What to do after my return to San Francisco became a question. My sons, from all they had seen in America, liked the idea of breeding cattle best, and thought to possess a good ranche was the best way to make money. I was inclined to the same opinion, and discussing the matter after my return, we decided that a ranche should carry the day. But California is not the country for ranches, and we determined to go elsewhere. They had both been a long time in Colorado, and seen many ranches in that state. There, they said, was any amount of grass, making Colorado one of the best, if not _the_ best, ranch country. I had heard much the same from others, and Colorado was eventually decided on. Between decision and departure not many days elapsed. Our stay at San Francisco had still further limited my means, there was a ranche to buy and pay for, and thus economy was more necessary than ever. We took third-class tickets to Denver, the capital of Colorado, and for a part of the way, luckily, got an emigrant car, in which we could find room for our mattresses, and so managed to sleep at night. But, as I have said before, accommodation for emigrants is given westward only, and I know not why this exception was made over a part of the line; but this I do know, when, during the last two nights and one day of the journey, we were put into a second-class carriage because there was no third, and had to sit up on seats all night, it was very trying. Every one knows the Americans spit a good deal, but few know the extent to which they carry the nasty habit. The second-class carriage was far worse in this respect than the emigrant car. The floor was literally covered with saliva, and sit where you would, for it was crowded, you did not feel safe. True, they are good shots, and can generally make sure to three square inches of the spot they aim at; still, when you are surrounded with shooters, as we were in this car, you feel nervous, especially at night when the dim light makes it more than ever hazardous. In the Pullman car spitting on the floor is not allowed; the class so travelling are naturally more considerate in this way, nay, possibly, we will hope, steer clear of the habit, but to some even there it is a necessity, and entails an open window or frequent rushes to the spittoon, put considerately out of the way, so that in the Pullman car you avoid the nuisance.