riends to meet me, etc.,
etc. He kindly consented to do so and had my trunk re-checked. On
arriving, as there was no light, no sound, and the depot was half a mile
from the town, the conductor urged me to go to Cedar Rapids and come
back the next morning, as it was Sunday night and the depot might not be
opened, and I might be compelled to stay there on the platform all night
in the cold.

But, as I had telegraphed, I told him I thought someone would be there,
and I would take the risk. So off went the train, leaving me solitary
and alone. I could see the lights in the distant town and the dark
outlines of two great mills near by, which suggested dams and races. I
heard, too, the distant barking of dogs, and I thought there might be
wolves, too; but no human sound. The platform was high and I could see
no way down, and I should not have dared to go down if I had. So I
walked all round the house, knocked at every door and window, called
"John!" "James!" "Patrick!" but no response. Dressed in all their best,
they had, no doubt, gone to visit Sally, and I knew they would stay
late. The night wind was cold. What could I do? The prospect of spending
the night there filled me with dismay. At last I thought I would try my
vocal powers; so I hallooed as loud as I could, in every note of the
gamut, until I was hoarse. At last I heard a distant sound, a loud
halloo, which I returned, and so we kept it up until the voice grew
near, and, when I heard a man's heavy footsteps close at hand, I was
relieved. He proved to be the telegraph operator, who had been a brave
soldier in the late war. He said that no message had come from Dixon. He
escorted me to the hotel, where some members of the Lyceum Committee
came in and had a hearty laugh at my adventure, especially that, in my
distress, I should have called on James and John and Patrick, instead of
Jane, Ann, and Bridget. They seemed to argue that that was an admission,
on my part, of man's superiority, but I suggested that, as my sex had
not yet been exalted to the dignity of presiding in depots and baggage
rooms, there would have been no propriety in calling Jane and Ann.

Mt. Vernon was distinguished for a very flourishing Methodist college,
open to boys and girls alike. The president and his wife were liberal
and progressive people. I dined with them in their home near the
college, and met some young ladies from Massachusetts, who were teachers
in the institution. All who gathered