Over the U.P.R.R. from North Platte to Omaha and Lincoln. — A description of the great Platte Valley.

I felt rather lonely after I had bid good-bye to my friends, but a depot is no place to stop and think, so I straightway attended to putting some unnecessary baggage in the care of the baggage-master until I returned, who said: "Just passed a resolution to-day to charge storage on baggage that is left over, but if you will allow me to remove the check, I will care for it without charge." One little act of kindness shown me already.

At the U.P. depot I introduced myself to Mr. Jay Reynolds, ticket agent, who held letters for me, and my ticket over the U.P. road, which brother had secured and left in his care. He greeted me with: "Am glad to know you are safe, Miss Fulton, your brother was disappointed at not meeting you here, and telegraphed but could get no answer. Feared you had gone to Valentine and been shot."

"Am sorry to have caused him so much uneasiness," I replied, "but the telegram came to Stuart when I was out at the location, and so could not let him hear from me, which is one of the disadvantages of colonizing on the frontier."

"Your brother said he would direct your letters in my care, and I have been inquiring for you—but you must stop on your return and see the beauties of Fremont. Mrs. Reynolds will be glad to meet you."

Well, I thought, more friends to make the way pleasant, and as it was not yet train time, I went to the post-office. The streets were thronged with people observing Decoration day. It was a real treat to see the blooming flowers and green lawns of the "Forest City;" I was almost tempted to pluck a snow-ball from a bush in the railroad garden. I certainly was carried past greener fields as the train bounded westward along the Platte valley, than I had seen north on the Elkhorn.

The Platte river is a broad, shallow stream, with low banks, and barren of everything but sand. Now we are close to its banks, and again it is lost in the distance. The valley is very wide; all the land occupied and much under cultivation.

I viewed the setting sun through the spray of a fountain in the railroad garden at Grand Island, tinging every drop of water with its amber light, making it a beautiful sight.

Grand Island is one of the prettiest places along the way, named from an island in the river forty miles long and from one to three miles wide. I was anxious to see Kearney, but darkness settled down and hindered all further sight-seeing.

The coach was crowded, and one poor old gentleman was "confidenced" out of sixty dollars, which made him almost sick, but his wife declares, "It is just good for him—no business to let the man get his hand on his money!"

"I will turn your seats for you, ladies, as soon as we have room," the conductor says; but the lady going to Cheyenne, who shares my seat, assisted, and we turn our seats without help, and I, thinking of the old gentleman's experience, lie on my pocket, and put my gloves on to protect my ring from sliding off, and sleep until two o'clock, when the conductor wakes me with, "Almost at North Platte, Miss."

I had written Miss Arta Cody to meet me, but did not know the hour would be so unreasonable. I scarcely expected to find her at the depot, but there she was standing in the chilly night air, ready to welcome me with, "I am so glad you have come, Frances!"

We had never met before, but had grown quite familiar through our letters, and it was pleasant to be received with the same familiarity and not as a stranger. We were quickly driven to her home, and found Mrs. Cody waiting to greet me.

To tell you of all the pleasures of my visit at the home of "Buffalo Bill," and of the trophies he has gathered from the hunt, chase, and trail, and seeing and hearing much that was interesting, and gleaning much of the real life of the noted western scout from Mrs. C., whom we found to be a lady of refinement and pleasing manners, would make a long story. Their beautiful home is nicely situated one-half mile from the suburbs of North Platte. The family consists of three daughters: Arta, the eldest is a true brunette, with clear, dark complexion, black hair, perfect features, and eyes that are beyond description in color and expression, and which sparkle with the girlish life of the sweet teens. Her education has by no means been neglected, but instead is taking a thorough course in boarding school. Orra, a very pleasant but delicate child of eleven summers, with her father's finely cut features and his generous big-heartedness; and wee babe Irma, the cherished pet of all. Their only son, Kit Carson, died young.

It is not often we meet mother, daughters, and sisters so affectionate as are Mrs. C, Arta, and Orra. Mr. Cody's life is not a home life, and the mother and daughters cling to each other, trying to fill the void the husband and father's almost constant absence makes. He has amassed enough of this world's wealth and comfort to quietly enjoy life with his family. But a quiet life would be so contrary to the life he has always known, that it could be no enjoyment to him.

