making a triangle trip of about 1450 miles. The committee immediately set out to communicate with the railroad officials, and we are all waiting anxiously to know the result of the conference.

In the meantime work at the washout must have progressed with remarkable rapidity, for some one just from there brings the highly encouraging report that the break in the track is trestled over and the prospect of getting us away soon is good. This report comes less than three hours after Manager Wyman had received a message from Superintendent Martin saying “he could give us no hope; that we had better go some other way.” Is it any wonder that we are doubtful of the good news and regard it as a fake? But it is true, nevertheless, for Brothers Wyman and Maxwell have just returned and verify the report, adding “that if the water does not rise again we will go out of here to-morrow.”

Brothers Wyman, Maxwell, Sheppard, Gilliland, and myself walked down to the washout this evening and came back in the caboose of the work train. It is about three miles from where our train lies to the break in the track that has caused so much labor and anxiety. The greater part of this work is performed by Mexicans, and they have been working day and night, much of the time up to the waist in water, in order to get the break repaired. More of our party came over from El Paso this evening; they are all over now but two or three. Brothers Haas and Smith and Mrs. Smith went over to El Paso to-day to go by regular train to Los Angeles.

When Brother John Reilly came over to the train he brought with him a very much corroded revolver, presented as a souvenir to the Pennsylvania Railroad conductors’ excursion party by Col. Si Ryan. The revolver belonged to George Daley, mining engineer, of Lake

Valley, New Mexico, who was killed by Indians September 9th, 1878. The revolver was found on the alkali plains where Engineer Daley met his death. The alkali had eaten off all the woodwork and corroded with rust the iron. It is an interesting relic and highly valued as a souvenir.

The “boys” have been patrolling the train at night since we have been sidetracked here. I have volunteered to go on second watch to-night, and turned in at eleven o’clock, expecting to be called at 2 A. M. for patrol duty.

MONDAY, MAY 17th.

Awakened at 2.30 this morning by Brother George Dale, and with Brother Sam Horner go on duty to watch and to wait for morning to come. There is nothing else for us to do; all is quiet outside and around the train as we promenade back and forth on the alert for anything of a suspicious nature. The morning is clear and bright and the air cool and refreshing. Brother Kilgore, who sleeps near the roof in the car “Milton,” is doing some vigorous snoring, and Brother Houston, in the rear of the “Orchis,” is talking earnestly in his sleep. We catch an occasional glimpse of a skulking dog or coyote seeking for food amongst the scraps thrown from the train, but no marauder appears to molest us. A heavy 44-caliber six-shooter, presented to the writer just before starting on the trip by Lyttleton Johnson, Esq., of Chadd’s Ford, Pa., has been at the service of our watchmen, and we feel that we are well armed. When not in possession of the watchmen, Baggagemaster George Anderson sleeps with it under his pillow.

The coming of day and the stir of the occupants of the cars relieve us from duty, and we strike out through the mesquite thicket to reconnoitre and obtain a view of our surroundings. Less than 200 yards from the train we come to a deep, wide, irrigating canal, through which the muddy water is rushing in a torrent. We can go no further in this direction and conclude to follow the stream in quest of a bridge. We go but a short distance when the thicket becomes impenetrable, and we retreat, and cutting a cane from the thicket as a memento of our little walk, we return to the train, glad to find that breakfast is ready and to learn that an effort will be made to get us over the break to-day.

Brother Wyman has been closely watching the progress of the repairs, and under the supervision of Master Mechanic H. Small, the work these last two days has made very rapid advancement. The sun is scorching hot and the forenoon is spent by the party sitting in groups in the shadow of the train discussing the various features of the situation, and many are the surmises as to what will be the result of an attempt to cross that sea of water over the repaired and trestled tracks with a train of cars of such weight as ours. We feel that the risk is great, but realize the effort to get us over is to be made, when about 1 P. M. S. P. engine No. 719, in charge of Engineer M. Love, is run in against our train and we are pushed, with six construction cars ahead of us, out on the main track and up toward the flooded district. Conductor J. H. Ludwig has charge of the train, and in him Mrs. Ed. Foster recognizes a cousin whom she had not seen for many years. The recognition is mutual and the meeting a happy one. The knowledge that the conductor is related to and personally known by a member of our party creates a feeling of confidence that almost assures our safe deliverance.

