Wednesday Dec. 10: Travellled all day over the plains of Nebraska and Wyoming. At dusk there are high mountains ahead. We are nearing the Rockies. Quite a lot of snow on the ground on most of the country we have passed over today. Nebraska looks like rich country; the kind that makes a nation strong. Full of corn and meat. They grow corn to fatten cattle. The cattle, all Herefords and Black Angus, stand around in groups in the snow. They are fed hay and grain. Every farm and ranch has its hay stacks; some of the hay is still in shocks in the fields, where it will be covered with snow if not brought in soon. The corn is stored in silos, and on the car in cribs in the open. Whatever is done about feeding Europe this winter, American should not starve. I have talked to several people on the train, including soldiers and the Pullman conductor, and it seems that to these ordinary Americans it does not matter much whether Europe starves or not. All, however, are interested in the opinion of others on the possibility of war with Russia. They themselves don't know what to think. Their thinking is confused and detached. They are fatalistic about it all. It is someone else's business. There are a number of European refugees, or immigrants, on this train. The little, be-shawled women look very much like strangers. Some of the migrants are undoubtedly Jews. One brash lad of about 13 years, who sat talking broken English in the club car last night, seemed to be a French Jew. The conductor is critical. He says many migrants are crossing the country. Also, he is sure that if this goes on there will soon be no place for blue-bellied Americans, unless some are saved for museums. This morning at breakfast I got well and truly robbed by the Southern Pacific Railroad. A damned lot of thieves. I ordered half grapefruit, plain omelette, toast and coffee, priced table d'hote at $1.35. That is about what other railroads are charging in these days of boom to bust. Put on top of that I was charged 30 cents for a dab of marmalade to eat with the last of my toast. The steward was polite but firm about it. He pointed out the price, listed in a corner of the menu. He was not responsible for the hold-up, of course. I have written the company, protesting the gouge. It will be interesting to see what sort of reply I get, if any. Thursday Dec. 11. Woke at grey dawn, and sliding up my window blind, found we were snaking through a pass in the Rockies, west of the border of Utah and Nevada. Nothing but bare black rocks and soft white snow. By breakfast time we were down in intermontane valley between the Rockies and the Sierras. This is high country, and not much better than desert. No trees in the valley, and very few small scattered ones on the mountains which rise from its surface. No grass. Only a low bushy vegetation (perhaps low sagebrush) browned by cold. Hereford cattle are bred here, and the steers no doubt sent to the corn belt for fattening. Small mines here and there; some of them abandoned. Little, drab, unpainted villages with trees growing in them. The trees bare and not a tinge of green anywhere. Poor, cold country, it looks to me. We stopped at Reno. I did not see it. Must have been reading. We lost there a drizzling, mink-coated female who had attracted much attention on the train. After Reno came the Sierras. Magnificent scenery of snowy high peaks, tall coniferous forests, and not much else. Men have not spoiled this country. I tried hard to get photographs, but where the views were best the train ran under wooden shelters which protected the tracks from falling snow and rocks, and through short tunnels. Still, I think I got pictures to remember it by.