To show how from his early boyhood, he drifted into the life of the "wild west," and which has become second nature to him, I quote the following from "The Life of Buffalo Bill."

His father, Isaac Cody, was one of the original surveyors of Davenport, Iowa, and for several years drove stage between Chicago and Davenport. Was also justice of the peace, and served one term in the legislature from Iowa. Removed to Kansas in 1852, and established a trading post at Salt Creek Valley, near the Kickapoo Agency. At this time Kansas was occupied by numerous tribes of Indians who were settled on reservations, and through the territory ran the great highway to California and Salt Lake City, traveled by thousands of gold-seekers and Mormons.

Living so near the Indians, "Billy" soon became acquainted with their language, and joined them in their sport, learning to throw the lance and shoot with bow and arrow.

In 1854 his father spoke in public in favor of the Enabling Act, that had just passed, and was twice stabbed in the breast by a pro-slavery man, and by this class his life was constantly threatened; and made a burden from ill health caused by the wounds, until in '57, when he died. After the mother and children all alone had prepared the body for burial, in the loft of their log cabin at Valley Falls, a party of armed men came to take the life that had just gone out.

Billy, their only living son, was their mainstay and support, doing service as a herder, and giving his earnings to his mother. The first blood he brought was in a quarrel over a little school-girl sweet-heart, during the only term of school he ever attended, and thinking he had almost killed his little boy adversary, he fled, and took refuge in a freight wagon going to Fort Kearney, which took him from home for forty days, and then returned to find he was freely forgiven for the slight wound he had inflicted. Later he entered the employ of the great freighters, Russell, Majors & Waddell, his duty being to help with a large drove of beef cattle going to Salt Lake City to supply Gen. A. S. Johnson's army, then operating against the Mormons, who at that time were so bitter that they employed the help of the Indians to massacre over-land freighters and emigrants. The great freighting business of this firm was done in wagons carrying a capacity of 7,000 pounds, and drawn by from eight to ten teams of oxen. A train consisted of twenty-five wagons. We must remember this was before a railroad spanned the continent, and was the only means of transportation beyond the states.

It was on his first trip as freight boy that Billy Cody killed his first Indian. When just beyond old Ft. Kearney they were surprised by a party of Indians, and the three night herders while rounding up the cattle, were killed. The rest of the party retreated after killing several braves, and when near Plum Creek, Billy became separated from the rest, and seeing an Indian peering at him over the bluffs of the creek, took aim and brought to the dust his first Indian. This "first shot" won for him a name and notoriety enjoyed by none nearly so young as he, and filled him with ambition and daring for the life he has since led. Progressing from freight boy to pony express rider, stage driver, hunter, trapper, and Indian scout in behalf of the government, which office he filled well and was one of the best, if not the very best, scouts of the plains; was married in March, '65, to Miss Louisa Fredrica, of French descent, of St. Louis; was elected to legislature in 1871, but the place was filled by another while he continued his exhibitions on the stage.

When any one is at loss for a name for anything they wish to speak of, they just call it buffalo —— and as a consequence, there are buffalo gnats, buffalo birds, buffalo fish, buffalo beans, peas, berries, moss, grass, burrs, and "Buffalo Bill," a title given to William Cody, when he furnished buffalo meat for the U.P.R.R. builders and hunted with the Grand Duke Alexis, and has killed as high as sixty-nine in one day.

I did not at the time of visiting North Platte think of writing up the country so generally, so did not make extra exertions to see and learn of the country as I should have done. And as there was a shower almost every afternoon of my stay, we did not get to drive out as Miss Arta and I had planned to do. North Platte, the county-seat of Lincoln county, is located 291 miles west of Omaha, and is 2,789 feet above the sea level, between and near the junction of the North and South Platte rivers. The U.P.R.R. was finished to this point first of December, 1866, and at Christmas time there were twenty buildings erected on the town site. Before the advent of the railroad, when all provisions had to be freighted, one poor meal cost from one to two dollars.