We have now reached high water and our train is being slowly pushed farther and farther into a gurgling, surging, muddy flood until the dreaded break is reached, with miles of water all around us. The repaired track, propped and trestled, settles and sinks out of sight when it receives the weight of the cars, that toss and roll and creak in a manner which, if it does not frighten us, fills us with much concern, for we are afraid we will lose our train in the flood. A sudden stop, caused by the bursting of an air-brake hose on the engine, fills us with alarm. “We are lost,” murmured Mrs. Maxwell, and her face wore a frightened look. “Not yet,” replied Brother Schuler, and his assurance gave us comfort; but the few minutes delay caused by the accident was almost fatal, for our heavy dining car had settled until its wheels were covered with water and the repairsmen thought a rail had broken beneath its weight. In water almost up to their necks the men made an examination of the track under the car and found it intact.

The signal was given to move ahead, and as slowly the sunken car comes into position, hearts become lighter and faces grow brighter; the dreadful suspense is over, and we give more attention to our surroundings. We see many fine residences surrounded by water, and large fields of grain inundated and ruined. We are two hours coming through the four miles of high water. Slowly and carefully we are safely brought through, and all concerned are entitled to the highest praise for the able and judicious manner in which the train was handled.

Arriving at the Southern Pacific station in El Paso about three o’clock, and finding we have an hour before leaving, many avail themselves of the opportunity of taking a parting look at this interesting city and bidding adieu to the many kind friends who have done so much toward making our forced stay a pleasant and happy one. Four of our party, under the escort of Brother Sloane, have taken a trip over to Juarez, and much uneasiness and concern is felt for them, as the time is up for our train to go and they have not returned. The engine whistle is sounded long and loud to call them in, but they do not come. “They have gone over there to make some purchases,” asserts Brother Sheppard, “and I fear have been arrested for trying to evade the customs laws.” “No fear of that,” replies Captain Purcell, who has charge of our train, “you may rest assured that no member of your party will be molested by the customs officers. The courtesy and freedom of the cities of El Paso and Juarez have been extended to you, and the badge you wear is a guarantee of your safety.” “Yes,” adds Col. Si Ryan, who is on hand to see us off, “Diaz wouldn’t allow any of you Pennsylvanians pinched if you should carry off the whole State of Chihuahua, for his Honor thinks Pennsylvania the greatest and best State of the Union, with the exception, of course, of Texas,” and there is a proud, faraway look in the Colonel’s eye as he contemplates the enormous area and the illimitable possibilities of the great Lone Star State. Notwithstanding the assurance of Captain Purcell and Colonel Ryan, Brother Post is very much concerned, for Miss Ella is with the absent party, and he has gone to look for them. Brothers Moore and Dougherty have

taken advantage of the delay and are off looking for souvenirs. Those who are waiting for the return of the absent ones are growing very impatient, and when at last they are seen coming, impatience and uneasiness give way to feelings of relief and gladness, and Brother Sloane is forgiven once more on the plea “that it was a misunderstanding of the time that caused the trouble,” and gave it as his opinion that “El Paso time is one of the most confusing problems that ever worried a tourist.”

The deep-toned engine bell peals out the warning that the train is about to start; “All aboard” is shouted, the last hand shake is given, and at 5.45 (2.45 Pacific) P. M., just five days, six hours, and forty-five minutes late, our train rolled out of the Southern Pacific Station and across the Rio Grande, leaving behind the pretty and interesting city of El Paso and our many new-found friends, whose liberality and kindness will ever remain a pleasant and happy memory with us. Our train is drawn by S. P. engine No. 1395, in charge of Engineer Joseph Bird and fired by J. V. Paul, who accompany us to Tucson, 312 miles. Conductor T. H. Purcell and Brakeman E. G. Shaub go with us to Yuma, 563 miles.

