_Friday._ About two P.M. the sky was suddenly darkened with angry looking clouds, and I watched them with interest as they grew more threatening and the thunder spoke in louder tones. I was not anxious to witness a cyclone, but if one _must_ come, I wanted to watch its coming, and see all I could of it. But the winds swept the clouds rapidly by, and in a couple of hours the streets were dry, and we drove out to see the only damage done, which was the partial wreck of a brick building that was being erected. Reports came in of a heavy fall of hail a few miles west that had the destroyed corn crop in some places. This was the hardest storm seen during my stay in the state. [ERRATA. Page 245, last line but one, in place of "Nebraska is visited" read "Nebraska is _not_ visited." Third line from bottom leave out the word "not" from commencement of line.] Nebraska is not visited, as some suppose, with the terrible cyclones and wind storms that sweep over some parts of the West; nor have I experienced the constant wind that I was told of before I came; yet Nebraska has more windy weather than does Pennsylvania. The sun comes down with power, and when the day is calm, is very oppressive; but the cool evenings revive and invigorate all nature. _Saturday_ we spent in seeing the city from center to suburb and drinking from the artesian well in the government square. The water has many medical properties, and is used as a general "cure-all." Climbing the many steps to the belfry of the University, we had a fine view of the city, looking north, east, south, and west, far over housetops. Many are fine buildings of stone and brick, and many beautiful residences with well kept lawns. The streets are 100 and 120 feet wide. Sixteen feet on each side are appropriated for sidewalks, five of which, in all but the business streets, is the walk proper--built of stone, brick, or plank--and the remaining eleven feet are planted with shade trees, and are as nicely kept as the door yards. The streets running north and south are numbered from first to twenty-fifth street. Those from east to west are lettered from A to W. Saturday evening--a beautiful moonlight night--just such a night as makes one wish for a ride. Who can blame me if I take one? A friend has been telling how travelers among the Rockies have to climb the mountains on mountain mules or burros. My curiosity is aroused to know if when I reach the foot of Pike's Peak, I can ascend. It would be aggravating to go so far and not be able to reach the Peak just because I couldn't ride on a donkey. So Mrs. K. engaged Gussie Chapman, a neighbor's boy, to bring his burro over _after dark_. All saddled, Fanny waits at the door, and I must go.