"Thank you," I replied, "you could not have wished me any thing better." Nothing can be more pleasant to me than to thus snatch acquaintances here and there, and though 'tis but a very short time we meet, yet I reap many good impressions, and many pleasing memories are stored away for future reference, in quiet hours.
Left Fremont Wednesday noon, July 19, with aching temples; but the thought that I was really going home at last, soon relieved my indisposition, and I was ready to write as I went; eastward bound, over level country of good pasture and hay lands. Land, that, when we passed over the 26th April was void of a green spear; trees that then swayed their budding branches in the winds, now toss their leafy boughs. Said good-bye to the winding Elkhorn river, a little way east of Fremont.
Wild roses and morning glories brighten the way. Why! here we are at Blair; but I have told of Blair before, so will go on to the Missouri river. And as we cross over I stand on the platform of the rear car where I can see the spray, and as I look down into the dark water and watch the furrow the boat leaves in the waves, I wonder where are all those that crossed over with me to the land I have just left. Some have returned, but the majority have scattered over the plains of Northwestern Nebraska. I was aroused from my sad reverie by an aged gentleman who stood in the door, asking: "Why, is this the way we cross the river? My! how strong the water must be to bear us up! Oh, dear! Be careful, Sis, or you might fall off when the boat jars against the shore."
"I am holding tight," I replied, "and if I do I will fall right in the boat or skiff swung at the stern." I did not then know that to fall into the Missouri river is almost sure death, as the sand that is mixed with the water soon fills the clothing, and carries one to bottom—but we landed without a jar or jolt and leave the muddy waves for the sandy shores of Iowa.
Reader, I wish I could tell you all about my home going—of my visit at Marshalltown, Iowa, with the Pontious family—dear old friends of my grand-parents; at Oswego, Ill., with an uncle; at Tiffin and Mansfield, Ohio, with more friends, and all I heard and saw along the way. Allow me to skip along and only sketch the way here and there.
July 30, 5:30 P.M. "Will you tell me, please, when we cross the Pennsylvania state line?" I asked of the conductor. "Why, we crossed the line ten miles back." And I just put my hand out of the window and shake hands with the dear old state and throw a kiss to the hills and valleys, and that rocky bank covered with flowering vines. I thought there was an air of home in the breezes.
The sun was going down, and shadows growing long when we stopped at Meadville, and while others took supper I walked to the rear of the depot to the spot where our party had snow-balled only three months ago. The snow has melted, the merry party widely separated, and alone I gather leaves that then were only buds, and think. Ah! their bright expectations were all in the bud then. Have they unfolded into leaves as bright as these I gather?
Well, I am glad to pat the soil of my native state, and call it dear old "Pa." But could my parents go with me I feel I would like to return again to Nebraska, for though I could never love it as I always shall the "Keystone," yet I have already learned to very highly respect and esteem Nebraska for its worth as a state, and for the kind, intelligent people it holds within its arms.
As I take my seat in the car, a young, well-dressed boy sits near me in a quiet state of intoxication. Well, I am really ashamed! To think I have seen two drunken men to-day and only seven during my three months' stay in Nebraska. So much good for the high license law. If you cannot have prohibition, have the next best thing, and drowned out all the little groggeries and make those who will have it, pay the highest price. Poor boy! You had better go to Nebraska and take a homestead.
"Old Sol" has just hid his face behind the dear old hills and it is too dark to see, so I sing to myself. My "fellow mates" hear the hum and wonder what makes me so happy. They don't know I am going home, do they?