their fore paws up; they are very quick, and most difficult even to shoot.  More antelopes and coyotes.  At a station called Alpine were several cowboys, all armed with revolvers and cartridge belts, and some with dagger knives too; their mustangs were hitched up close by.  These cowboys are some old and some young men, some wild and some cultivated, some never educated, some have gone through Harvard, or Oxford, or Cambridge, some the sons of English county gentlemen and noblemen—­but all cowboys, i.e., men who live on ranches where large herds of cattle or horses are bred, and whose duty it is to ride over the wild rough country to know where the herds of cattle and horses are feeding, so that if they need to be ridden up for cutting or branding, or selling, they may be found.  I was told that this was one of the “hardest” places for a cowboy, i.e., one of the wickedest, meaning that when they visit it, it is for a “spree,” and they get drunk, and fights and murders follow.  I was pointed to a little cemetery on a hill, enclosed by a white fence, and was told that it contained 150 bodies, and that only 50 had died a natural death; the others had been shot or otherwise murdered in drunken frays and other ways.  Many strange little histories were told me about these men, but which I have no time to record here.  In some parts of the country where water was very scarce, there seemed to be no vegetation, and the cattle seemed to wander solitarily along, a mere heap of hide and bone.  At many stations I had quite a considerable interval for running about, such as when a wheel caught fire, which happened two or three times, or some freight had to be taken in, or taken out, etc.  When the train again starts, the conductors shout “All aboard,” and there is a general rush.

The next day (December 20th) was again a brilliant day of sunshine; we see many buzzards, and breakfast at San Antonio.  The railway stations along this country have two roofs, one being two or three feet above the other, so that air between should keep the building cool.  At breakfast, I read the San Antonio Daily Express, which informed me “severe storms prevailed everywhere in Great Britain,” and my thoughts were naturally much occupied with the Old Country.  The day was sultry, but sunshine is always a great treat to me, and it was never too hot.

Now we are running into civilization again, and I catch sight of a man ploughing; he has a pair of mules, and is holding the reins in his teeth.  As we proceed, it is a continuous succession of cotton fields, cotton fields, cotton fields.  We see many bales; these weigh from 475 to 600 lbs. each.  At a station called Sequin, I obtained lots of cotton seeds, and gathered some cotton in the fields as we went along.  The scavengers of this country are Turkey buzzards, which are protected by law because of their usefulness.