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Tuesday, May 23.
Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher, Cash and I came with Gus and Ernest to the steamboat. We parted with them about nine o’clock on board the “Sioux City.” Dear friend, I have become greatly attached to her, in the three weeks we have been so intimately associated. May God grant her a quick and safe journey home. We cannot hope it will be a happy one.
Note.—Miss Milburn and her lover were married about six months after her return, and have lived happily, etc.
Cash and I came directly to camp, after saying good-bye to Gus; found every one busy getting ready for an early start to-morrow. We have been here almost a week, yet I have not had time to try the fine swing the boys put up the next day after we came here until this afternoon. The camps that were here over Sunday are all gone except those that will travel with us. It is probable there will be half a dozen more camps here before night. It is surprising to see what a great number of people are going west this Spring.
We hope to start very early to-morrow morning. I trust our party will not be so much like a funeral procession as it has been since the 15th. Vain regrets cannot remedy the past, and I believe it is our duty to be as cheerful and happy as possible in this life.
WE HAVE OUR PICTURES TAKEN.
Wednesday, May 24.
We were up with the earliest dawn, and our own individual outfit ready for a very early start, yet it was the middle of the forenoon before all the wagons were landed on the west bank of the Missouri. It takes a long while to ferry fifteen wagons across the river. We girls rode our ponies onto the ferryboat. They behaved as if they had been used to ferryboats all their lives. As we were waiting near the landing a stranger[A] came, apologized for speaking to us, and asked, “Are you going to Montana?”
[A] This man is mentioned here because of what happened to him before he reached his journey’s end.