North Platte is now nicely built up with good homes and business houses, and rapidly improving in every way. The United States Land office of the western district embraces the government land of Cheyenne, Keith, Lincoln, a part of Dawson, Frontier, Gosper, and Custer counties and all unorganized territory. All I can see of the surrounding country is very level and is used for grazing land, as stock raising is the principal occupation of the people. Alkali is quite visible on the surface, but Mrs. C. says both it and the sand are fast disappearing, and the rainfall increasing. No trees to be seen but those which have been cultivated.

Mrs. C. in speaking of the insatiable appetite and stealthy habits of the Indians, told of a dinner she had prepared at a great expense and painstaking for six officers of Ft. McPherson, whom Mr. C. had invited to share with him, and while she was receiving them at the front door six Indians entered at a rear door, surrounded the table, and without ceremony or carving knife, were devouring her nicely roasted chickens and highly enjoying the good things they had found when they were discovered, which was not until she led the way to the dining room, thinking with so much pride of the delicacies she had prepared, and how they would enjoy it.

"Well, the dinner was completely spoiled by the six uninvited guests, but while I cried with mortification, the officers laughed and enjoyed the joke."

Ft. McPherson was located eighteen miles east of North Platte, but was abandoned four years ago.

Notwithstanding their kindness and entertaining home I was anxious to be on the home way, and biding Mrs. C. and Arta good-bye at the depot, I left Monday evening for Plum Creek.

How little I thought when I kissed the dear child Orra good-bye, and whom I had already learned to love, that I would have the sad duty of adding a tribute to her memory. Together we took my last walk about their home, gathering pebbles from their gravel walks, flowers from the lawn and leaves from the trees, for me to carry away.

I left her a very happy child over the anticipation of a trip to the east where the family would join Mr. Cody for some time. I cannot do better than to quote from a letter received from the sorrow-stricken mother.

"Orra, my precious darling, that promised so fair, was called from us on the 24th of October, '83, and we carried her remains to Rochester, N. Y., and laid them by the side of her little brother, in a grave lined with evergreens and flowers. When we visited the sacred spot last summer, she said: 'Mamma, won't you lay me by brother's side when I die?' Oh, how soon we have had to grant her request! If it was not for the hope of heaven and again meeting there, my affliction would be more than I could bear, but I have consigned her to Him who gave my lovely child to me for these short years, and can say, 'Thy will be done.'"

Night traveling again debarred our seeing much that would have been interesting, but it was my most convenient train, and an elderly lady from Ft. Collins, Colorado, made the way pleasant by telling of how they had gone to Colorado from Iowa, four years ago, and now could not be induced to return. Lived at the foot of mountains that had never been without a snow-cap since she first saw them.

Arrived at Plum Creek about ten o'clock, and as I had no friends to meet me here, asked to be directed to a hotel, and remarked that we preferred a temperance hotel. "That's all the kind we keep here," the gentleman replied with an injured air, and I was shown to the Johnston House.

I had written to old friends and neighbors who had left Pennsylvania about a year ago, and located twenty-five miles south-west of Plum creek, to meet me here; but letters do not find their way out to the little sod post-offices very promptly, and as I waited their coming Tuesday, I spent the day in gathering of the early history of Plum Creek.

Through the kindness of Mrs. E. D. Johnston, we were introduced to Judge R. B. Pierce, who came from Maryland to Plum Creek, in April, 1873, and was soon after elected county judge, which office he still holds. He told how they had found no signs of a town but a station house, and lived in box-cars with a family of five children until he built a house, which was the first dwelling-house on the present town-site. One Daniel Freeman had located and platted a town-site one mile east, but the railroad company located the station just a mile further west.

Judge Pierce gave me a supplement of the Dawson County Pioneer, of date July 20th, 1876, from which I gather the following history:

"On June 26th, 1871, Gov. W. H. James issued a proclamation for the organization of the county. At the first election, held July 11, '71, at the store of D. Freeman, there were but thirteen votes cast, and the entire population of the county did not exceed forty souls, all told. But the Centennial Fourth found a population of 2,716 prosperous people, 614 of whom are residents of Plum Creek, which was incorporated March, 1874, and named for a creek a few miles east tributary to the Platte; and which in old staging days was an important point.

