Mrs. Winslow asked me if I knew anything of the grave. I did not, but promised to make inquiries regarding it on my return home.
Mrs. Charles B. Letton Eighth State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the American Revolution. 1907-1908
Soon after reaching home, Judge and Mrs. Letton came down from Lincoln and as guests of Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Hansen we were all dining together. The conversation turned to the trip Mrs. Letton and I had enjoyed together, and we told the story of the talk with Mrs. Winslow. To my great surprise and pleasure Judge Letton said, "Why, Mrs. Steele, I remember seeing, many years ago, close by the Oregon trail, somewhere near the head of Whiskey Run, a grave marked with a red sandstone, and it is probably the grave you are searching for. I believe Mr. Hansen can find it."
A few days after this Mr. Hansen reported the finding of the grave. He said the headstone had been knocked down by a mower and dragged several rods away, and that he had replaced it upon the grave; that the inscription on the stone was as distinct as though freshly cut. I at once wrote to Mrs. Winslow, giving her the facts, and telling her Mr. Hansen would gladly answer any questions and give such further information as she might wish.
The grateful letter I received in reply more than compensated me for what I had done.
Statement by Mr. Hansen
Upon a beautiful swell of the prairie between the forks of Whiskey Run, overlooking the charming valley of the Little Blue river, in a quiet meadow, five miles north and one mile west of Fairbury, close to the "old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants," is a lone grave marked with a red sandstone slab, twenty inches in height, of equal width, and six inches thick, on which is carved "Geo. Winslow, Newton, Ms. AE. 25."
Through this meadow untouched by the plow may still be seen the deep, grass-grown furrows of the Oregon trail; and when George Winslow's companions laid him at rest by its side, they buried him in historic ground, upon earth's greatest highway.
To the honor of George Winslow's comrades be it said they loved him so well that in their grief the feverish haste to reach the gold fields was forgotten, and every member did what he could to give him Christian burial and perpetuate his memory. They dug his grave very deep so that neither vandals nor wolves would disturb him. They searched the surrounding country and found, two miles away, a durable quality of sandstone, which they fashioned with their rude tools for his monument, his uncle Jesse Winslow carving with great care his name, home, and age, and on a footstone the figures 1849. This service of love rendered him that day gave to his sons their father's grave, and enabled us sixty-three years afterwards to obtain the story of his life, and the story of the journey of his company to California.