"To-day we are in Kansas, and it is very flat, and not at all pretty. Uncle Henry says we won't have any more fine scenery till we get to the Hudson. The train seems stuffier than ever, and I am just pining for fresh air and exercise. We sat on the observation platform for a while this morning, but Uncle Henry didn't like the cinders, and wouldn't let me stay there by myself, so we came back to our car. I don't think traveling on a train is quite as pleasant as I thought it was going to be. I am sure I should like an automobile better. We saw automobiles at Topeka, where we stopped for ten minutes this morning, and they looked very queer, going all by themselves, without any horses, but I think I should like a ride in one. Uncle Henry says Aunt Julia is afraid of automobiles, so she still uses a carriage. "I talked to some people in the observation car--a lady and a little boy, who are going to Chicago--but I think most of the passengers on this train are rather unsociable. They don't talk much to each other but just read magazines and newspapers when they are awake, and take naps about every hour. I have watched the two ladies in the section opposite mine, and they have been asleep at least four times to-day. I heard one of them say she never could sleep on a train; wasn't that funny? "We can post letters from Kansas City, where we are due at half past eight to-night, so I can send this on from there. We get to Chicago to-morrow morning, and have three hours there; won't that be exciting? Oh, I do hope Uncle Henry will take me for a good long walk! I feel as if I could tramp ten miles. "Good-bye, you precious Auntie! I send a thousand hugs and kisses to everybody. Tell Undine not to forget Roland's sugar--he always has three lumps--and to be sure the kittens in the barn have their milk every night and morning. I am afraid I forgot to tell her about the kittens; there were so many other things to think of. I am so glad you and Mother have Undine; she is such a dear, and I know will try to take my place. I will write to Father and Mother after I have been in Chicago. "From your own little niece, "MARJORIE." "October 30th. "MY OWN PRECIOUS FATHER AND MOTHER: "This letter is for you both, and Aunt Jessie must have a share in it, too, because it is the last I shall be able to write on the train.