"The creek rises in a bluffy region and flows north-east, the bluffs affording good hiding places for the stealthy Indians.

"Among the improvements of the time is a bridge spanning the Platte river, three miles south of the town, the completion of which was celebrated July 4th, '73, and was the first river bridge west of Columbus.

"In '74 the court house was built. We will quote in full of the churches, to show that those who go west do not always leave their religion behind. As early as 1867, the Rev. Father Ryan, of the Catholic church, held services at the old station house. In the fall of '72, Rev. W. Wilson organized the first Methodist society in the county, with a membership of about thirty. In April, '74, Right Rev. Bishop Clarkson organized Plum Creek parish, and a church was built in '75, which was the first church built in the town. In '74 the Missionary Baptist Society was formed. In '73 the Presbyterian congregation was organized by Rev. S. M. Robinson, state missionary.

"Settlements in Plum Creek precinct were like angels' visits, few and far between, until April 9th, 1872, when the Philadelphia Nebraska colony arrived, having left Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, April 2d, under charge of F. J. Pearson.

"In this colony there were sixty-five men, women, and children. Their first habitation was four boxcars, kindly placed on a side track by the U.P.R.R. Co. for their use until they could build their houses."

I met one of these colonists, B. F. Krier, editor Pioneer, whom I questioned as to their prosperity. He said: "Those who remained have done well, but some returned, and others have wandered, farther west, until there is not many of us left; only about eight families that are now residents of the town. We were so completely eaten out by the grasshoppers in '73-74, and in 78 there was a drought, and it was very discouraging."

I thought of the sixty-five colonists who had just landed and drove their stakes in the soil of northern Nebraska, and hoped they may be driven deep and firm, and their trials be less severe.

"The Union Pacific windmill was their only guide to lead them over the treeless, stoneless, trackless prairie, and served the purpose of light-house to many a prairie-bewildered traveler. A few days after they landed, they had an Indian scare. But the seven Sioux, whose mission was supposed to be that of looking after horses to steal, seeing they were prepared for them, turned and rode off. Six miles west of Plum Creek in 1867, the Indians wrecked a freight train, in which two men were killed, and two escaped; one minus a scalp, but still living."

Mrs. E. D. Johnston told of how they came in 1873, and opened a hotel in a 16×20 shanty, with a sod kitchen attached; and how the cattle men, who were their principal stoppers, slept on boxes and in any way they could, while they enlarged their hotel at different times until it is now the Johnston House, the largest and best hotel in Plum Creek.

While interviewing Judge Pierce, a man entered the office, to transact some business, and as he left, the Judge remarked—

"That man came to me to be married about a year ago, and I asked him how old the lady was he wished to marry. 'Just fifteen,' he answered. I can't grant you a license, then; you will have to wait a year. 'Wait?' No; he got a buggy, drove post-haste down into Kansas, and was married. He lives near your friends, and if you wish I will see if he can take you out with him." So, through his help, I took passage in Mr. John Anderson's wagon, Wednesday noon, along with his young wife, and a family just from Luzerne county, Pennsylvania.

The wind was strong and the sun warm, but I was eager to improve even this opportunity to get to my friends.

Going south-east from Plum Creek, we pass over land that is quite white with alkali, but beyond the river there is little surface indication of it. For the novelty of crossing the Platte river on foot, I walked the bridge, one mile in length, and when almost across met Mr. Joseph Butterbaugh—our old neighbor—coming to town, and who was greatly surprised, as they had not received my letter.

We had not gone far until our faces were burning with the hot wind and sun, and for a protection we tied our handkerchiefs across our faces, just below our eyes. The load was heavy, and we went slowly west along the green valley, the river away to our right, and a range of bluffs to our left, which increase in height as we go westward. Passed finely improved homes that had been taken by the first settlers, and others where the new beginners yet lived in their "brown stone fronts" (sod houses).

Four years ago this valley was occupied by Texas cattle, 3,000 in one herd, making it dangerous for travelers.

