FORT KEARNEY.
Saturday, June 10.
I was disappointed in Fort Kearney, as I so often am in things I have formed an idea about. There are very comfortable quarters for the soldiers; they have set out trees, and made it quite a pretty place, away out here in the wilderness, but there is no stockade, or place of defense, with mounted cannon, as I had expected.
Sim and I rode horseback through the fort while the wagons kept the road half a mile north of the fort. Only a few of us came by the way of the fort. A soldier gave us a drink of water from a well by the wayside. He seemed a perfect gentleman, but had such a sad expression. We were told that these soldiers were in the Confederate service, were taken prisoners, confined at Rock Island, and enlisted in the Government service to come out here and fight Indians. They are from Georgia and Alabama.
Two families have joined our train and come into corral on the opposite side, just behind the Walkers: Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy—a newly-married couple—and Mr. and Mrs. Bower, with a daughter fourteen and a son five. We only came one and a half miles west of the fort near Kearney City. I do not understand why we have made such a short drive, for the boys say the feed is not good, it has been eaten off so close.
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Sunday, June 11.
We were obliged to leave camp and travel to-day, the first Sunday we have hitched up since we started. It was a case of necessity, as there was not feed for our large herds of cattle and horses. We made only a short drive, just to get good feed for the stock.
We are camping near a station that must seem like a military post, there are so many soldiers. Several soldiers came to our camp this afternoon; they confirmed what we heard yesterday. They are Confederate soldiers, they were prisoners, and their homes are in far-away Georgia and Alabama, and they are desperately homesick. It is a distressing sickness. I have been so homesick that I could not eat or sleep, and a cure was not effected until I was at home again. Then how nice it did seem to be home, and how good everything tasted. I do hope this cruel, homicidal war will soon be over, and these fine-looking Southern gentlemen will be permitted to go to their homes and loved ones, who, no doubt, are waiting and longing for their return. My heart aches for them.