accompanied by many of our friends of the night before, we journeyed on until we reached the Forest Station, not so named for forest-trees,—as a place more void of natural beauty or sentiment never existed.
Here our trouble began. As our expected van for the baggage did not appear, our little stage-driver, who seldom if ever gazed upon so much baggage for one party, was entirely at a loss what to do. Finally, deciding to leave the larger portion, we mounted the two-horse wagon, otherwise called stage,—a party of six. The gentlemen of the party did duty in holding on the trunks, while one lady grasped all the bags in her reach. As we mounted the steep hill the rack gave way. Alas for pickles and trunks! What would then have become of us, had I not had the never-failing string and wire to mend the poor broken-down wagon. The baggage was soon readjusted, and we all took seats as we could find them,—a merry party, in spite of
