The elders of the party were not long in discovering the fact, which almost all travelers to the west soon find out; that the water was poor.  It must have been by a lucky premonition of this that they all had brandy flasks with which to qualify the water of the country; and it was no doubt from an uneasy feeling of the danger of being poisoned that they kept experimenting, mixing a little of the dangerous and changing fluid, as they passed along, with the contents of the flasks, thus saving their lives hour by hour.  Philip learned afterwards that temperance and the strict observance of Sunday and a certain gravity of deportment are geographical habits, which people do not usually carry with them away from home.

Our travelers stopped in Chicago long enough to see that they could make their fortunes there in two week’s tine, but it did not seem worth while; the west was more attractive; the further one went the wider the opportunities opened.

They took railroad to Alton and the steamboat from there to St. Louis, for the change and to have a glimpse of the river.

“Isn’t this jolly?” cried Henry, dancing out of the barber’s room, and coming down the deck with a one, two, three step, shaven, curled and perfumed after his usual exquisite fashion.

“What’s jolly?” asked Philip, looking out upon the dreary and monotonous waste through which the shaking steamboat was coughing its way.

“Why, the whole thing; it’s immense I can tell you.  I wouldn’t give that to be guaranteed a hundred thousand cold cash in a year’s time.”

“Where’s Mr. Brown?”

“He is in the saloon, playing poker with Schaick and that long haired party with the striped trousers, who scrambled aboard when the stage plank was half hauled in, and the big Delegate to Congress from out west.”

“That’s a fine looking fellow, that delegate, with his glossy, black whiskers; looks like a Washington man; I shouldn’t think he’d be at poker.”

“Oh, its only five cent ante, just to make it interesting, the Delegate said.”

“But I shouldn’t think a representative in Congress would play poker any way in a public steamboat.”

“Nonsense, you’ve got to pass the time.  I tried a hand myself, but those old fellows are too many for me.  The Delegate knows all the points.  I’d bet a hundred dollars he will ante his way right into the United States Senate when his territory comes in.  He’s got the cheek for it.”

“He has the grave and thoughtful manner of expectoration of a public man, for one thing,” added Philip.

“Harry,” said Philip, after a pause, “what have you got on those big boots for; do you expect to wade ashore?”

“I’m breaking ’em in.”