A balloon ascension followed the entertainment and during the day the “Great Republic” made an excursion around the bay.

On an S. P. Pay-Car.

In the summer of 1874 the paymaster of the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, Major J. M. Hanford, sent me an invitation to accompany him on the pay car through the San Joaquin Valley, to pay off the employees of the company.  I was delighted to have an opportunity of going through the valley.  At the appointed time I was on hand with two boxes of cigars, for I knew the Major was likely to have some lively, good natured fellows with him, and I wanted to have something with me to help me along.  Now I must say something about this pay car, for it was a wonderful thing for me.  It had the appearance on the inside of a hotel on wheels.  At the rear end was a window through which the employees were paid; the depth of the room in which were the pay master and his two check clerks, was about the same as the width of the car.  In it were the safe, rifles, shotguns, pistols, ammunition galore, with an opening into what was used as the dining room and berths, which would accommodate about 12 people.  Then came the cook’s room on one side, with a narrow passageway on the other, into a small room in the front end of the car.  This car was sixty feet in length and would make you think you were in a palace hotel on wheels.  Hank Small, who had hands as big as a garden spade, was the engineer, with engine No. 96, which was always expected to pull the pay car.  Then there was a man by the name of Olmsby who was one of the check clerks, young and very fine looking.  Then there was another man in the employ of the company by the name of Gerald who was auditor for the company and had feet twice as large as any other man.  Now I want my readers to hold these three men in mind and their peculiarities for I shall refer to them later on.

We are all now seated at the supper table, ten in all, and all railroad men except myself, with the dignified paymaster at the head of the table and his check clerk, Olmsby, at the foot, who assumed the duty of saying grace by making motions around his chest and head, accompanied with these words, “Bucksaws filed and set.”  This created some amusement and was the only time it occurred.  The supper went on and the tables were cleared away, and then there was chatting and story telling.  Finally I started to tell a story and had gotten fairly into it when I suddenly discovered that every man in the room was sound asleep.  It did not take me long to wake them up and have every man on his feet or on the floor.  This did not last long, for I brought out one of my boxes of cigars and that settled the question right there.  The next day we were in the San Joaquin Valley and continued the trip, paying the men as we went along, until we reached Bakersfield.  This was the end of the road at that time.  Then we returned to Stockton, to Sacramento, to Red Bluff, which was the end of the road in that direction at