We are in New Mexico, having entered it when we crossed the Rio Grande River. The country is wild and barren and the railroad very crooked. Engineer Bird, in his eagerness to make up the lost time, is running at a speed which Manager Wyman thinks is not consistent with safety. The cars rock and roll in an alarming manner, and several dishes have been broken in the dining car, which calls forth a protest from our friend McDonald of that most cherished department. Brother Wyman immediately requests Conductor Purcell to instruct the engineer to reduce speed, which is done, much to the relief and comfort of all on board. Brother Joseph Flory, of St. Louis Division No. 3, State Railroad and Warehouse Commissioner, of Jefferson City, Mo., and Harry Steere, Esq., traveling passenger agent of the Southern Pacific Railroad, are our guests from El Paso to Los Angeles, and a much appreciated acquisition to our party.

They have a fund of useful and interesting information on hand pertaining to the country through which we are passing, which they impart to us in a pleasant and entertaining manner. “What place is this, Mr. Steere?” we inquire as a pretty little town bursts upon our vision. “This is Deeming,” replies Mr. Steere, “and it is quite an important place. We are now 88 miles from El Paso, and this is the first town we have seen. A few years ago it was as barren and uninhabitable here as any of the desolate country through which we have passed, but good water was discovered a few feet below the surface of the ground, and now the place is noted for its many wells of fine water, which is shipped for hundreds of miles and is also used for irrigating purposes, for nothing will grow throughout this region unless it is artificially watered. The thrifty young shade trees, the shrubbery and patches of verdant vegetation you noticed as we passed through Deeming is convincing evidence that all this region needs, to make it one of the most fertile and productive countries in the world, is plenty of water.”

For 60 miles further we pass through this region of desert plateaus known as the plains of Deeming. The dust is almost suffocating and sifts through every crack and crevice, the double, almost air-tight, windows of the Pullmans being insufficiently close to keep it out. At the little station of Lordsburg, 60 miles from Deeming, Engineer Bird stops to water his iron horse. “This supply of water,” remarked Mr. Steere, “is brought here in pipes from a large spring or lake in yonder mountain, five miles away.”

Looking in the direction indicated, we can see through the gathering dusk of evening the dark outlines of a mountain in the distance. “ ’Tis a pity,” continued Mr. Steere, “that you were not enabled to pass through this section during daylight, for there are some things I should like you to see. We are drawing near the Arizona line, and the scenery is becoming more broken and varied. Those mountains which you can dimly discern on your right are composed of cliffs and crags of reddish rock of a peculiar and interesting formation. On the left the great San Simon Valley stretches away to the south for a distance of 75 or 80 miles, and is the grazing ground for many thousands of cattle. One company alone, the San Simon Cattle Company, it is said, has a herd of nearly 100,000 head.” “What do they feed on, Mr. Steere?” I asked, for visions of the dust-environed plains of Deeming were still floating in my mind. “This great valley,” answered Mr. Steere, “through the northern boundary of which we are now passing, is not nearly so dry as the more elevated country through which we have passed. There are occasionally short periods of wet weather which produces pasture very rapidly, the pasture consisting chiefly of what is known through here as gama grass, which grows very fast and luxuriant and possesses great feeding qualities. The strangest but most valuable feature of this peculiar vegetation is that it retains all its sweetness and nutrition after it is dead and brown, and stock feed upon it with as much avidity in a dry and sapless condition as they do when they find it in the green and juicy stage of life and growth.

“Away to the south, bounding this immense valley, is a wild and rocky range of the Chiricahua Mountains, said to be from time immemorial the rendezvous of renegades and desperadoes, one of the most noted being an outlaw Apache Indian called the ‘Arizona Kid,’ whose depredations and crimes were a terror to all the surrounding country. And were it only light,” continued Mr. Steere, “I would show you one of the most notable landmarks on the Southern Pacific Road. Away over to the south there, clearly outlined against the sky, is a mountain formation that plainly resembles the up-turned profile of a human face. It is called ‘Cochise’s Head,’ bearing a strong likeness, it is said, to Cochise, the most noted chieftain of the Apache tribe.”

