NEBRASKA AND HER CAPITAL.

Nebraska is so named from the Nebraska, or Platte river. It is derived from the Indian ne (water) and bras (shallow), and means shallow water. In extent it is 425 miles from east to west, and 138 to 208 from north to south, and has an area of 75,995 square miles that lie between parallels 40° and 43° north latitude, and 18° and 27° west longitude.

The Omahas, Pawnees, Otoes, Sioux, and other Indian tribes were the original land-holders, and buffalo, elk, deer, and antelope the only herds that grazed from its great green pasture lands. But in 1854, "Uncle Sam" thought the grassy desert worthy of some notice, and made it a territory, and in 1867 adopted it as the 37th state, and chose for its motto "Equality before the Law."

The governors of Nebraska territory were:

• Francis Burt, 1854.
• T. B. Cuming, 1854-5.
• Mark W. Izard, 1855-8.
• W. A. Richardson, 1858.
• J. S. Morton, 1858-9.
• Samuel W. Black, 1859-61.
• Alvin Saunders, 1861-6.
• David Butler, 1866-7.

Of the state—

• David Butler, 1867-71.
• William H. James, 1871-3.
• Robert W. Furnas, 1873-5.
• Silas Garber, 1875-9.
• Albinus Nance, 1879-83.
• James W. Dawes, 1883.

Allow me to quote from the Centennial Gazetteer of United States:

"Surface.—Nebraska is a part of that vast plain which extends along the eastern base of the Rocky mountains, and gently slopes down toward the Missouri river. The surface is flat or gently undulating. There are no ranges or elevations in the state that might be termed mountains. The soil consists for the most part of a black and porous loam, which is slightly mixed with sand and lime. The streams now in deeply eroded valleys with broad alluvial flood grounds of the greatest fertility, which are generally well timbered with cottonwood, poplar, ash, and other deciduous trees. The uplands are undulating prairie. Late surveys establish the fact that the aggregate area of the bottom lands is from 13,000,000 to 14,000,000 of acres.

"The climate of Nebraska is on the whole similar to that of other states of the great Mississippi plains in the same latitude. The mean annual temperature varies from 47° in the northern sections to 57° in the most southern. But owing to greater elevation, the western part of the state is somewhat colder than the eastern. In winter the westerly winds sweeping down from the Rocky mountains, often depress the thermometer to 20° and sometimes 30° below zero; while in the summer a temperature of 100° and over is not unusual. In the southern tier of counties the mean temperature of the summer is 76¼°, and of winter, 30½°. The greatest amount of rain and snow fall (28 to 30 inches) falls in the Missouri valley, and thence westward the rainfall steadily decreases to 24 inches near Fort Kearney, 16 inches to the western counties, and 12 inches in the south-western corner of the state.

"Population.—Nebraska had in 1860 a population of 28,841, and in 1870, 122,993. Of these, 92,245 were natives of the United States, including 18,425 natives of the state. The foreign born population numbered 30,748.

"Education.—Nebraska has more organized schools, more school houses, and those of a superior character; more money invested in buildings, books, etc., than were ever had before in any state of the same age. The land endowed for the public schools embraces one-eighteenth of the entire area of the state—2,623,080 acres." The school lands are sold at not less than seven dollars per acre, which will yield a fund of not less than $15,000,000, and are leased at from six to ten per cent interest on a valuation of $1.25 to $10 per acre. The principal is invested in bonds, and held inviolate and undiminished while the interest and income alone is used.

The state is in a most excellent financial condition, and is abundantly supplied with schools, churches, colleges, and the various charitable and reformatory institutions. Every church is well represented in Nebraska. The Methodist stands first in numbers, while the Presbyterian, Baptist, and Congregational are of about equal strength. The Catholic church is fully represented.

The United States census for 1880 shows that Nebraska has the lowest percentage of illiteracy of any state in the Union. Iowa comes second. Allow me to compare Nebraska and Pennsylvania:

Nebraska, 1.73 per cent cannot read, 2.55 per cent cannot write; Pennsylvania, 3.41 per cent cannot read, 5.32 per cent cannot write. Total population of Nebraska, 452,402; Pennsylvania, 4,282,891.

