lantic and
Pacific Road correspond to the omnivorous cars in use on our railroads
generally. But we are a family-party, have nearly a week of travel
before us, and prefer to sacrifice our money rather than our comfort. It
costs a third, perhaps one-half more, to take first-class tickets; but
these secure us a compartment entirely to ourselves,--fitted up with all
the luxury of a lady's boudoir. We have comfortable arm-chairs to sit in
all day, the latest improvement in folding-beds to sleep in at night.
Our mirror, water-tank, basin, and all our toilet-arrangements are
independent of the rest of the train. We have a table in the centre of
our compartment for cards or luncheon. If we are wise, we have also
brought along three or four Champagne-baskets stocked with private
commissariat-stores, which make us quite independent of that black-art
known as Western cookery. These contain sardines (half-boxes are the
most practically useful size for a small party); chow-chow;
_pates-de-foie-gras_; a selection of various potted meats; a few hundred
_Zwiebacks_ from our Berlin baker, and as many sticks of Italian bread
from our Milanese; a dozen pounds of hard-tack, and a half-dozen of
soda-crackers; an assortment of canned fruits, including, as absolute
essentials, peaches and the Shaker apple-butter; a pot of anchovy-paste;
a dozen half-pint boxes of concentrated coffee, and as many of condensed
milk, both, as the writer has abundantly tested, prepared with
unrivalled excellence by an establishment in Boston; a tin box
containing ten pounds of lump-sugar; a kettle and gas-stove, to be
attached by a flexible tube to one of the burners lighting the
compartment; a dozen bottles of lemon-syrup; and whatever stores, in the
way of wines, liquors, and cigars, may strike the fancy of the party.
This may seem an ambitious outfit, but for the first year of the Pacific
Railroad it will be an absolutely necessary one. As civilization spreads
westward along the grand iron conductor of the continent, our national
gastronomy will develop itself in company with all the other arts; but
for the present it is safe to assume that outside of our private stores
we shall not find a good cup of coffee after we leave St. Louis, or
decent bread of any kind between Denver and Sacramento.

We seat ourselves in our comfortable arm-chairs, without the
mortification of removing single gentlemen and the trouble of reversing
seats to accommodate our party. The