We have now reached what is known as “Territorial Line,” about midway between the little stations of Stein’s Pass and San Simon. Conductor Purcell kindly stops the train at this point, giving those who wish the opportunity and privilege of gathering some mementoes of the occasion and locality. I look at my watch; it is 11.20 P. M. “Philadelphia” time, 8.20 P. M. “Territorial Line” time; it is pretty dark for the business on hand, but the post that marks the dividing line is easily found, and in a very short time is so badly cut and splintered by the relic hunters that it looks as though it had been struck by lightning. Several standing astride the designated and imaginary dividing line picked pebbles from New Mexico and Arizona at the same time. In five minutes we are on our way again, and in a short time thereafter the snores of the tourists heard above the rumble of the train proclaim that “the weary are at rest.”

TUESDAY, MAY 18th.

Got up this morning about the usual time and found that we had passed Tucson in the early part of the morning and had changed engines at that point. We have now S. P. engine No. 9030, Engineer J. W. Bunce and Fireman J. Weir, who run us to Yuma, a distance of 251 miles. It cannot always be day, nor we cannot always be awake, so when night comes and we sleep we miss much that is novel and interesting. “You have missed much since entering Arizona that is well worth seeing,” I hear Mr. Steere remark to several of the party with whom he is conversing as I enter the smoker. “During the night we have passed through the most wonderful cactus country in the world, many of the plants rising to the height of thirty and forty feet; but you will see similar plants should you pass through the Antelope Valley, Cal., in daytime after leaving Los Angeles. You also missed seeing the town of Benson, which is one of the important places on this line, where we connect with the New Mexico and Arizona and the Arizona and Southwestern Railroads; and it is really too bad that you did not get at least a passing look at Tucson, for there is only one Tucson in the world. It is one of the oldest and queerest places in the United States, and a place with a history. The population is estimated to be about 8000, and nearly all of the residences are of adobe construction. Claims are made that it was first settled by the Spanish in 1560.” A call to breakfast interrupted Mr. Steere’s interesting talk as we all make a break for the dining car.

All the morning we have been descending the Gila River Valley, and the picturesque, complex scenery of mountain, plain, and valley has been much enjoyed by all. As we approach Yuma, situated on the Colorado River, in the extreme southwestern corner of Arizona, we can scarcely realize that in the 251 miles we have come since leaving Tucson we have dropped from an altitude of 2390 feet to that of 140 feet, the elevation of Yuma, but such is the case, according to the figures given on the time table of the Southern Pacific Railroad which I hold in my hand, and which Captain Purcell and Mr. Steere both declare is correct beyond a shadow of doubt, adding “that the Southern Pacific Railroad Company was never known to publish a falsehood or make a mistake.”

We arrive at Yuma 12.30 P. M. Eastern (9.30 A. M. Pacific), and make a stop of fifteen minutes. The station is a low-built, commodious building, surrounded on three sides by extensive grounds in which flowers are blooming in profusion. A number of bouquets were gathered by the ladies. Several native Indians are about the station having for sale trinkets and toys of their own manufacture. It is a strange and novel sight to behold these old remnants of an almost extinct race and tribe dressed in the scant and grotesque garb of their nativity, with their faces and the exposed

parts of their limbs and bodies painted and tattooed with bright and varied colors, increasing tenfold their natural ugliness, which showing to its best advantage, unassisted by art, is far above par. Yuma Bill, the biggest, oldest, and ugliest of the lot, seems to claim the most attention, and as I see him coming down the station platform and entering the waiting-room door, bareheaded and barefooted, with a bright-striped blanket about him, I think of Mark Twain’s story of his visit to the camp of Sitting Bull. “The old chief saw me coming,” says Mark, “and he came to meet me. I had pictured him in my mind as an old warrior covered with glory; I found him clothed with the nobility of his race, assisted by an old horse blanket, one corner of which hid his approach and the other corner covered his retreat.” Similar characters are Yuma Bill and his pals, and if ever “Mark” encounters them he will be strongly reminded of his notable interview with the famous Sitting Bull.