Geographically, Nebraska is situated near the centre of the United States, and has an average altitude of 1,500 feet above the level of the sea, varying from 1,200 feet at the Missouri river to 2,000 feet at the Colorado state line. The climate of Nebraska is noted for its salubrity, its wholesomeness, and healthfulness. The dryness of the air, particularly in the winter, is the redeeming feature of the low temperature that is sometimes very suddenly brought about by strong, cold winds, yet the average temperature of the winter of 1882 was but 17°, and of the summer 70°.

I only wish to add that I have noticed that the western people in general have a much healthier and robust appearance than do eastern people.

Later statistics than the United States census of 1880 are not accessible for my present purpose, but the figures of that year—since which time there has been rapid developments—will speak volumes for the giant young state, the youngest but one in the Union.

The taxable values of Nebraska in 1880 amounted to $90,431,757, an increase of nearly forty per cent in ten years, being but $53,709,828 in 1870. During the same time its population had increased from 122,933 to 452,542, nearly four-fold.

The present population of Nebraska probably exceeds 600,000, and its capacity for supporting population is beyond all limits as yet. With a population as dense as Ohio, or seventy-five persons to the square mile, Nebraska would contain 5,700,000 souls. With as dense a population as Massachusetts, or 230 to the square mile, Nebraska would have 17,480,000 people.

The grain product of Nebraska had increased from 10,000 bushels in 1874 to 100,000 bushels in 1879, an average increase of 200 per cent per year. In 1883 there was raised in the state:

Mr. D. H. Wheeler, secretary of the state board of agriculture, has prepared the following summary of all crop reports received by him up to Nov. 13, 1883:

Grade of Spring wheat, No. 2. First frost, Oct. 5. Corn ready for market, Dec. 1.

In 1878 there were raised in the state 295,000 hogs, and in 1879 a total of 700,000, an increase of nearly 250 per cent. There are raised annually at the present time in Nebraska over 300,000 cattle and 250,000 sheep.

The high license liquor law was passed in Nebraska in 1883, requiring the paying of $1,000 for license to sell liquor in a town of 1,000 inhabitants or more, and $500 elsewhere, all of which is thrown into the common school fund and must be paid before a drink is sold. Liquor dealers and saloon keepers are responsible for all damages or harm done by or to those to whom they have sold liquor while under its influence.

During my stay of almost three months in the state, I saw but seven intoxicated men and I looked sharp and counted every one who showed the least signs of having been drinking. There are but few hotels in the state that keep a bar. I did not learn of one. Lincoln has 18,000 of a population and but twelve saloons. Drinking is not popular in Nebraska.

I will add section 1 of Nebraska's laws on the rights of married women.

"The property, real and personal, which any woman in this state may own at the time of her marriage, and the rents, issues, profits, or proceeds thereof, and any real, personal, or mixed property which shall come to her by descent, devise, or the gift of any person except her husband, or which she shall acquire by purchase or otherwise, shall remain her sole and separate property, notwithstanding her marriage, and shall not be subject to the disposal of her husband, or liable for his debts.

"The property of the husband shall not be liable for any debt contracted by the wife before marriage."

The overland pony express, which was the first regular mail transportation across the state, was started in 1860 and lasted two years. The distance from St. Joseph, Missouri, to San Francisco was about 2,000 miles and was run in thirteen days. The principal stations were St. Joseph and Marysville, Mo.; Ft. Kearney, Neb.; Laramie and Ft. Bridger, Wy. T.; Salt Lake, Utah; Camp Floyd and Carson City, Nev.; Placerville, Sacramento, and San Francisco, Cal. Express messengers left once a week with ten pounds of matter; salary $1,200 per month; carriage on one-fourth ounce was five dollars in gold. But in the two years the company's loss was $200,000. Election news was carried from St. Joseph, Mo., to Denver City, Col., a distance of 628 miles in sixty-nine hours. A telegraph line was erected in Nebraska, 1862; now Nebraska can boast of nearly 3,000 miles of railroad.

