Finally, Oct. 4th, we closed up our duties at Denver, and started for Salt Lake. The stage left at 8 P. M., and after much hearty hand-shaking and kindly good-byes, we were at last off for the Pacific. For the first time we fully realized, that we had definitely cut loose from the Atlantic States, and had a long and toilsome trip now before us. I remember a feeling of sadness, as this conviction came sharply upon me; but we were soon whirling across the Platte, and off for Laporte. The fare through to Salt Lake, some 600 miles, with 25 pounds of baggage, was $150, currency; meals extra, at $1,00 and $1,50 each. Our coach, "Red Rupert," was a mountain mud-wagon, with a low canvas top, so as to be less liable to capsize in crossing the range, than a regular Concord Coach, and was intended for ten passengers--nine inside and one outside. As we had only half that number of passengers, however, we thought we would get along very comfortably. We had gamey, spirited horses, that carried us along quite rapidly, until near midnight, when we stuck fast in a mudhole, and all hands were ordered up to help shift baggage and lift the coach out. Next morning early we rolled into Laporte, having made seventy-five miles since leaving Denver. It was a bright clear morning, with a crisp bracing air, and we sat down to an excellent breakfast of fried elk, potatoes, eggs, etc., as hungry as wolves. In the corner of the room, at a rude table, sat a little bearded man, eyeing us occasionally as he bent over his maps and papers, whose face seemed familiar; and presently I recognized him as Gen. Dodge, an old acquaintance of war times in Tennessee in 1864. Now he was Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific Railroad, and was here comparing maps and surveys, to see whether they couldn't find a shorter route to Salt Lake, than the somewhat circuitous one by Bridger's Pass. He recognized me about the same moment, and we had a hearty hand-shake and chat over old times.