Stopped for a drink at a large and very neat story and a-half sod house built with an L; shingled roof, and walls as smooth and white as any lathed and plastered walls, and can be papered as well. Sod houses are built right on the top of the ground, without the digging or building of a foundation. The sod is plowed and cut the desired size, and then built the same as brick, placing the grassy side down. The heat of the summer can hardly penetrate the thick walls, and, too, they prove a good protection from the cold winds of winter. Sod corrals are used for sheep.

Almost every family have their "western post-office:" a little box nailed to a post near the road, where the mail carrier deposits and receives the mail.

Now for many miles west the government land is taken, and the railroad land bought. Much of the land is cultivated and the rest used for pasture. The corn is just peeping through the sod.

Passed two school houses, one a sod, and the other an 8×10 frame, where the teacher received twenty-five dollars per month. It is also used for holding preaching, Sunday School, and society meetings in.

It is twenty miles to Mr. Anderson's home, and it is now dark; but the stars creep out from the ether blue, and the new moon looks down upon us lonely travelers. "Oh, moon, before you have waned, may I be safe in my own native land!" I wished, when I first saw its golden crest. I know dear mother will be wishing the same for me, and involuntarily sang:

I could not say "no more." To chase sadness away I sang, and was joined by Mr. A., who was familiar with the songs of the old "Key Note," and together we sang many of the dear old familiar pieces. But none could I sing with more emphasis than—

But I struck the key note of his heart when I sang, "There's a light in the window for thee," in which he joined at first, but stopped, saying:

"I can't sing that; 'twas the last song I sung with my brothers and sisters the night before I left my Kentucky home, nine years ago, and I don't think I have tried to sing it since."

All along the valley faint lights glimmered from lonely little homes. I thought every cottager should have an Alpine horn, and as the sun goes down, a "good night" shouted from east to west along the valley, until it echoed from bluff to bluff.

But the longest journey must have an end, and at last we halted at Mr. A.'s door, too late for me to go farther. But was off early in the morning on horseback, with Zeke Butterbaugh, who was herding for Mr. A., to take his mother by surprise, and breakfast with her.

Well, reader, I would not ask anyone, even my worst enemy, to go with me on that morning ride.

Rough?

There now, don't say anything more about it. It is good to forget some things; I can feel the top of my head flying off yet with every jolt, as that horse tried to trot—perhaps it was my poke hat that was coming off. If the poor animal had had a shoe on, I would have quoted Mark Twain, hung my hat on its ear and looked for a nail in its foot.

When we reached Mrs. B.'s home, we found it deserted, and we had to go three miles farther on. Six miles before breakfast.

"Now, Zeke, we will go direct; take straight across and I will follow: mind, we don't want to be going round many corners."

"Well, watch, or your horse will tramp in a gopher hole and throw you; can you stand another trot?"

And I would switch my trotter, but would soon have to rein him up, and laugh at my attempt at riding.

It was not long until we were within sight of the house where Zeke's sister lived, and when within hearing distance we ordered—"Breakfast for two!" When near the house we concentrated all our equestrian skill into a "grand gallop."

Mrs. B. and Lydia were watching and wondering who was coming; but my laugh betrayed me, and when we drew reins on our noble ponies at the door, I was received with: "I just knew that was Pet Fulton by the laugh;" and as I slipped down, right into their arms, I thought after all the ride was well worth the taking, and the morning a grand one. Rising before the sun, I watched its coming, and the mirage on the river, showing distinctly the river, islands, and towns; but all faded away as the mirage died out, and then the ride over the green prairie, bright with flowers, and at eight o'clock breakfasting with old friends.

