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 gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door,
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me some more."
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--
"Oh give me back my native hills,
Rough, rugged though they be,
No other land, no other clime
Is half so dear to me."
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."