More than once did I reproach myself with having been so eager to leave
Pike County, and many times I said to myself that a girl who has a
happy home is indeed foolish to wish for a change, lest, like Ellen and
me, they find, as mother often says, that they have jumped out of the
frying pan into the fire.
One day was much like another. Now the trail would be hard underfoot
and the traveling easy, and again we would cross a stream, the bottom
lands of which were so marshy that the oxen lugged and strained at
their yokes, until oftentimes it was necessary to double up the teams
in order that the heavy wagons could be pulled over the soft footing.
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The only thing I remember which came to break the monotony of the slow
march was when, on a certain evening, father returned with his pockets
and hands full of wild onions which he had found on the prairie.
Because our meals had consisted chiefly of corn bread and salted meat,
I said to myself that now we would have a feast.
But alas! those wild onions were like my dreams about traveling to the
land of California. While they looked fair on the outside before being
cooked, they were so strong to the taste that one nearly choked in
trying to eat them.