We swung around the circle of Indiana county friends, the Butterbaughs and Fairbanks, until Monday. Must say I enjoyed the swing very much. Took a long ramble over the bluffs that range east and west, a half mile south of Mr. J. B.'s home. Climbed bluff after bluff, only to come to a jumping off place of from 50 to 100 feet straight down. To peer over these places required a good deal of nerve, but I held tight to the grass or a soap weed stalk, and looked. We climbed to the top of one of the highest, from which we could see across the valley to the Platte river three miles away—the river a mile in width, and the wide valley beyond, to the bluffs that range along its northern bounds. The U.P.R.R. runs on the north side of the river, and Mr. B. says the trains can be seen for forty miles. Plum Creek, twenty miles to the east, is in plain view, the buildings quite distinguishable. Then comes Cozad, Willow Island—almost opposite, and Gothenburg, where the first house was built last February, and now has about twenty. I would add the following from a letter received Dec. 21, '83:

Gothenburg has now 40 good buildings, and in the county where but five families lived in the spring of '82, now are 300, and that number is to be more than doubled by spring.

But to the bluffs again. To the south, east, and west, it is wave after wave of bluffs covered with buffalo grass; not a tree or bush in sight until we get down into the canyons, which wind around among the hills and bluffs like a grassy stream, without a drop of water, stone or pebble; now it is only a brook in width, now a creek, and almost a river. The pockets that line the canyons are like great chambers, and are of every size, shape and height. A clay like soil they call calcine, in strata from white to reddish brown, forms their walls. They seemed like excellent homes for wild cats, and as we were only armed with a sunflower stalk which we used for a staff (how Æsthetic we have grown since coming west!) we did not care to prospect—would much rather look at the deer tracks.

The timber in the canyons are ash, elm, hackberry, box elder, and cottonwood, but Mr. B. has to go fifteen miles for wood as it is all taken near him. Wild plums, choke cherries, currants, mountain cranberries, and snow berries grow in wild profusion, and are overrun with grape-vines.

Found a very pretty pincushion cactus in bloom, and I thought to bring it home to transplant; but cactus are not "fine" for bouquets nor fragrant; and if they were, who would risk a smell at a cactus flower? But I did think I would like a prairie dog for a pet, and a full grown doggie was caught and boxed for me. Had a great mind to attempt bringing a jack rabbit also, and open up a Nebraska menagerie when I returned. Jack rabbits are larger than the common rabbits and very deceitful, and if shot at will pretend they are hurt, even if not touched. A hunter from the east shot at one, and seeing it hop off so lame, threw down his gun and ran to catch it—well, he didn't catch the rabbit, and spent two days in searching before he found his gun.

Sunday. We attended Sabbath school in the sod school house, and Monday morning early were off on the long ride back to Plum creek with Mr. and Mrs. H. Fairbanks and Miss Laura F. We picnicked at dinner time. Under a shade tree? No, indeed; not a tree to be seen—only a few willows on the islands in the river, showing that where it is protected from fires, timber will grow. But in a few years this valley will be a garden of cultivated timber and fields. I must speak of the brightest flower that is blooming on it now; 'tis the buffalo pea, with blossoms same as our flowering pea, in shape, color, and fragrance, but it is not a climber. How could it be, unless it twined round a grass stalk?

The Platte valley is from six to fifteen miles wide, but much the widest part of the valley is north of the river. The bluffs on the north are rolling, and on the south abrupt. In the little stretch of the valley that I have seen, there is no sand worthy of notice. Water is obtained at from twenty to fifty feet on the valley, but on the table-land at a much greater depth. Before we reached the bridge, we heard it was broken down, and no one could cross. "Cannot we ford it?" I asked. "No, the quicksand makes it dangerous." "Can we cross on a boat, then?" "A boat would soon stick on a sand bar. No way of crossing if the bridge is down." But we found the bridge so tied together that pedestrians could cross. As I stooped to dip my hand in the muddy waves of the Platte I thought it was little to be admired but for its width, and the few green islands. The banks are low, and destitute of everything but grass.

The Platte river is about 1,200 miles long. It is formed by the uniting of the South Platte that rises in Colorado, and the North Platte that rises in Wyoming. Running east through Nebraska, it divides into the North and South Platte. About two-thirds of the state being on the north. It finds an outlet in the Missouri river at Plattsmouth, Neb. It has a fall of about 5 feet to the mile, and is broad, shallow, and rapid—running over a great bed of sand that is constantly washing and changing, and so mingled with the waters that it robs it of its brightness. Its shallowness is thought to be owing to a system of under ground drainage through a bed of sand, and supplies the Republican river in the southern part of the state, which is 352 feet lower than the Platte.

