Life and writings of Amelia Bloomer

by D. C. Bloomer

It will be noted that the above was written in 1855; and with what remarkable correctness Mrs. Bloomer prophesied as to the future of the country in which she had just taken up her residence must strike every one, except that it was nearly ten years instead of three before the railroad reached Council Bluffs.

She then goes on to advise people to come West and acquire land (then to be had at government price) and thus secure homes for themselves, and then continues:

“My residence is on a gentle elevation at the foot of one of the highest bluffs in the city, with a western front commanding a fine view of the grass-carpeted bottoms upon which hundreds of cattle are grazing, of Omaha across the river, and of the plains of Nebraska beyond which stretch away in the distance as far as the eye can reach. I love to ascend the bluffs in the rear of our house, and watch the setting sun as it descends below the horizon far off towards the blue and peaceful waters of the Pacific; and as I do so, I contemplate the day when the wild valley before me will be filled with the hum and stir and thronging multitude of a great city, and these bluffs covered with elegant residences and tasteful retreats from the turmoil and activity that will reign below,—for no one here doubts that such is to be the future of Council Bluffs.”

DESCRIBES HER NEW HOME.

Here is also another letter written by Mrs. Bloomer in May, 1855, giving a further description of her home in the west and of its surroundings:

“Council Bluffs, May, 1855.

“My dear Mrs. Vaughan:

“From my far-distant home among the bluffs of the Missouri I send you greeting. We have now been here four weeks, and for two weeks I have been installed as housekeeper in my own house. The business of housekeeping, as you well know, is not new to me; but it is a long time since I have confined myself to that business alone, and it seems a little strange after the many and various duties devolving upon me for the last six or seven years to be relieved of the greater part of them and to settle down in this strange place with nothing to care for save my house and garden.

“Far from the place of my nativity, far from the spot where since childhood all the years of my life have been spent, save one, far from dearly loved kindred and highly cherished friends, far from all the noble spirits with whom I have long labored in the cause of humanity, far from all I have ever best known and loved save him who is my companion in life’s journey, I have commenced life as it were anew. Here, surrounded by lovely flower-decked prairies and nestled down among the hills that overlook the Missouri and the vast plains of Nebraska beyond, we have chosen our future home and shall do what we may by our aid and influence for the upbuilding and prosperity of this infant city.

“Do not imagine us in a wild and uncultivated country, deprived of the comforts of life, and of the enjoyments and advantages of refined society, for it is not so. Neither are we surrounded by hordes of savage Indians and in danger of falling victims to the tomahawk and scalping-knife, as some people in the east imagine. * * * We do not consider ourselves as far out of the world as we are set down by those who realize nothing of the immense emigration into the mighty West, or of the energy and ‘goaheadativeness’ of the people who come hither. We see some Indians occasionally, it is true, but they are only visitors from Nebraska, they do not belong to this state. A party of Pawnees some two weeks ago pitched their tent on the summit of a high bluff near our house where they remained until last Sunday, when they struck their tent, packed it and all other movables on the back of a mule and then took up their line of march to the westward, the men riding on horseback while the ‘squaws’ went on foot. The mule was led by a squaw. Two squaws had papooses on their backs, and another carried a dog in the same manner. I had frequent visits from some of them while they remained here, and on leaving they called to bid us good-bye, in tolerably fair English. There is something interesting to me in these children of nature and I almost regretted their departure.