Bannock on the brain!  That is what is the matter now.  Wagon-load after wagon-load of emigrants, bound to the new Idaho gold regions, meet us every hour.  Canvas-covered and drawn for the most part by fine large mules, they make a pleasant panorama, as they stretch slowly over the plains and uplands.  We strike the South Platte Sunday, 21st, and breakfast at Latham, a station of one-horse proportions.  We are now in Colorado ("Pike's Peak"), and we diverge from the main route here and visit the flourishing and beautiful city of Denver, where I lecture. We go to the mountains from Denver, visiting the celebrated gold-mining towns of Black Hawk and Central ity.  I leave this queen of all the territories, quite firmly believing that its future is to be no less brilliant than its past has been. Back to Latham again over a marshy road, and on to Nebraska by the main stage-line. We reach Julesberg, Colorado, the 1st of March.  We are in the country of the Sioux Indians now, and encounter them by the hundred.  A Chief offers to sell me his daughter (a fair young Indian maiden) for six dollars and two quarts of whisky.  I decline to trade. Kansas, 105 miles from Atchison.  Atchison! No traveller by sea ever longed to set his foot on shore as we longed to reach the end of our dreary coach-ride over the wildest part of the whole continent.  How we talked Atchison, and dreamed Atchison, for the next fifty hours! Atchison, I shall always love you.  You were evidently mistaken, Atchison, when you told me that in case I "lectured" there, immense crowds would throng to the hall; but you are very dear to me.  Let me kiss you for your maternal parent! We are passing through the reservation of the Otoe Indians, who long ago washed the war-paint from their faces, buried the tomahawk, and settled down into quiet, prosperous farmers. _______________ We rattle leisurely into Atchison on a Sunday evening.  Lights gleam in the windows of milk-white churches, and they tell us, far better than anything else could, that we are back to civilization again. _______________ XIV. VERY MUCH MARRIED. Are the Mormon women happy? I give it up.  I don't know. Igive it up.  I don't know.  Apparently, the Mormon women are happy.  I saw them at their best, of course--at balls, tea-parties and the like.  They were like other women as far as my observation extended.  They were hooped, and furbelowed, and shod, and white-collard, and bejewelled; and like women all over the world, they were softer-eyed and kinder-hearted than men can ever hope to be.