It was a day's ride by rail to Rolla, the terminus of the Southwest Branch of the Pacific road.

I well recollect the strange and motley group that filled the cars on that journey.
There were a few officers and soldiers _en route_ to join their comrades in the field.

Nearly all of them were fresh from civil life.
They wore their uniforms uneasily, as a farmer's boy wears his Sunday suit.

Those who carried sabers experienced much inconvenience when walking, on account of the propensity of those weapons to get between their legs.

In citizen's dress, at my side, sat an officer of the old army, who looked upon these newly-made warriors with much contempt, mingled with an admiration of their earnestness.