Speak to us softly, gently, and low,
Are they well and happy? Flowers, do you know?
Excuse this simple rhyme, but I am so homesick.
This country is good all the way along and I do not need to repeat it so often. Nicely improved farms and homes surrounded by fine groves of trees. I see one man at work with his harvester; the only desecrator of the Sabbath I have noticed, and he may be a Seventh day Baptist.
AYR
Was but a small town, so we go on to Hastings, a town of over 5,000 inhabitants, and the county seat of Adams county. Is ninety-six miles west from Lincoln, and 150 miles west of the Missouri river. The B. & M.R.R. was built through Hastings in the spring of 1872, but it was not a station until the St. Joe and Denver City R.R. (now the St. Joe & Western Division of the U.P.R.R.) was extended to this point in the following autumn, and a town was platted on the homestead of W. Micklin, and named in honor of T. D. Hastings, one of the contractors of the St. Jo. & D.C.R.R. A post-office was established the same year, the postmaster receiving a salary of one dollar per month. Now, the salary is $2,100 per annum, and is the third post-office in the state for business done. It is located on a level prairie, and is nicely built up with good houses, although it has suffered badly from fires. I notice a good many windmills, so I presume water runs deep here. The surrounding country is rich farming land, all crops looking good.
Harvard, Sutton, Grafton, Fairmont, Exeter, Friend, and Dorchester, are all towns worthy of note, but it is the same old story about them all. I notice the churches are well attended.
A poor insane boy came upon the train, and showed signs of fight and, as usual, I beat a retreat to the rear of the car, but did not better my position by getting near a poor, inebriated young man, in a drunken stupor. I count him sixth, but am told he came from Denver in that condition, so I will give Colorado the honor (?) of the sixth count. I cannot but compare the two young men: The one, I am told, was a good young man, but was suddenly robbed of his reason. If it was he that was intoxicated, I would not wonder at it. I never could understand how any one in their right mind could deliberately drag themselves down to such a depth, and present such a picture of sin and shame to the world as this poor besotted one does. Everyone looks on him with contempt, as he passes up the aisle for a drink; but expressions of pity come from all for the one bereft of reason, and I ask, Which of the two is the most insane? But I don't intend to preach a temperance sermon if it is Sunday.
CRETE.
Quite a pretty town half hid among the trees that line the Big Blue river. The valley of the Blue must be very fertile, as every plant, shrub, and tree shows a very luxuriant growth. Crete is surely a cosy retreat. The Congregational church of the state has made it a centre of its work. Here are located Doane College and the permanent grounds of the N.S.S.A.A.