man, let alone one in as delicate health as Stevenson at that time, and
it is a wonder he ever lived through it. Indeed, he was ill but kept
cheerful in spite of all, and was interested in the country and the
sights along the way. His own discomforts seemed to dwindle when he
contrasted them with those the pioneers endured travelling that same
direction twenty years before; crawling along in ox-carts with their
cattle and family possessions; suffering hunger, thirst, and infinite
weariness, and living in daily terror of attack from the Indians.
He made note of all he saw and the doings of his fellow emigrants, to be
used later on. Letters to Henley and Colvin en route are interesting.
"In the Emigrant Train from New York to San Francisco, Aug., 1879.
DEAR COLVIN,--I am in the cars between Pittsburg and Chicago, just now
bowling through Ohio. I am taking charge of a kid, whose mother is
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