Chapter IX: Section 12: , Mr. and Mrs. M. Houston. Brother Houston is S. C. of West (1)

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

_Yours in P.F.

O H Bacon

T & P Ry_]

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.”