On the same day, and the same moment, Mr. Russell superintended the start of the Pony Express from its eastern terminus.  An arrangement had been made with the railroads between New York and Saint Joseph for a fast train which was scheduled to arrive with the mail at the proper time.  The Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad also ran a special engine, and the boat which made the crossing of the Missouri River was detained for the purpose of instantly transferring the letters.  Mr. Russell in person adjusted the letter-pouch on the pony.  Many of the enthusiastic crowd who had congregated to witness the inauguration of the fast mail plucked hairs from the hardy little animal’s tail as talismans of good luck.  In a few seconds the rider was mounted, the steamboat gave an encouraging whistle, and the pony dashed away on his long journey to the next station.

The large newspapers of both New York and the Pacific coast were ready patronizers of the express.  The issues of their papers were printed on tissue manufactured purposely for this novel way of transmitting the news.  On the arrival of the pony from the West, the news brought from the Pacific and along the route of the trail was telegraphed from St. Joseph to the East the moment the animal arrived with his important budget.

To form some idea of the enthusiasm created by the inauguration of the Pony Express, the St. Joseph Free Democrat said in relation to this novel method of carrying the news across the continent:—­

Take down your map and trace the footprints of our quadrupedantic animal:  From St. Joseph, on the Missouri, to San Francisco, on the Golden Horn—­two thousand miles—­ more than half the distance across our boundless continent; through Kansas, through Nebraska, by Fort Kearney, along the Platte, by Fort Laramie, past the Buttes, over the Rocky Mountains, through the narrow passes and along the steep defiles, Utah, Fort Bridger, Salt Lake City, he witches Brigham with his swift pony-ship—­through the valleys, along the grassy slopes, into the snow, into sand, faster than Thor’s Thialfi, away they go, rider and horse—­did you see them?

They are in California, leaping over its golden sands, treading its busy streets.  The courser has unrolled to us the great American panorama, allowed us to glance at the home of one million people, and has put a girdle around the earth in forty minutes.  Verily the riding is like the riding of Jehu, the son of Nimshi, for he rideth furiously.  Take out your watch.  We are eight days from New York, eighteen from London.  The race is to the swift.

A whole volume might be gathered of the stirring incidents and adventures of the hardy employees of the Pony Express in its two years of existence.  The majority of the actors in that memorable enterprise have passed beyond the confines of time.

J. G. Kelley, one of the veteran riders, now living in Denver, tells his story of those eventful days, when he rode over the lonely trail carrying despatches for Russell, Majors, & Waddell.