Mrs. Curry, Sim, Hillhouse and I are going to town as soon as Mrs.
Curry is ready. We held a council whether we should get out our
street suits and last summer’s hats, or go in our emigrant outfits,
sun-bonnets and short dresses, thick shoes and all. Decided in favor
of the latter. No doubt the people of Virginia are used to seeing
emigrants in emigrant outfits, and we will not astonish them.
Evening.--We were not very favorably impressed with Virginia City.
It is the shabbiest town I ever saw, not a really good house in it.
Hillhouse and I, after hunting up and down the two most respectable
looking streets, found a log cabin with two rooms that we rented for
eight dollars per month. Mrs. Curry did not find a house at all. We
thought as so many were leaving there would be an abundance of vacant
houses, but there were enough living in tents to fill all the houses
that were vacated.
Mr. Curry’s folks and Mr. Kennedy’s will go to Helena. Mr. Bower has
a ranch on the Madison Valley. Mr. Grier will stay here for a time,
anyway.
The cabin is on the corner of Wallace and Hamilton Streets, next door
to the city butcher. The cabin has a dirt roof. There is a floor in it,
and that is better than some have. It is neat and clean, which is a
comfort. Men have not bached in it.
We found quite a budget of letters at the post-office, the most
important of which are from brother Mac and Frank Kerfoot. Mac’s
letter:
CINCINNATI, August 10, 1865.
_Dear Mother, Sister and Brothers_:
It is with fear and trembling that I pen this letter. I have not
heard from you for more than a month, telling me you had decided
to go to Montana. The papers are full of accounts of Indian
depredations. I have realized to the fullest extent that “Hope
deferred maketh the heart sick.” In your last letter you had
decided to go to Virginia City, so I will direct this letter to
be held until called for. I am glad you are not going any farther
West. I cannot conceive why you wanted to go to that far off wild
Western country. I do wish you had stopped at Omaha, or St. Jo, or
even Denver. It would have been better than Montana. With sincerest
love to all,
Your son and brother,
MAC.
But oh, the sad, sad news comes in Frank’s letter. Neelie is dead. Oh,
the anguish of soul, the desolateness of heart that one sentence gives
expression to. Frank’s letter:
GREEN RIVER, Wyoming Ter., Aug. 18.
_Dear Miss Sallie_--I write to tell you of our very great sorrow.
Precious Neelie is gone. We are all sorely bereaved, but how Uncle
Ezra’s family can ever get along without her, I cannot see. Any
member of the family, except uncle, could be spared better than
Neelie. She got very much better, and the doctor said if uncle
would stay there another week, he was sure Neelie would be well
enough to travel without danger of a relapse, but if she had
another relapse she could not be saved.
The Hardinbrooke train left Monday morning. Mrs. Hardinbrooke was
much better. The Gatewoods and Ryans stayed with us. Neelie was
much better. She sat up in bed some. That night Uncle Ezra did
not sleep at all, he was so afraid of Indians. The next morning,
as Neelie had a good night’s rest, and was feeling stronger,
nothing else would do but we must move on to Green River, where the
soldiers are. We started about nine o’clock, and drove twenty-five
miles without stopping. It was very hot and dusty. Uncle drove the
family wagon and watched Neelie carefully. After a time she seemed
to be sleeping quietly, so he thought she was all right. But it was
the sleep from which there is no waking in this life.
Dr. Howard and Dr. Fletcher were both at Green River, and they both
worked all night trying to arouse her, but without success. At
early dawn Neelie’s sweet spirit took its flight, and we are left
desolate.
Miss Sallie, do you remember Carpenter? the young man that made
Uncle Ezra so mad by pretending to go into hysterics when the Ryan
girls were leaving the train? When he heard that Neelie was gone,
he went out on the mountain and found a large, smooth, flat stone,
white as marble, but not so hard, and engraved Neelie’s name, age,
and date of her death on it, to mark her resting place. He worked
all day upon it, and at the funeral he placed it at the head of her
grave, and if you ever go over this road it will not be hard to
find Neelie’s grave. We gathered wild flowers and literally covered
her grave with them.
Darling Neelie, our loss is her gain, for we all know that she was
an earnest, devoted Christian. We will start on our now sorrowful
journey to-morrow. I wish you were here to go with us, but hope you
will be successful where you are, and happy too.
Mrs. Hardinbrooke was much worse after they came here. That
hot, dusty drive was hard on well people; for sick people it
was terrible. When Neelie died she was very low, but she has
rallied, and the rest of the train will move on to-morrow. But Mr.
Hardinbrooke will stay here with his wife until she is entirely
restored, and they will go to Virginia City on the coach. All send
love to you all. Aunt Mildred asked me to write you.
Very sincerely your friend,