nday, Jan. 13th, 1868._

I write you this note, a day later than your aunt's, not because I have
anything to add to the little I have told her, but because you may like
to have it.

We arrived here last night towards twelve o'clock, more than an hour
after our time. This is one of the immense American hotels (it is called
the Continental); but I find myself just as quiet here as elsewhere.
Everything is very good indeed, the waiter is German, and the greater
part of the house servants seem to be coloured people. The town is very
clean, and the day as blue and bright as a fine Italian day. But it
freezes very hard. All the tickets being sold here for six nights (three
visits of two nights each), the suite complain of want of excitement
already, having been here ten hours! Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams, with
a couple of servants, and a pretty little child-daughter, were in the
train each night, and I talked with them a good deal. They are reported
to have made an enormous fortune by acting among the Californian
gold-diggers. My cold is no better, for the cars are so intolerably hot,
that I was often obliged to go and stand upon the break outside, and
then the frosty air was biting indeed. The great man of this place is
one Mr. Childs, a newspaper proprietor, and he is so exactly like Mr.
Esse in all conceivable respects except being an inch or so taller, that
I was quite confounded when I saw him waiting for me at the station
(always called depot here) with his carriage. During the last two or
three days, Dolby and I have been making up accounts, which are
excellently kept by Mr. Osgood, and I find them amazing, quite, in their
results.

I was very much interested in the home accounts of Christmas Day. I
think I have already mentioned that we were in very low spirits on that
day. I began to be unwell with my cold that morning, and a long day's
travel did not mend the matter. We scarcely spoke (except when we ate
our lunch), and sat dolefully staring out of window. I had a few
affectionate words from Chorley, dated from my room, on Christmas
morning, and will write him, probably by this mail, a brief
acknowledgment. I find it necessary (so oppressed am I with this
American catarrh, as they call it) to dine at three o'clock instead of
four, that I may have more time to get voice, so that the days are cut
short, and letter-writing is not easy.

My best love to Katie, and to Charley, and to our Charley, and to all
friends