the man's snore, and seeing by his painful look, he was having
an awful dream, we tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Conductor! Turn
over that seat, and take my shawl, and stretch yourself out, and have a
comfortable nap." "Thank you, sir," he said, and immediately sprawled
himself out in the easiest way possible. He began his slumbers just as an
express train glides gracefully out of Pittsburg depot; then went at it
more earnestly, lifted all the brakes, put on all the steam, and in five
minutes was under splendid headway. He began a second dream, but it was the
opposite of the first. He thought that he had just stepped on the platform
of his car, and a lady handed him a bouquet fresh from the hot house. A
long line of railroad presidents and superintendents had come to the depot
to see him off, and tipped their hats as he glided out into the open air.
The car was an improvement on Pullman's best. Three golden goblets stood at
the end, and every time he turned the spigot of the water cask, it foamed
soda-water--vanilla if you turned it one way, strawberry if you turned it
the other. The spittoon was solid silver, and had never been used but once,
when a child threw into it an orange peeling. The car was filled with lords
and duchesses, who rose and bowed as he passed through to collect the fare.
They all insisted on paying twice as much as was demanded, telling him to
give half to the company and keep the rest for himself. Stopped a few
minutes at Jolly Town, Gleeville and Velvet Junction, making connection
with the Grand Trunk and Pan-Handle route for Paradise. But when the train
halted there was no jolt, and when it started there was no jerk. The track
was always clear, no freight train in the way, no snow bank to be
shoveled--train always on time. Banks of roses on either side, bridges with
piers of bronze, and flagmen clad in cloth-of-gold. The train went three
hundred miles the hour, but without any risk, for all the passengers were
insured against accident in a company that was willing to pay four times
the price of what any neck was worth. The steam whistle breathed as sweetly
as any church choir chanting its opening piece. Nobody asked the conductor
to see his time-table, for the only dread any passenger had was that of
coming to the end of its journey.

As night came on the self-adjusting couches spread themselves on either
side; patent bootjacks rolled up and took your boots off; unseen fingers
tucked the da