I Saw A Good Deal Of The Town In
My Drive, But, As I Returned To It Before Leaving The
States, I shall
defer my description of it, and request my readers to dash away at once
with me to
The "far west," the goal alike of the traveller and the
adventurer, and the El Dorado of the emigrant's misty ideas.
Leaving American House with its hall swarming like a hive of bees, I drove
to the depôt in a hack with several fellow-passengers, Mr. Amy, who was
executing a commission for me in the town, having promised to meet me
there, but, he being detained, I arrived alone, and was deposited among
piles of luggage, in a perfect Babel of men vociferating, "Where are you
for?" "Lightning Express!" "All aboard for the Western cars," &c. Some one
pounced upon my trunks, and was proceeding to weigh them, when the stage-
driver stepped forward and said, "It's a lady's luggage," upon which he
relinquished his intention. He also took my ticket for me, handed me to
the cars, and then withdrew, wishing me a pleasant journey, his prompt
civility having assisted me greatly in the chaotic confusion which attends
the departure of a train in America. The cars by which I left were
guaranteed to take people to Cincinnati, a distance of 1000 miles, in 40
hours, allowing time for refreshments! I was to travel by five different
lines of railway, but this part of the railway system is so well arranged
that I only took a ticket once, rather a curious document - a strip of
paper half a yard long, with passes for five different roads upon it;
thus, whenever I came upon a fresh line, the conductor tore off a piece,
giving me a ticket in exchange.
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