I want to say that I find it is the truly energetic and enterprising people who come west. People who have the energy and enterprise that enable them to leave the old home and endure the privations of a new country for a few years that they may live much better in the "after while," than they could hope to do in the old home, and are a people of ambition and true worth. The first lesson taught to those who come west by those who have gone before and know what it is to be strangers in a strange land, is true kindness and hospitality, and but few fail to learn it well and profit by it, and are ready to teach it by precept and example to those who follow. It is the same lesson our dear great-grandfathers and mothers learned when they helped to fell the forests and make a grand good state out of "Penn's Woods." But their children's children are forgetting it. Yet I find that Pennsylvania has furnished Nebraska with some of her best people. Would it not be a good idea for the Pennamites of Nebraska to each year hold Pennsylvania day, and every one who come from the dear old hills, meet and have a general hand-shaking and talk with old neighbors and friends. I know Nebraska could not but be proud of her Pennsylvanian children.

LINCOLN.

In 1867 an act was passed by the state legislature, then in session at Omaha, appointing a commission consisting of Gov. Butler, Secretary of State T. P. Kennard, and Auditor of State J. Gillespie to select and locate a new capital out on the frontier. After some search the present capital site was chosen—then a wild waste of grasses, where a few scattered settlers gathered at a log cabin to receive the mail that once a week was carried to them on horseback to the Lancaster post-office of Lancaster county. The site is 65 miles west of the Missouri river, and 1,114 feet above sea level, and on the "divide" between Antelope and Salt Creeks. 900 acres were platted into lots and broad streets, reserving ample ground for all necessary public buildings, and the new capital was named in honor of him for whom Columbia yet mourned. Previous to the founding of Lincoln by the state, a Methodist minister named Young had selected a part of the land, and founded a paper town and called it Lancaster.

The plan adopted for the locating of the capital of the new state was as follows: The capital should be located upon lands belonging to the state, and the money derived from the sale of the lots should build all the state buildings and institutions. After the selection by the commission there was a slight rush for town lots, but not until the summer of '68 was the new town placed under the auctioneer's hammer, which, however, was thrown down in disgust as the bidders were so few and timid. In 1869, Col. George B. Skinner conducted a three days' sale of lots, and in that time sold lots to the amount of $171,000. When he received his wages—$300—he remarked that he would not give his pay for the whole town site.

The building boom commenced at once, and early in '69 from 80 to 100 houses were built. The main part of the state house was begun in '67, but the first legislature did not meet at the new capitol until in January, '69. From the sale of odd numbered blocks a sufficient sum was realized to build the capitol building, costing $64,000, the State University, $152,000, and State Insane Asylum $137,500, and pay all other expenses and had left 300 lots unsold.

The State Penitentiary was built at a cost of $312,000 in 1876. The post-office, a very imposing building, was erected by the national government at a cost of $200,000, finished in '78. Twenty acres were reserved for the B. & M. depot. It is ground well occupied. The depot is a large brick building 183×53 and three stories high, with lunch room, ladies' and gents' waiting rooms nicely furnished, baggage room, and broad hall and stairway leading to the telegraph and land offices on the second and third floors. Ten trains arrive and depart daily carrying an aggregate of 1,400 passengers. The U.P. has ample railway accommodations.

All churches and benevolent societies that applied for reservation were given three lots each, subject to the approval of the legislature, which afterward confirmed the grant. A Congregational church was organized in 1866; German Methodist, '67; Methodist Episcopal and Roman Catholic, '68; Presbyterian, Episcopal, Baptist, and Christian, '69; Universalist, '70; African Methodist, '73, and Colored Baptist, '79. A number have since been added.

The State Journal Co. On the 15th of Aug., 1867, the day following the announcement that Lancaster was the place for the capital site there appeared in the Nebraska City Press a prospectus for the publication of a weekly newspaper in Lincoln, to be called the Nebraska Commonwealth, C. H. Gere, Editor. But not until the latter part of Nov. did it have an established office in the new city. In the spring of '69 the Commonwealth was changed to the Nebraska State Journal. As a daily it was first issued on the 20th of July, '70, the day the B. & M.R.R. ran its first train into Lincoln, and upset all the old stage coaches that had been the only means of transportation to the capital. In '82 the State Journal Co. moved into their handsome and spacious new building on the corner of P and 9th streets. It is built of stone and brick, four stories high, 75 feet on P and 143 on 9th streets. The officers are C. H. Gere, Pres.; A. H. Mendenhall, Vice Pres.; J. R. Clark, Sec., and H. D. Hathaway, Treas. The company employs 100 to 125 hands. Beside the Journal are the Democrat and News, daily; the Nebraska Farmer, semi-monthly; the Capital, weekly; the Hesperian Student, monthly, published by the students of the University, and the Staats Anzeiger, a German paper, issued weekly.