We were fortunate in securing a hack for the remaining three miles of our journey, and ten o'clock found me waiting for the eastern bound train. I would add that Plum Creek now has a population of 600. I have described Dawson county more fully as it was in Central Nebraska our colony first thought of locating, and a number of them have bought large tracts of land in the south-western part of the county. That the Platte valley is very fertile is beyond a doubt. It is useless to give depth of soil and its production, but will add the following:

Mr. Joseph Butterbaugh reports for his harvest of 1883, 778 bushels wheat from 35 acres. Corn averaged 35 bushels, shelled; oats 25 to 30; and barley about 40 bushels per acre.

First frost was on the 9th of October. Winter generally begins last of December, and ends with February. The hottest day of last summer was 108 degrees in the shade. January 1, 1884, it was 8 degrees below, which is the lowest it has yet (January 15) fallen, and has been as high as 36 above since.

The next point of interest on the road is Kearney, where the B. & M.R.R. forms a junction with the U.P.R.R.

In looking over the early history of Buffalo county we find it much the same, except in dates a little earlier than that of Dawson county. First settlers in the county were Mormons, in 1858, but all left in '63. The county was not organized until in '70, and the first tax list shows but thirty-eight names. Kearney, the county-seat, is on the north side of the river 200 miles west and little south of Omaha, and 160 miles west of Lincoln. Lots in Kearney was first offered for sale in '72, but the town was not properly organized until in '73. Since that time its growth has been rapid; building on a solid foundation and bringing its churches and schools with it, and now has under good way a canal to utilize the waters of the Platte.

Fremont the "Forest City," is truly so named from the many trees that hide much of the city from view, large heavy bodied trees of poplar, maple, box elder, and many others that have been cultivated. Fremont, named in honor of General Fremont and his great overland tour in 1842 and, was platted in 1855 on lands which the Pawnee Indians had claimed but which had been bought from them, receiving $20,000 in gold and silver and $20,000 in goods. In '56 Mr. S. Turner swam the Platte river and towed the logs across that built the old stage house which his mother Mrs. Margaret Turner kept, but which has given way to the large and commodious "New York Hotel." The 4th of July, '56, was celebrated at Fremont by about one hundred whites and a multitude of Indians; but now it can boast of over 5,000 inhabitants, fine schools and churches. It is the junction of the U.P.R.R. and the S.C. & P.R.R. I must add that it was the only place of all that I visited where I found any sickness, and that was on the decrease, but diphtheria had been bad for some time, owing, some thought, to the use of water obtained too near the surface, and the many shade trees, as some of the houses are entirely obscured from the direct rays of the sun.

I will not attempt to touch on the country as we neared Omaha along the way, as it is all improved lands, and I do not like its appearance as well as much of the unimproved land I have seen. We reached Omaha about seven o'clock. I took a carriage for the Millard hotel and had breakfast. At the request of my brother I called on Mr. Leavitt Burnham, who has held the office of Land Commissioner of the U.P.R.R. land company since 1878, and fills it honestly and well.

Omaha, the "Grand Gateway of the West," was named for the Omaha Indians, who were the original landholders, but with whom a treaty was made in 1853. William D. Brown, who for two or three years had been ferrying the "Pike's Peak or bust" gold hunters from Iowa to Nebraska shores, and "busted" from Nebraska to Iowa, in disgust entered the present site of Omaha, then known as the Lone Tree Ferry, as a homestead in the same year. In the next year the city of Omaha was founded. The "General Marion" was the first ferry steamer that plied across the Missouri at this point, for not until in '68 was the bridge completed. All honor to the name of Harrison Johnston, who plowed the first furrow of which there is any record, paying the Indians ten dollars for the permit. He also built the first frame house in Omaha, and which is yet standing near the old Capitol on Capitol Hill.

