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From Newberry Transcribe
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53 I jumped into the cars again - at the sound of "All aboard" This was the famous night train - and soon the people snored - I threw myself into a seat - and tried to do "just so" The doors the creaked and babies squalled and "Troth" it was "no go" As morn appeared I felt releived - that the country I might see - But Swamps and timber lands quite vast, was all there seemed to be At last log cabins hove in sight - and Prairie vast and grand Which almost made me think at times - I was in desert land - But the Iron Horse he onward sped - (he never tires - oh no) Into the garden city - they call it Chi-ca-go - I could not think of stopping here, so on the train I jumped. And ere I left this rail road line I was well thumped and bumped - When I arrived at Rock Island - Twas ten oclock at night - I soon retired and slept quite sound - should not you think I might? The morn appeared - the rosy morn - I then surveyed the city Which lies upon the eastern bank - of the noble Mississippi Whose bosom then was veiled with ice and on that bridge I walked To pretty, lovely Davenport - and around her streets I stalked This city as you well may know - lies on the western bank Compared with other cities West - it leaves them all a blank - From here I took an upward course - quite to the boundary line - From Wisconsin and Iowa - and here I had a "time". Du Buque it is a splendid point - for business or for pleasure Although the chief aim seems to be - the "gathering up of treasure". From here I backward turned my steps - unto the garden city - About which many a tale is told - some grave - and others witty I patronised the Briggs Hotel - its landlords are French & Floyd It is a glorious place to fill - the "Stomach's aching void". I stopped one week in this fast place which drained my pocket some - Then westward turned my steps again - in search of Burlington - I stepped on board the Lightining Train in mornings early glow - The Mercury was full twenty five degrees below zero We started off but ere we run quite fifty miles I "Trow" The Locomotive fast was stuck - in fifteen feet of snow - She screamed and blowed, and twitched, and jerked, and puffed like all creation But nightfall closed upon the scene - ere we had reached a station: Mendota (so the place was called) - it was a welcome town - To hungry travellers as we were - the people did us "brown". We started off again next morn - and after much delay We reached our destination - just before the "break of day" My fellow travellers then I left - and streaked across the river Into the Wightman House so cold, oh, I was all of a shiver Judge Wightman is the landlord of this the grand Hotel He is a fine old gentleman - and feeds his patrons well