But, there, we have gone five miles now, and we are at Franklin, a real good solid town. First house built July, 1879. I never can guess how many people live in a town by looking at it from a car window. How do I know how many there are at work in the creamery, flouring mill, and woolen factory? And how many pupils are studying in the Franklin Academy, a fine two-story building erected by the Republican Valley Congregational Association at a cost of $3,500? First term opened Dec. 6, 1881. The present worth of the institution is $12,000, and they propose to make that sum $50,000. One hundred and seven students have been enrolled during the present term. And how many little boys and girls in the common school building? or how many are in their nicely painted homes, and those log houses, and sod houses, and dug-outs in the side of the hill, with the stovepipe sticking out of the ground? It takes all kinds of people to make a world, and all kinds of houses to make a city. Country good. Fields of corn, wheat, rye, oats, millet, broom corn, and all sich—good all the way along this valley.
RIVERTON.
A small town situated right in the valley. Was almost entirely laid in ashes in 1882, but Phoenix-like is rising again. Am told the B. & M. Co. have 47,000 acres of land for sale in this neighborhood at $3.50 to $10 per acre, on ten years' time and six per cent interest. Great fields of pasture and grain; wild hay lands; alongside the river now; there, it is gone to run under that bridge away over near the foot of the grassy wall of the bluffs. Why, would you believe it! here's the Republican river. Haven't seen it for a couple of minutes. But it brings trees and bushes with it, and an island. But now around the bluffs and away it goes. Reader, I have told you the "here she comes" and "there she goes" of the river to show you its winding course. One minute it would be hugging the bluffs on the north side, and then, as though ashamed of the "hug," and thought it "hadn't ought to," takes a direct south-western course for the south bluffs, and hug them awhile. Oh, the naughty river! But, there, the old lady is tired and has stopped talking, and I will follow her example. Tired? Yes, indeed! Have been writing almost constantly since I left McCook, now 119 miles away, and am right glad to hear the conductor call
RED CLOUD!
Hearing that ex-Gov. Garber was one of the early settlers of Red Cloud, I made haste to call upon him before it grew dark, for the sunbeams were already aslant when we arrived, and supper was to be eaten. As I stepped out upon the porch of the "Valley House" there sat a toad; first western toad I had seen, and it looked so like the toadies that hop over our porch at home that I couldn't help but pat it with my foot. But it hopped away from me and left me to think of home. The new moon of May had hung its golden crest over me in the valley of the Niobrara, the June moon in the valley of the Platte, and now, looking up from the Republican valley, the new July moon smiled upon me in a rather reproving way for being yet further from home than when it last came, and, too, after all my wishing. So I turned my earnest wishes into a silent prayer:
"Dear Father, take me home before the moon has again run its course!"
I found the ex-governor seated on the piazza of his cosy cottage, enjoying the beautiful evening. He received me kindly, and invited me into the parlor, where I was introduced to Mrs. Garber, a very pleasant lady, and soon I was listening to the following story:
"I was one of the first men in Webster county; came with two brothers, and several others, and took for my soldier's claim the land upon which much of Red Cloud is now built, 17th July, 1870. There were no other settlers nearer than Guide Rock, and but two there. In August several settlers came with their families, and this neighborhood was frequently visited by the Indians, who were then killing the white hunters for taking their game, and a couple had been killed near here. The people stockaded this knoll, upon which my house is built, with a wall of logs, and a trench. In this fort, 64 feet square, they lived the first winter, but I stayed in my dugout home, which you may have noticed in the side of the hill where you crossed the little bridge. I chose this spot then for my future home. I have been in many different states, but was never so well satisfied with any place as I was with this spot on the Republican river. The prairie was covered with buffalo grass, and as buffalo were very plenty, we did not want for meat. There were also plenty of elk, antelope, and deer.
"In April, '71, Webster county was organized. The commissioners met in my dug-out. At the first election there were but forty-five votes polled. First winter there were religious services held, and in the summer of '71, we had school. Our mail was carried from Hebron, Thayer county, fifty miles east. The town site was platted in October, '72, and we named it for Red Cloud, chief of the Indian tribe."
The governor looked quite in place in his elegant home, but as he told of the early days, it was hard to fancy him occupying a dug-out, and I could not help asking him how he got about in his little home, for he is a large man. He laughingly told how he had lived, his dried buffalo meat hung to the ceiling, and added: