2 I came on the railroad to New Orleans, and from there went on a steamboat, called the Texas, up Red River to Shreveport. Then, I came from Shreveport over the Texas and Pacific railroad to Hallsville, which was as far as the railroad went at that time. I took the stage from there to Dallas, and intended to go to Hillsboro, but I got so sick the stage driver[md;]he was a clever fellow[md;]put me in a hotel at a little town about sixteen miles this side of Dallas. A cousin of mine was with me. I was nearly dead, it seemed to me. The man who ran the hotel, which was a big double log house with an open passage between the rooms, came to me and asked me if I hadn't been in New Orleans. I said, “yes”. He said, “Now, young man, I want you to tell me the truth about yourself. My other place that I left when I came over here is a good house, and I can put you over there till you are able to go on. There is yellow fever at New Orleans. Do you think you've got it?” I says, “There was yellow fever there, but I didn't see any of it. All that's the matter with me is that I've got a chronic case of chills and fever.” He took care of me five days, until I was able to leave, and didn't charge me a cent, and was as good to me as he could be. That's the kind of people there were in those days. They wouldn't [se?] anybody suffer or go hungry if they could help it. I went on to Hillsboro and then over here by stage.
“I freighted to [Bremond?]. I had six yoke of oxen. There were two roads between here and [Bremond?], and as long as you were in the right road you were all right, but if you got in the wrong one and [met?] somebody you had to get out of the road and let him by. It was a pretty good job to get an Ox-wagon out of the road as the ruts were deep. One trip, coming back from [Bremond?], I met a fellow with a mule-team and wagon. We stopped right up against each other. He told me to get out of the road, but I was in the right track. I told him, no, I wouldn't get out, that he was in the wrong