We all buy trinkets of Bill, for we never expect to see him again and we don’t want to forget him. We are told that he is a good old Indian, but was not always so. Years ago, when there were battles to be won, Bill made a record as a fighter. He will fight no more; there are only a few of him left; and Uncle Sam has given him and his comrades a refuge in a little reservation across the river where they hope to live and die in quietness and peace.

A short distance back of the station can be seen the territorial prison or penitentiary, on a bluff overlooking the Colorado River. We thought it was a fort until told that it was a prison. Our train is about to start, and we find a large car or tank of water attached on the front end next the engine and a freight caboose on the rear. We find that a freight crew has charge of us, that the tank of water will be needed to supply the engine, as there is a run of 120 miles through a country devoid of water, and that the crew will need the caboose when they leave us, for they expect to take back from Indio a train of freight. We have S. P. engine No. 1609, with Engineer W. Hayes at the throttle, fired by George McIntyre, Conductor H. J. Williams, Brakemen H. J. Schulte and R. M. Armour. As our train moves slowly off across the bridge that spans the Colorado we take a last look at Yuma and its picturesque surroundings, and in two minutes we are in California and crossing the Colorado Desert.

We are disappointed. We thought California a land of beauty, fertility, and flowers—a desert waste is all we see, bald mountains and barren plains on every side. Our course is upward for about 25 miles, until an elevation of 400 feet is reached, and then we begin to descend, and when we pass the little station of Flowing Well, 60 miles west of Yuma, we are only five feet above the level of the sea. Ten miles farther we stop at Volcano Springs and are 225 feet below the sea level. After leaving Flowing Well our attention was called by Mr. Steere to what was apparently a large lake of clear, sparkling water ahead, and to the left of our train, about half a mile away. We were running toward it but got no closer to it. It remained there, the same distance from us, a bright, sparkling, rippling body of water; not one on the train but what would have said, “It is water.” Mr. Steere says, “No; it is not water;

it is a delusion, a mirage caused by the glare of the sun on the shining salt crust of this alkali desert. There is not much doubt,” continued Mr. Steere, “but what ages upon ages ago all this immense basin was the bottom of a great sea. You can see upon the sides of these barren bluffs and upon those walls of rock the mark of the water line that for thousands of years perhaps have withstood the ravages and test of time. This little station is called Volcano Springs because of the number of springs in this locality that are apparently of volcanic origin. They are not in operation at the present time, but certain seasons of the year they are very active and spout up mud and water to a height of from 10 to 25 feet.”

A thermometer hanging in the doorway of the station, in the shade, registers 101 degrees, and it is not unusual, we are told, for it to reach 125. It is actually too hot in the sun to stand still; it almost takes one’s breath away. We feel relieved when our train starts and we are in motion once more. We create a breeze, a sea breeze, as it were, wafted to us o’er the mummified saliniferous remains of an ancient sea 3000 years a corpse. But the “mirage” still is there, a wonderful delusion, a monstrous deception, a gigantic “Will o’ the wisp,” whose alluring promises have led hundreds of men and animals a fruitless chase that ended in horrid death.

Sixty-five miles ahead of us we can plainly see San Jacinto Mountain, towering 11,500 feet in the air, with its summit covered with ice and snow that glistens in the noonday sun. Twenty-four miles from Volcano Springs we pass Salton, noted for its great salt industry. This is the lowest point on the line of the Southern Pacific Railroad, being 263 feet below sea level. About three miles to the left of the railroad we see the great white salt marsh or lake, containing such a vast deposit of this useful substance that the supply is thought to be inexhaustible. Steam plows are used for gathering the salt, and the works erected here have a capacity of nearly 1000 tons per day.

