Men came with their wives and their sweethearts, dressed just as they were from their work, and the women as they were in their homes. Evening clothes would have been as much out of place in that ballroom, as the garb of a workman would be out of place in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria. The orchestra struck up, and Buchan and Hattie were given the place of honor in the dance. Carson and Annie, being better known, felt that they should largely play the part of host and yielded every honor to Buchan and Hattie. The music was good. Everybody joined in the spirit of goodfellowship, and the dance continued until the small hours of the morning. It was toward the close that Rayder came upon the floor with a fat widow milliner. He had taken a few drinks of gin and was trying to act kittenish when, in the midst of a cotillion, the widow fell to the floor in an epileptic fit. They bore the woman to an adjoining room, where she soon recovered, but it was such a shock to Rayder's nerves that he went out and braced up on a little more gin. * * * * * I was at the governor's reception in the state capitol of Colorado. The rooms and corridors were brilliantly lighted. Men and women in rich attire were there to do honor to the occasion. I was seated behind a decoration of palms, when a prominent attorney and a companion took seats near me. A heavy set man with a woman leaning on his arm entered the corridor. They were well, but modestly dressed. There were grey streaks in their hair, but their steps were firm and, both were the picture of good health, evidence of good and wholesome lives.