May 1.
As I sit here in the shade of our prairie-schooner, with this blank
book ready to record the events of this our first day on the road, the
thought comes to me:
“Why are we here? Why have we left home, friends, relatives,
associates, and loved ones, who have made so large a part of our lives
and added so much to our happiness?”
“Echo answers ‘Why?’”
“The chief aim in life is the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness.”
Are we not taking great risks, in thus venturing into the wilderness?
When devoted men and women leave home, friends and the enjoyments of
life to go to some far heathen land, obeying the command: “Go, preach
my Gospel, to every creature,” we look on and applaud and desire to
emulate them. There is something so sublime, so noble in the act that
elevates the missionary above the common order of human beings that we
are not surprised that they make the sacrifice, and we silently wish
that we, too, had been called to do missionary work.
But when people who are comfortably and pleasantly situated pull up
stakes and leave all, or nearly all, that makes life worth the living,
start on a long, tedious, and perhaps dangerous journey, to seek a home
in a strange land among strangers, with no other motive than that of
bettering their circumstances, by gaining wealth, and heaping together
riches, that perish with the using, it does seem strange that so many
people do it.
The motive does not seem to justify the inconvenience, the anxiety,
the suspense that must be endured. Yet how would the great West be
peopled were it not so? God knows best. It is, without doubt, this
spirit of restlessness, and unsatisfied longing, or ambition--if you
please--which is implanted in our nature by an all-wise Creator that
has peopled the whole earth.
This has been a glorious May-day. The sky most beautifully blue, the
atmosphere delightfully pure, the birds twittering joyously, the earth
seems filled with joy and gladness. God has given us this auspicious
day to inspire our hearts with hope and joyful anticipation, this our
first day’s journey on the road across the plains and mountains.
It was hard to say good-bye to our loved and loving friends, knowing
that we were not at all likely to meet again in this life. I felt very
much like indulging in a good cry, but refrained, and Dick and I were
soon speeding over the beautiful prairie, overtaking Cash, who had
lingered behind the others, waiting for me.
“A penny for your thoughts, Cash?”
“I was wondering if we will ever tread Missouri soil again?”
“Quite likely we shall, we are young in years, with a long life before
us, no doubt we will come on a visit to Missouri when we get rich.”
We were passing a very comfortable looking farmhouse, men, women, and
children were in the yard, gazing after us, as we cantered past.
“Don’t you believe they envy us and wish they were going, too?”
“No, why should they?”
“Oh, because it is so jolly to be going across the continent; it is
like a picnic every day for months; I was always sorry picnic days were
so short, and now it will be an all Summer picnic.”
“I wish I felt that way; aren’t you sorry to leave your friends?”
“Of course I am, but then I shall write long letters to them, and they
will write to me, and I will make new friends wherever I go, and
somehow I am glad I am going.”
After we came within sight of our caravan we walked our ponies, and
talked of many things, past, present, and future. When within a mile
or two of Memphis our first camp was made. Our six wagons, with their
snow-white covers, and Mr. Kerfoot’s big tent, make a very respectable
looking camp.