On my return from Milford, Wednesday, I sought and found No. 1203 G street, just in time to again take tea with the Keefer family, and spend the night with them, intending to go to Fremont next day. But Mrs. K. insisted that she would not allow me to slight the capital in that way, and to her I am indebted for much of my sight-seeing in and about Lincoln.

Thursday afternoon we went to the penitentiary to see a little of convict life. But the very little I saw made me wonder why any one who had once suffered imprisonment would be guilty of a second lawless act. Two negro convicts in striped uniforms were lounging on the steps ready to take charge of the carriages, for it was visitor's day. Only good behaved prisoners, whose terms have almost expired, are allowed to step beyond the iron bars and stone walls. We were taken around through all the departments—the kitchen, tailor shop, and laundry, and where brooms, trunks, harnesses, corn-shellers, and much that I cannot mention, are made. Then there was the foundry, blacksmith shop, and stone yard, where stones were being sawed and dressed ready for use at the capitol building. The long double row of 160 cells are so built of stone and cement that when once the door of iron bars closes upon a prisoner he has no chance of exit. They are 4×7 feet, and furnished with an iron bedstead, and one berth above; a stool, and a lap-board to write on. They are allowed to write letters every three weeks, but what they write is read before it is sent, and what they receive is read before it is given to them. There are 249 prisoners, a number of whom are from Wyoming. Their meals are given them as they pass to their cells. They were at one time seated at a table and given their meals together, but a disturbance arose among them and they used the knives and forks for weapons to fight with. And they carried them off secretly to their cells, and one almost succeeded in cutting his way through the wall. Only those who occupy the same cell can hold any conversation. Never a word is allowed to be exchanged outside the cells with each other. Thus silently, like a noiseless machine, with bowed heads, not even exchanging a word, and scarcely a glance, with their elbow neighbor, they work the long days through, from six o'clock until seven, year in and year out. On the Fourth of July they are given two or three hours in which they can dance, sing, and talk to each other, a privilege they improve to the greatest extent, and a general hand-shaking and meeting with old neighbors is the result. Sunday, at nine A.M., they are marched in close file to the chapel, where Rev. Howe, City Missionary, formerly a missionary in Brooklyn and New York, gives them an hour of good talk, telling them of Christ and Him Crucified, and of future reward and punishment, but no sectarian doctrines. He assures me some find the pearl of great price even within prison walls. They have an organ in the chapel and a choir composed of their best singers, and it is not often we hear better. Rev. Howe's daughter often accompanies her father and sings for them. They are readily brought to tears by the singing of Home, Sweet Home, and the dear old hymns. Through Mr. Howe's kind invitation we enjoyed his services with them, and as we rapped for admittance behind the bars, the attendant said: "Make haste, the boys are coming"; and the iron door was quickly locked after we entered. A prisoner brought us chairs, and we watched the long line of convicts marching in, the right hand on the shoulder of the one before them, and their striped cap in the left. They filed into the seats and every arm was folded. It made me sigh to see the boyish faces, but a shudder would creep over me when, here and there, I marked a number wearing the hoary locks of age. As I looked into their faces I could not but think of the many little children I have talked to in happy school days gone by, and my words came back to me: "Now, children, remember I will never forget you, and I will always be watching to see what good men and women you make; great philanthropists, teachers, and workers in the good work, good ministers, noble doctors, lawyers that will mete out true justice, honest laborers, and who knows but that a future Mr. or Mrs. President sits before me on a school bench? Never, never allow me to see your name in disgrace." And I hear a chorus of little voices answer: "I'll be good, Teacher, I'll be good." But before me were men who, in their innocent days of childhood, had as freely and well-meaningly promised to be good. But the one grand thought brightened the dark picture before me: God's great loving-kindness and tender mercy—a God not only to condemn but to forgive. Nine-tenths of the prisoners, I am told, are here through intemperance. Oh, ye liquor dealers that deal out ruin with your rum by the cask or sparkling goblet! Ye poor wretched drunkard, social drinker, or fashionable tippler! Why cannot you be men, such as your Creator intended you should be? I sometimes think God will punish the cause, while man calls the effect to account. For my part, I will reach out my hand to help raise the poorest drunkard from the ditch rather than to shake hands with the largest liquor dealer in the land, be he ever so good (?) Good! He knows what he deals out, and that mingled with his ill-gotten gains is the taint of ruined souls, souls for which he will have to answer for before the Great Judge who never granted a license to sin, nor decided our guilt by a jury.

