To and Through Nebraska

by Frances I. Sims Fulton

"Well, watch, or your horse will tramp in a gopher hole and throw you; can you stand another trot?"

And I would switch my trotter, but would soon have to rein him up, and laugh at my attempt at riding.

It was not long until we were within sight of the house where Zeke's sister lived, and when within hearing distance we ordered—"Breakfast for two!" When near the house we concentrated all our equestrian skill into a "grand gallop."

Mrs. B. and Lydia were watching and wondering who was coming; but my laugh betrayed me, and when we drew reins on our noble ponies at the door, I was received with: "I just knew that was Pet Fulton by the laugh;" and as I slipped down, right into their arms, I thought after all the ride was well worth the taking, and the morning a grand one. Rising before the sun, I watched its coming, and the mirage on the river, showing distinctly the river, islands, and towns; but all faded away as the mirage died out, and then the ride over the green prairie, bright with flowers, and at eight o'clock breakfasting with old friends.

We swung around the circle of Indiana county friends, the Butterbaughs and Fairbanks, until Monday. Must say I enjoyed the swing very much. Took a long ramble over the bluffs that range east and west, a half mile south of Mr. J. B.'s home. Climbed bluff after bluff, only to come to a jumping off place of from 50 to 100 feet straight down. To peer over these places required a good deal of nerve, but I held tight to the grass or a soap weed stalk, and looked. We climbed to the top of one of the highest, from which we could see across the valley to the Platte river three miles away—the river a mile in width, and the wide valley beyond, to the bluffs that range along its northern bounds. The U.P.R.R. runs on the north side of the river, and Mr. B. says the trains can be seen for forty miles. Plum Creek, twenty miles to the east, is in plain view, the buildings quite distinguishable. Then comes Cozad, Willow Island—almost opposite, and Gothenburg, where the first house was built last February, and now has about twenty. I would add the following from a letter received Dec. 21, '83:

Gothenburg has now 40 good buildings, and in the county where but five families lived in the spring of '82, now are 300, and that number is to be more than doubled by spring.

But to the bluffs again. To the south, east, and west, it is wave after wave of bluffs covered with buffalo grass; not a tree or bush in sight until we get down into the canyons, which wind around among the hills and bluffs like a grassy stream, without a drop of water, stone or pebble; now it is only a brook in width, now a creek, and almost a river. The pockets that line the canyons are like great chambers, and are of every size, shape and height. A clay like soil they call calcine, in strata from white to reddish brown, forms their walls. They seemed like excellent homes for wild cats, and as we were only armed with a sunflower stalk which we used for a staff (how æsthetic we have grown since coming west!) we did not care to prospect—would much rather look at the deer tracks.

The timber in the canyons are ash, elm, hackberry, box elder, and cottonwood, but Mr. B. has to go fifteen miles for wood as it is all taken near him. Wild plums, choke cherries, currants, mountain cranberries, and snow berries grow in wild profusion, and are overrun with grape-vines.

Found a very pretty pincushion cactus in bloom, and I thought to bring it home to transplant; but cactus are not "fine" for bouquets nor fragrant; and if they were, who would risk a smell at a cactus flower? But I did think I would like a prairie dog for a pet, and a full grown doggie was caught and boxed for me. Had a great mind to attempt bringing a jack rabbit also, and open up a Nebraska menagerie when I returned. Jack rabbits are larger than the common rabbits and very deceitful, and if shot at will pretend they are hurt, even if not touched. A hunter from the east shot at one, and seeing it hop off so lame, threw down his gun and ran to catch it—well, he didn't catch the rabbit, and spent two days in searching before he found his gun.

Sunday. We attended Sabbath school in the sod school house, and Monday morning early were off on the long ride back to Plum creek with Mr. and Mrs. H. Fairbanks and Miss Laura F. We picnicked at dinner time. Under a shade tree? No, indeed; not a tree to be seen—only a few willows on the islands in the river, showing that where it is protected from fires, timber will grow. But in a few years this valley will be a garden of cultivated timber and fields. I must speak of the brightest flower that is blooming on it now; 'tis the buffalo pea, with blossoms same as our flowering pea, in shape, color, and fragrance, but it is not a climber. How could it be, unless it twined round a grass stalk?