We at length extricate ourselves from the maze of corn-cakes and pancakes, waffles and muffins and pies without number, with which our kind friends of Hermann tempt and tantalize our satiated palates, and once more set forth after the wheezing, reluctant locomotive, over the rough road, through the dreary hills, along the bank of the treacherous river.

At ten o’clock, in ten weary hours, we have accomplished one hundred and twenty miles, and have reached Jefferson City.  The train backs and starts ahead, halts and backs and jerks, and finally, with a long sigh of relief, the locomotive stops, and a gentleman in citizen’s dress enters the car, carrying a lantern in his hand.  It was Brigadier-General Price, commanding at Jefferson City.  He took possession of the General, and, with us closely following, left the car.  But leaving the train was a somewhat more difficult matter.  We went along-side the train, over the train, under the train, but still those cars seemed to surround us like a corral.  We at length outflanked the train, but still failed to extricate ourselves from the labyrinth.  Informed, or rather deluded, by the “lantern dimly burning,” we floundered into ditches and scrambled out of them, we waded mud-puddles and stumbled over boulders, until finally the ever-present train disappeared in the darkness, we rushed up a steep hill, heard the welcome sound as our feet touched a brick walk, and, after turning two or three corners, found ourselves in the narrow hall of the “principal hotel.”  We were tired and disgusted, and no one stood upon the order of his going, but went at once to sleep upon whatever floor, table, or bed offered itself.

This morning we are pleased to hear that the General has resolved to go into camp.  Of course the best houses in the place are at our disposal, but it is wisely thought that our soldier-life will not begin until we are fairly under canvas.

All day we have had an exhibition of a Missouri crowd.  The sidewalk has been fringed with curious gazers waiting to catch a glimpse of the General.  Foote, the comedian, said, that, until he landed on the quays at Dublin, he never knew what the London beggars did with their old clothes.  One should go to Missouri to see what the New-York beggars do with their old clothes.  But it is not the dress alone.  Such vacant, listless faces, with laziness written in every line, and ignorance seated upon every feature!  Is it for these that the descendants of New England and the thrifty Germans are going forth to battle?  If Missouri depended upon the Missourians, there would be little chance for her safety, and, indeed, not very much to save.

October 4th. We have been in camp since Sunday, the 29th of September.  Our tents are pitched upon abroad shelf half-way down a considerable hill.  Behind us the hill rises a hundred feet or more, shutting us in from the south; in front, to the north, the hill inclines to a ravine which separates us from other less lofty hills.  Our camp is upon open ground, but there is a fine forest to the east and west.