The first religious services held in Omaha were under an arbor erected for the first celebration of the Fourth of July, by Rev. I. Heaton, Congregationalist. Council Bluffs, just opposite Omaha, on the Iowa shore, was, in the early days, used as a "camping ground" by the Mormons, where they gathered until a sufficient number was ready to make a train and take up the line of march over the then great barren plains of Nebraska. Omaha is situated on a plateau, over fifty feet above the river, which is navigable for steamers only at high water tides. It is 500 miles from Chicago, and 280 miles north of St. Louis. It was the capital of Nebraska until it was made a state. What Omaha now is would be vain for me to attempt to tell. That it is Nebraska's principal city, with 40,000 inhabitants, is all-sufficient.

I had written my friends living near Lincoln to meet me on Monday, and as this was Tuesday there was no one to meet me when I reached Lincoln, about four o'clock. Giving my baggage in charge of the baggage-master, and asking him to take good care of my doggie, I asked to be directed to a hotel, and left word where my friends would find me. The Arlington House was crowded, and then I grew determined to in some way reach my friends. Had I known where they lived I could have employed a liveryman to take me to them. I knew they lived four miles west of Lincoln, and that was all. Well, I thought, there cannot be many homoeopathic physicians in Lincoln, and one of them will surely know where Gardners live, for their doctor was often called when living in Pennsylvania. But a better thought came—that of the Baptist minister, as they attended that church. I told the clerk at the hotel my dilemma, and through his kindness I learned where the minister lived, whom, after a long walk, I found. "I am sorry I have no way of taking you to your friends, but as it is late we would be glad to have you stop with us to-night, and we will find a way to-morrow." I thankfully declined his kind offer, and he then directed me to Deacon Keefer's, where Cousin Gertrude made her home while attending school. After another rather long walk, tired and bewildered, I made inquiry of a gentleman I met. "Keefer? Do they keep a boarding-house?" "I believe so." "Ah, well, if you will follow me I will show you right to the house." Another mile walk, and it wasn't the right Keefer's; but they searched the City Directory, and found that I had to more than retrace my steps. "Since I have taken you so far out of your way, Miss, I will help you to find the right place," and at last swung open the right gate; and as I stood waiting an answer to my ring, I thought I had seen about all of Lincoln in my walking up and down—at least all I cared to. But the welcome "Trude's Cousin Pet" received from the Keefer family, added to the kindness others had shown me, robbed my discomfiture of much of its unpleasantness. Soon another plate was added to the tea-table, and I was seated drinking iced-tea and eating strawberries from their own garden, as though I was an old friend, instead of a straggling stranger. Through it all I learned a lesson of kindness that nothing but experience could have taught me. After tea Mr. Ed and Miss Marcia Keefer drove me out to my friends, and as I told them how I thought of finding them through the doctors, Cousin Maggie said: "Well, my girlie, you would have failed in that, for in the four years we have lived in Nebraska we have never had to employ a doctor."

And, reader, now "let's take a rest," but wish to add before closing this chapter, that the U.P.R.R. was the first road built in Nebraska. Ground was broken at Omaha, December 2, 1863, but '65 found only forty miles of track laid. The road reached Julesburg, now Denver Junction, in June, '67, and the "golden spike" driven May 10, 1869, which connected the Union Pacific with the Central Pacific railroad, and was the first railroad that spanned the continent. The present mileage is 4,652 miles, and several hundred miles is in course of construction. J. W. Morse, of Omaha, is general passenger agent. The lands the company yet have for sale are in Custer, Lincoln, and Cheyenne counties, where some government land is yet to be had.

A colony, known as the "Ex-Soldiers' Colony," was formed in Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1883. It accepted members from everywhere, and now April 24, '84, shows a roll of over two hundred members, many of whom have gone to the location, forty miles north-east of North Platte, in unorganized territory, and near the Loup river. Six hundred and forty acres were platted into a town site in spring of '84, and named Logan, in honor of Gen. John A. Logan. Quite a number are already occupying their town lots, and building permanent homes, and most of the land within reach has been claimed by the colonists. The land is all government land, of which about one-half is good farming land, and rest fit only for grazing.

This is only one of the many colonies that have been planted on Nebraska soil thus early in '84, but is one that will be watched with much interest, composed as it is of the good old "boys in blue."