Twenty-five miles from Salton we reach Indio, where a short stop is made to change engines. Indio is a veritable oasis in the desert. After miles and miles of desert dust and glaring sand, it is very refreshing to see again trees and grass and flowers. We are still 20 feet below the level of the sea, but good water has been found here, and plenty of it applied to the soil has worked wonders. Whatever is planted grows with rapidity and in profusion, and with an abundance of water Indio can look forward to fast increasing beauty and prosperity. It has been discovered that the climate here is very beneficial to consumptives, and Indio has already become noted as a resort for those afflicted with pulmonary trouble, and it is claimed some very remarkable cures have been effected.

We leave Indio at 4.15 P. M. Eastern (1.15 P. M. Pacific), with S. P. engine No. 1397. Engineer Ward Heins, Fireman J. A. Shanehan; Conductor Williams and his brakemen will continue on to Los Angeles with us, 130 miles further.

Soon after leaving Indio we ascend a grade of 120 feet to the mile and pass along the base of San Jacinto Mountain, with its summit frowning down upon us from a height of 11,500 feet. The snow can now be plainly seen upon its highest peaks, and rivulets and cataracts can be seen in places dashing and leaping down its seamed and rugged sides.

At Rimlon we get Engineer Eli Steavens and Fireman M. Anderson with engine No. 1963 to assist us up a steep grade to Beaumont, a distance of 35 miles.

At Palm Springs a short stop was made to take aboard some guests who came to meet us from Los Angeles. They were Mr. G. L. Mead, Mr. H. Kearney, and Mr. J. E. White. Mr. Mead is a merchant of Los Angeles who heard of our coming and came to meet us to bid us welcome to the “Paradise of America,” and to emphasize his expressions of good feelings, presented the tourists with a case of very fine California wine. Mr. Mead could have done nothing more in accord with the feelings of the party. No wine ever tasted better, no wine ever did more good; it is a medicine our systems crave after 150 miles of the scorching, glaring, waterless Colorado Desert; a right thing in the right place; it is appreciated far more than Mr. Mead will ever know. Mr. Kearney is a promoter of stage lines and is about to establish a route between Palm Springs and Virginia Dale, a distance of 71 miles. He is an interesting gentleman to converse with, being perfectly familiar with all the surrounding country. Mr. White is a transfer agent doing business in Los Angeles, and is on hand to render aid to any of the party who may need his services.

We arrive at Beaumont and have reached the summit of the grade. In the 50 miles we have come since leaving Indio, we have made an ascent of 5280 feet. Our helper engine No. 1397 has left us; and we commence our descent of the western slope of the San Bernardino Range. Mr. J. Jacobs, a civil engineer in the employ of the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, was invited to get aboard at Beaumont and accompany us to Los Angeles. We find him a very agreeable guest, giving us a great deal of entertaining information.

We have passed from desert wastes into a rich agricultural district; farmers are engaged in harvesting hundreds of acres of barley, which in this region is cut while in a green state and cured for hay. We pass many large fruit orchards of different varieties, while away in the distance on every hand the mountains rear their snow-clad peaks to the clouds. It is a grand and wonderful transformation from the scenes through which we have lately passed, and needs to be seen to be appreciated.

“This section of country through which we are now passing,” observed Mr. Jacobs, “is the famous Redlands district, a country that has shown far greater development and been subject to more rapid improvements in the same number of years than any other known section of its size in the world. Ten years ago it was almost barren, and known only as a vast sheep range; to-day, owing to a thorough system of irrigation, there are nearly 30,000 acres of reclaimed land that bloom and blossom and bear fruit with all the fertility, the beauty, and abundance of a tropical garden.”

We have now entered the orange district, and large groves are seen on every hand, golden with the luscious fruit. At Pomona a halt of sufficient length is made to allow several baskets of oranges to be put on the train, which are distributed amongst the party and found to be delicious and refreshing. We are unable to ascertain who are the thoughtful donors, but all the