It was midnight when we arrived at Watab, where we were to lodge.  The weather had been delightful during the day, but after nightfall a high wind rose and filled the air with dust.  I descended from the stage—­ for I had rode upon the outside—­ with self-satisfied emotions of having come eighty-two miles since morning.  The stage-house was crowded.  It is a two-story building, the rooms of which are small.  I went to bed, I was about to say, without any supper.  But that was not so.  I didn’t get any supper, it is true, neither did I get a bed; for they were all occupied.  The spare room on the floor was also taken.  The proprietor, however, was accommodating, and gave me a sort of a lounge in rather a small room where three or four other men, and a dog, were sleeping on the floor.  I fixed the door ajar for ventilation, and with my overcoat snugly buttoned around me, though it was not cold, addressed myself to sleep.  In the morning I found that one of the occupants was an ex-alderman from the fifth ward of New York; and that in the room over me slept no less a personage than Parker H. French.  I say I ascertained these facts in the morning.  Mr. French came to Watab a few weeks ago with a company of mechanics, and has been rushing the place ahead with great zeal.  He appears to make a good impression on the people of the town.

A heavy rain had fallen during the night; the stage was but moderately loaded, and I started out from Watab, after breakfast the next morning, in bright spirits.  Still the road is level, and at a slow trot the team makes better time than a casual observer is conscious of.  Soon we came to Little Rock River, which is one of the crookedest streams that was ever known of.  We are obliged to cross it twice within a short space.  Twelve miles this side we cross the beautiful Platte River.  It would make this letter much more monotonous than it is, I fear, were I to name all the rivers we pass.  They are very numerous:  and as they increase the delight of the traveller, so are they also a delight and a convenience to the settler.  Like the rivers of New England, they are clear and rapid, and furnish abundant means for water-power.  The view which we catch of the Mississippi is frequent, but brief, as the road crosses its curves in the most direct manner.  Much of the best land on either side of the road is in the hands of speculators, who purchased it at public sale, or afterwards plastered it over with land warrants.  There is evidence of this on the entire route; for, although we pass populous villages, and a great many splendid farms, the greater part of the land is still unoccupied.  The soil is dark colored, but in some places quite mealy; everywhere free from stones, and susceptible of easy cultivation.