Mrs. K. had secured a pass to take us to the insane asylum, but we felt we had seen enough of sadness, and returned home.

Friday. About two P.M. the sky was suddenly darkened with angry looking clouds, and I watched them with interest as they grew more threatening and the thunder spoke in louder tones. I was not anxious to witness a cyclone, but if one must come, I wanted to watch its coming, and see all I could of it. But the winds swept the clouds rapidly by, and in a couple of hours the streets were dry, and we drove out to see the only damage done, which was the partial wreck of a brick building that was being erected. Reports came in of a heavy fall of hail a few miles west that had the destroyed corn crop in some places. This was the hardest storm seen during my stay in the state. [ERRATA. Page 245, last line but one, in place of "Nebraska is visited" read "Nebraska is not visited." Third line from bottom leave out the word "not" from commencement of line.] Nebraska is not visited, as some suppose, with the terrible cyclones and wind storms that sweep over some parts of the West; nor have I experienced the constant wind that I was told of before I came; yet Nebraska has more windy weather than does Pennsylvania.

The sun comes down with power, and when the day is calm, is very oppressive; but the cool evenings revive and invigorate all nature.

Saturday we spent in seeing the city from center to suburb and drinking from the artesian well in the government square. The water has many medical properties, and is used as a general "cure-all."

Climbing the many steps to the belfry of the University, we had a fine view of the city, looking north, east, south, and west, far over housetops. Many are fine buildings of stone and brick, and many beautiful residences with well kept lawns. The streets are 100 and 120 feet wide. Sixteen feet on each side are appropriated for sidewalks, five of which, in all but the business streets, is the walk proper—built of stone, brick, or plank—and the remaining eleven feet are planted with shade trees, and are as nicely kept as the door yards.

The streets running north and south are numbered from first to twenty-fifth street. Those from east to west are lettered from A to W.

Saturday evening—a beautiful moonlight night—just such a night as makes one wish for a ride. Who can blame me if I take one? A friend has been telling how travelers among the Rockies have to climb the mountains on mountain mules or burros. My curiosity is aroused to know if when I reach the foot of Pike's Peak, I can ascend. It would be aggravating to go so far and not be able to reach the Peak just because I couldn't ride on a donkey. So Mrs. K. engaged Gussie Chapman, a neighbor's boy, to bring his burro over after dark. All saddled, Fanny waits at the door, and I must go.

Good bye, reader, I'll tell you all about my trip when I get back—I'll telegraph you at the nearest station. Don't be uneasy about me; I am told that burros never run off, and if Fanny should throw me I have only three feet to fall. I wonder what her great ears are for—but a happy thought strikes me, and I hang my poke hat on one and start.

when Fanny flops her ears, and lands my hat in the middle. Well, you cannot expect me to write poetry and go at this rate of speed. My thoughts and the muses can't keep pace with the donkey.

Most time to telegraph back to my friends who waved me away so grandly. But, dear me, I have been so lost in my reverie on the lovely night, and thoughts of how I could now climb Pike's Peak—if I ever reached the foot of the mountain,—that I did not notice that Fanny had crept round the mud puddle, and was back leaning against the gate-post. Another start, and Fanny's little master follows to whip her up; but she acts as though she wanted to slide me off over her ears, and I beg him to desist, and we will just creep. Poor little brute, you were created to creep along the dangerous mountain passes with your slow, cautious tread, and I won't try to force you into a trot.

Well, I went up street and down street, and then gave my seat to Hettie Keefer.

"What does it eat?" I asked.

"Oh, old shoes and rags, old tin cans, and just anything at all."

I wish I could tell you all about this queer little Mexican burro, but Hettie is back, and it is time to say good night.

In 1880, Kansas was so flooded with exodus negroes that Nebraska was asked to provide for a few, and over one hundred were sent to Lincoln. Near Mr. K.'s home, they have a little church painted a crushed strawberry color, and in the afternoon, our curiosity led us right in among these poor negroes so lately from the rice and cotton fields and cane brakes of the sunny South, to see and hear them in their worship. They call themselves Baptist, but, ignorant of their church belief, requested the Rev. Mr. Gee, then minister of the Lincoln Baptist church, to come and baptise their infants.

