never so weary, after many a long day's travel. This all could hear as well as the hymn, the prayer. A sudden shout--"antelope!" "buffalo!" would rouse the most dejected. Weariness, grief, found many a strange yet wholesome tonic. These questions occur to me while I write: Had the emigrants remained at home, would more of them have lived, would more of them have died? I mean, would they have longer lived, have later died? Ah, where comes not life's tragedy? Come or go, remain--the end is still the same! "An Exhausted Ox." This was a sight that was not infrequent. When, upon the road, the strength of an ox gave out, when it could go no further, and tottered or fell, wearied beyond endurance, beside its mate, it was a matter of no small import. It meant, perhaps, the loss of the yoke, of their use, I mean, for it was hard to remate an ox upon the road. Yet, at times, it must be done. A plug of tobacco, bound between two slices of bacon, such was the medicine that was administered to the ailing ox. It was a kill or a cure; sometimes it was the one, sometimes it was the other. Lep and Dick, the "wheelers" to our leading wagon, were the largest cattle in the entire train. And Dick, especially, was big, and he, at our very last camping-ground, laid down and died. But it was from the eating of wild parsley. But, in few cases, there was hardship, distress inflicted upon the emigrant by the loss of cattle. I have already instanced one case, that of the unfortunate man, whose wife died at night upon the slopes of the Black Hills. I am here reminded to mention another fact. It was really quite a disclosure to see the changing appearance of the train. Not alone as it changed from week to week, becoming more and more travel marked, but also as it changed in appearance, in order, I mean, from hour to hour, as we moved upon the road. In making the daily start--morn or noonday--the wagons would take their place in the line with an almost mathematical accuracy. The noses of each leading yoke of cattle would nearly touch the end-board of the wagon preceding them. But soon this order was broken. Such an incident as that related in the former paragraph, or if not the actual happening, then the weakened pulling force caused by some happening of the day or week before, was the cause. And, of course, this became the more pronounced amid the mountains than upon the plains. To keep this train compact under the circumstances was one of the chief labors of the Captain and his aids. Here is a wide gap in the locale of the sketches. It is the result of a mountain fever. What a gloriously majestic outline the peaks of the Wind River Mountains make, and especially from that spot, the High Springs, in the South Pass! Delightsome days were ours as we moved slowly forward through that broad and famous highway, with that towering range of mountains all the while seeming to gaze down upon us! Joyfully we burst into song: