immediately in an emigrant train bound for the Pacific coast.
On reaching port he and a man named Jones, with whom he had had more in
common than with any of his other fellow passengers, landed together.
"Jones and I issued into West Street, sitting on some straw in the
bottom of an open baggage wagon. It rained miraculously, and from that
moment till on the following night I left New York, there was scarce a
lull, and no cessation of the downpour....
"It took but a few moments, though it cost a good deal of money, to be
rattled along West Street to our destination: Reunion House, No. 10 West
Street, 'kept by one Mitchell.'
"Here I was at last in America and was soon out upon the New York
streets, spying for things foreign....
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