do not care so much. The heat is very oppressive and the dust covers us. Thanks to sister Eliza for the napkins in our basket. In the car is a water-tank ; we wet the napkins and wipe our faces, hands, and necks. How it cools and refreshes us! The napkins give proof what color we are, by their own dingy aspect. We rinse them, and dry them on the window-sill.
The sun has been staring us in the face for a long time, as though he would look us out of countenance for running away from home. What a flood of glory about him! I feel a little rebuked at his unwinking stare. I muster up from my memory all the reasons wherewith I nerved myself to leave dear New England; but they do not stand out so clearly as when first enrolled in my cause. Like me, they seem wilted by the heat and marred by the noise.
But now the sun has gone down, and we are in Springfield—that is to say, in Springfield Depot. I hope no one ever gave out word that he had seen a city or a town after whisking through the back side of it in the cars. We stop here for another train to
