“Crossing the Plains in 1865,” is the title under which a lady in the
_Rocky Mountain Husbandman_, is publishing a series of letters. The
story of every-day life on the plains is so prettily written, that
these papers repay perusal. We have been charmed by the native grace
of the author, and we send her our compliments whoever she may be. We
crossed the plains the same year, also, six years before, and we can
fully appreciate the experience of our unknown friend who writes so
charmingly.--_Stock, Farm and Home Weekly._
In this issue we close our narrative of pleasure, trials, etc., of a
trip across the great American plains in 1865. It has been a plain,
simple story and true to life and full of interest to Montana’s
oldtimers, and all who made the journey of the plains in wagons. To
the editor of this paper it has been a story of particular interest,
for he, a beardless boy then, crossed the plains, was a member of the
McMahan train, the sick man for whom Dr. Howard often went foraging for
bread.--_Rocky Mountain Husbandman._
“Crossing the Plains in 1865,” is the title of a story which was
written by a well-known lady of Virginia City, for the _Rocky Mountain
Husbandman_, and came to a conclusion in the last number of that paper.
It was a plain, unvarnished recital of the experiences of the journey
across the plains when ox-trains were the favorite conveyances, and
the voyagers were subjected to many vicissitudes unknown to travelers
of the present day. Though quite unpretentious as to literary merit,
it has been interesting in recalling to the minds of the pioneers, who
have read it, the eventful scenes of their own pilgrimage, and to them,
it has been pleasant reading.--_Madisonian._
“I have felt a deep interest in S. R. H.’s, ‘Crossing the Plains in
1865,’ all through these long series of letters, and many a familiar
spot has been brought back to me that had long been forgotten. And as
some of the actors in the play live in Challis, I will say to S. R. H.,
that Mrs. Hardinbrooke is still loved by a large circle of friends, and
that little Annie is now a blooming young lady, and ever worthy the
good-bye kiss; that the Captain has never disgraced the title bestowed
in 1865.
“I am, Mr. Editor, respectfully yours,
“O. E. PENWELL.”