I went supplied with a large fan to hide a smiling countenance behind, but had no use for it in that way. Their utter ignorance, and yet so earnest in the very little they knew, drove all the smiles away, and I wore an expression of pity instead.

The paint is all on the outside of the house, and the altar, stand and seats are of rough make up. The whole audience turned the whites of their eyes upon us as we took a seat near the door. Soon a powerful son of Africa arose and said:

"Bruddering, I havn't long to maintain ye, but if ye'll pray for me for about the short space of fifteen minutes, I'll try to talk to ye. And Moses lifted up his rod in de wilderness, dat all dat looked upon dat rod might be healed. Now in dose days dey had what they called sarpents, but in dese days we call dem snakes, and if any one was bit by a snake and would look on dat rod he would be healed of de snake bite." How earnestly he talk to his "chilens" for de short space of time, until he suddenly broke off and said with a broad grin: "Now my time is up. Brudder, will you pray?" And while the brudder knelt in prayer the audience remained seated, hid their faces in their hands, and with their elbows resting on their knees, swayed their bodies to a continual humumum, and kept time with their feet; the louder the prayer, the louder grew the hum until the prayer could not be heard. One little Topsy sat just opposite us keeping time to the prayer by bobbing her bare heels up and down from a pair of old slippers much too large for her, showing the ragged edges of a heelless stocking, while she eyed "de white folks in de corner." After prayer came the singing, if such it may be called. The minister lined out a hymn from the only hymn book in the house, and as he ended the last word he began to sing in the same breath, and the rest followed. It did not matter whether it was long, short, or particular meter, they could drawl out one word long enough to make six if necessary, and skip any that was in the way. It was only a perfect mumble of loud voices that is beyond description, and must be heard to be appreciated. But the minister cut the singing short, by saying: "Excuse de balance," which we were glad to do. I was very much afraid he was getting "Love among the roses" mixed in with the hymn. While they sang, a number walked up to the little pine table and threw down their offering of pennies and nickels with as much pride and pomp as though they gave great sums, some making two trips. Two men stood at the table and reached out each time a piece of money was put down to draw it into the pile; but with all their caution they could not hinder one girl from taking up, no doubt, more than she put down, and not satisfied with that, again walked up and quickly snatched a piece of money without even pretending to throw some down. The minister closed with a benediction, and then announced that "Brudder Alexander would exhort to ye to-night and preach de gospel pint forward; and if de Lord am willin, I'll be here too."

A number gathered around and gave us the right hand of fellowship with an invitation to come again, which we gladly accepted, and evening found us again in the back seat with pencil and paper to take notes.

Brudder Alexander began with: "Peace be unto dis house while I try to speak a little space of time, while I talks of brudder Joshua. My text am de first chapter of Joshua, and de tenth verse. 'Then Joshua commanded the officers of the people, saying,' Now Joshua was a great wrastler and a war-man, and he made de walls of Jericho to fall by blowen on de horns. Oh, chilens! and fellow-mates, neber forget de book of Joshua. Look-yah! Simon Peta was de first bishop of Rome, but de Lord had on old worn-out clothes, and was sot upon an oxen, and eat moldy bread. And look-a-yah! don't I member de time, and don't I magine it will be terrible when de angel will come wid a big horn, and he'll give a big blah on de horn, and den look out; de fire will come, and de smoke will descend into heaven, and de earth will open up its mouth and not count the cost of houses. And look-a-yah! I hear dem say, de Rocky mountains will fall on ye. Oh, bruddering and fellow-mates, I clar I heard dem say, if ye be a child of God, hold out and prove faithful, and ye'll receive the crown, muzzle down. Now chilen, my time is expended."

And with this we left them to enjoy their prayer meeting alone, while we came home, ready to look on the most ridiculous picture that can be drawn by our famous artist in Blackville, and believe it to be a true representation. Poor children, no wonder the "true blue" fought four long years to set you free from a life of bondage that kept you in such utter ignorance.

Monday morning I felt all the time I had for Lincoln had been "expended," and I bade my kind friends of the capital good-bye.